The end of another season

I sit here sighing as I realize how quickly another season is ending. No longer are there Saturday afternoon baseball games or casual walks after dinner. It will soon be to cold to go to the river to walk along its banks. There will be no more picnics with the family or day trips to the beach. Summer has ended and Fall barely lasted long enough for us to enjoy.

Even though Fall is beautiful with its vibrant colors, cool mornings and warm afternoon there seems to be such a sadness that descends upon nature as the trees lose their leaves. Everything is laid barren and brown as it waits for Winter to cover the ground with its blanket of snow. The cold Winter months will force us inside. And then the gloom will settle in like a thick fog.

Have you noticed that too many times we go through Winter like it is a time of darkness to our souls. With nothing to do but wait out the long cold harsh months for life to once again spring forth.

This year I chose for it not to affect me this way. What a wonderful time this will be. I plan on reading more since I never seem to have time for that in the summer. And my garden is going to be planned way in advance this year.

What I think I look forward to the most is that this will be a time of reflection. There is something about looking back before I look forward that has always appealed to me. It helps to keep things in perspective. It will be a time of taking personal inventory and a time of soul searching. Am I living my life to the fullest, am I doing all that I can do to achieve my goals? Am I becoming the person I am called to be?

I am not going to allow this season of wintry weather to be one of unfruitfulness. I plan on this being a time of abundance and profitability. I will grow and once again I will look forward to the next season of my life and of nature.

It will be a blessed time!

What a Wonder

Did you ever wonder how much God loves you?
Think about it, He gives you the sunrise every morning to start your day.

Remembering

Being at Redman this past week brought back some sweet memories for me. Though I had never been to this part of Central Oregon, it reminded me of another time in my life. It was that certain smell in the air that took me back to my grandmother's place. My mind flooded with memories of my youth. Like playing on the dike that held back the Onkanogan River. The crispness of the air in the morning and the sounds of the gravel underneith my feet, reminded me of so many summers spent in Omak. Where all you ever had to worry about was what adventure you had that day. Days spent exploring every part of the area. I miss those times of freedom, where the restraints of jobs and responsibilities were a life time away.

Her name is Kenna

I love seeing a summer morning from my tiny back patio. I love the warmth of the sun, the freshness in the air, sitting there with my first cup of coffee, what could be better. I have a routine on such mornings. I hit the on button to the coffee maker, grab my Bible, pen and paper and head out back to my little garden plot. As the morning pot is brewing I like to make the most of my time so I water my flowers and the few veggies I have. The Impatients and Daisies are doing well, the tomatoes, not so good.

It was on such a morning as this when I first saw her, the homeless woman living behind the church.

I glance over the fence, which separates the two properties she was sitting in the small lean-to where the church stores their garbage cans. I say to myself, “there is a person sleeping over there”. That was as far as my concern went a simple acknowledgement of a fact. Back to my watering I go, oblivious to the plight of this person who had spent the night outdoors.

Now I like to think I live my life being obedient when the Lord prompts me to do something. I was proven wrong this particular morning when He decided to confront me. As I said I was oblivious, in my own little world when I heard Him say, “What are you going to do about it” It took me by surprise, I snapped back “What, Lord the homeless person?” and again he said “What are you going to do about it?”

“What am I suppose to do about it?” I whined. (no compassion lost here) “You have peanut butter don’t you?” “Great” I thought, I can see where this conversation is headed. “Yes, I have peanut butter” He didn’t have to answer me, I knew exactly what He wanted me to do. But in my deeply spiritual mature way I responded just like a kid not wanted to do their chores. “But God!” I whined once again. “this is my time with you, this is my quiet time, to enjoy my coffee and this wonderful summer morning!”

He ever so gently said “You will be spending time with me.”

So I hurried indoors I knew I had to now hurry if to get this lunch together if I was going to make it over to where this person was and then to work on time.
Still not having a great attitude I headed out the door prepared with two peanut butter sandwiches an orange and a bottle of water neatly tucked into a nice little paper sack. As I hesitantly walked towards this meager structure once again I whined to the Lord, “What on earth am I suppose to say to her?” What I heard made my selfish behavior crash down around me.

“Tell her I know she is there”

My self pity and my constant whining was overtaken by His compassion. I was deeply humbled and ashamed by my attitude.

“Good Morning” I said as I walked around the corner “I noticed you sitting over here, thought you might be hungry.” I wasn’t expecting the reaction I received from her. Turning away from me not wanting to look me in the eyes she burst into tears. She told me she had just been sitting there wondering what she was going to eat that day. My heart broke. I sat down next to her on the piece of cardboard she used as a bed. I began to share with her what the Lord had impressed upon me. That He knows she is there and He cares for her, she has not been forgotten.

Kenna is her name.

As we sat and talked, I couldn’t help but notice how the effects of living out in the elements has on a person. Her hands were extremely dirty, like a farmer who has worked the soil all day. Her hair was slicked back, I wondered when the last time it was that she took a hot shower. What upset me most was seeing the two threadbare blankets she used to keep warm. So much of this woman’s life seemed thread bare, on the verge of unraveling. Our conversation had to end short because I needed to go to work.


I left her there, in that place. It broke my heart but stirred my thoughts on what I could do to help. God was not done with her yet nor was he done with me.

to be continued;

A lost sense of security

I grew up in a safe idyllic place. I lived in Eastern Washington in a town called Walla Walla. The area was famous for its sweet onions. Walla Walla Sweets are still my favorites. It was a good and secure place to raise a family.

We lived about 5 miles out of town. Our house sat in the middle of a wheat field with the most wonderful view of the Blue Mountains. Back then you didn't have to worry about whether or not you lock your doors. In fact my family would go on vacations for two weeks at a time and we never did locked the doors. There was a sense of security. The fears and concerns you have living in a larger city were not part of the mind set in the town where I grew up. But then it was a different time and a different place.

I use to have that sense of security here where I'm living now. I am not foolish by any means, I lock my doors. After all I live in an area which is seeing an increase of illegal activity. My one slip in not being diligent at home was not always shutting my windows. My youngest and soon to be first time mom, gets after me constantly to close the windows when I leave. I didn’t think I had to. My apartment is in the back and in the corner, who knew I was there? I guess I still carried that sense of security with me I had since my youth

Right behind my place is a huge yard with fruit trees and berry bushes. It is bordered by two high fences, no one walks through that yard. To the south of me is church property,I am at the back corner of that property once again no foot traffic. Where those two properties meet is a small apartment complex. I see only the back part of this unit, their bedroom windows face me. How many people look out their bedroom windows in an apartment?

That is what made my apartment so nice, no one knew I was back here. I could sit on my patio in the morning and not worry about people walking by. That was until the break-in.

My roommate and I attend the same prayer meeting on Tuesday night. She always makes it home before me. This night we pulled into the parking lot together. First let me say; I have lived in this small thirteen unit place for about 8 yrs. I know my neighbors and I recognize their friends.So when I saw the man walk out from around the bushes carrying something I thought looked red I immediately had a warning flag go up in my spirit.

I parked the car and walked towards my apartment, as I tried to put my key into the door it fell open. Hmmm some concern here. Now at this point my mind is racing, trying to think was I the last one to leave? Did I not lock the door? As
I stepped inside and looked towards the sliding class door my stomach dropped, it too was open.

I quickly stepped back out of the apartment turned and told my roommate “something is wrong both doors are opened.” This was a too bizarre,a flood of emotions raced through my body, should I be afraid? Is this really happening? What the heck I am suppose to do now? Luckily the neighbor man was upstairs, I called and asked him to come down and walk through the apartment with us. After explaining why he was down in a flash and one by one we slowly entered.

It didn’t take long to realize what had happened. There were items on my bedroom floor that once was in the dresser. “oh man I can’t believe this has happened to me” I didn’t know whether to cry or be angry or both. As we continued through the apartment it became apparent the perpetrator came through the kitchen window.
The same window I had left open just a crack that morning because I had been cooking bacon. Besides I didn’t worry I had that sense of security.

The police came and then another guy who took fingerprints. They made their report, gave us a case number, tried to reassure us and then left. Had I only know this was going to happen I would have cleaned better.

We were lucky, not much was taken. The guy didn’t find my roommates wedding jewelry. He did get my camera, which hurt. I love to take pictures and I would carry this camera most places I went. He got some money and a pad of checks and a red canvas bag of mine. Hmmm that guy who I saw was carrying something red.

So the locks have been changed, the window is fixed and I now place a stick of wood in it. I have called my insurance man, talked with a claim adjuster, that was a laugh, there is not enough of a loss to cover the $500 deductible. I also went to the bank to put a block on the checks he stole. It has been over a week since it happened and I still have not gotten a hold of the credit bureaus. It has all been a gigantic pain but life goes on.

It is not the few items this person took that infuriates me, he took from me my
sense of security that I have had all these years. But you know what, my anger will pass, I will eventually stop looking at the men on the street to see which one was the guy I saw that night carrying the red bag. I will also stop jumping at the little sounds I hear in my apartment. This could have been such a tragedy. If my roommate and I would have come home just five minutes early, we might have walked in on him. We truly are blessed because no one was hurt and he didn’t get away with much.

Besides I now have a new camera, just in time for my second grandchild to be born. This unfortunate incident will not define me, what it has done is to change the way I think about security. I now take steps to be safer and that is ok because I have learned from this. Tomorrow is another day.

Where does time go

Time seems to get away from me. Spring is slowly creeping in and I must be outside getting ready to plant. I absolutely love this time of year when you can watch things grow. It seems to me like I need to pencil time in to write.I have though been working on why I titled this blog the way I did. But that will take time because it goes to the inter-most part of ones self. The heart. And I am still learning how to share.

But until that is done let me share my walk with you. I decided my daughter, who will be giving birth in about a month, needed a little exercise so we went to the Sandy river to enjoy one of the few days that we have had good weather here. I love being outside. I love the fresh air and the smell of spring. Watching flowers and trees come to life after a long winters nap, and I mean a long winters nap. But it was a perfect day with the warmth of the sun on our face and the ever so gentle breeze blowing.

We had no agenda we just slowly walked along the rocky path. Listening to the water lapping up against the river rock. To our surpise we ran into this little bird. If you look close you can see her eggs they are to the left of where she is standng. Such a strange place to lay eggs.



She wasn't too happy we were there, she screeched at us then charged us all the while she was puffing out her tail feathers. I think she scared us more than we scared her.




All in all it was a wonderful day

I long for more days like it.

my million dollar shot

I have finally hit the big time. I knew my ship would come in some day.And with the wonderful world wide webb I will be able to sail away into the sunset. Ebay is one of those great sites you can make your millions on. People will buy just about anything. So if pieces of french toast with the picture of the Virgin Mary burned into can sell then so can mine. I was making my lunch the other morning casually grabbing potatoe chips out of the bag when what do I lay my hands on? The chip with the smily face!!! It is a sign I know it is a sign. And I think I am going to sell it to highest bidder. The sweet life here I come!

 

Crawl first

Writing is a lot like walking I have discovered. With walking you first learn to crawl. You can’t get very far but it is better than sitting around watching the world go by. As you learn to grab hold of the edge of the table you teeter and sway as you stand, wow the world is so different from this point of view. You fall often as you persist to try again and again to find balance. But with one foot in front of the other you finally take that first magical step. There begins the journey. Slowly at first with great caution, carefully ever so carefully, because you have learned it can be painful to fall on one’s bum. It seems like the learning part takes for ever but before you know it you are running with the big kids.

Writing is the same way; you painfully crawl across the paper, trying to allow the natural flow of thought. With one word in front of another you slowly see sentences start to take shape, though at first not much of it makes sense. You strive to bring color and intention to paper what seem so vivid in your mind. You try again and again to rearrange the words to best express yourself but you continue to fall on your bum. Why does thought flow so easily but words are so constrained? It is hard to put into words ones thoughts and emotions without sounding like gibberish.
I guess one starts as one walks with first a crawl, followed with that teetering stand as you begin to look at the world with a different perspective. At last it all comes together. The magic of written words, taking you to places you never dreamed of going.
You finally get to run with the big kids.

It is my birthday today

I turn fifty three today, normally I would not announce this to the world, but this one has special significance. My father died when he turned fifty three on May 3rd .......... his birthday. He is the only I know of that was born and then died on the same day.

This picture of my Father was taken thirty three years ago he was 48.

For the last year I have thought about this a lot. Will I wake up that morning? Would I follow in his footsteps and have a heart attack? Will I live to see another day?

It is such a weird thing to think about.

I am not afraid of death, I kind of look forward to it because I know who my savior is. It is just the fact that I am the same age as he was. All those many years ago he seemed so much older. Fifty Three is not old.

I miss him, I wish I could have know him better. He was a very private man. Raised in the depression, he grew up facing tough times. A blue collar kind of guy in fact he kind of reminded me of Archie Bunker, he had the same type of facial details, with that sad tired look in his eyes. The eyes tell it all, eyes that have seen and experienced too much in life. Tired eyes, when one has worked too hard for too little.

Born in 1927 he was the third of twelve. The family migrated here from Ireland and the Welsh country. His younger years were tough. I use to hear tidbits sitting around the table during family reunions about how rowdy he and his brothers were. They never expanded on those stories, too many children around with big ears. I do have a picture some where with him and another brother sitting on a ledge at Boys Town USA, yes the real one with Father Flannigan. My brothers and sisters and I were told that they were sent there because the family could no longer afford to feed everyone since it was during the depression. I think maybe if truth were to be told it was because they were just a little bit too rowdy to handle.

So I guess it shouldn’t have surprised me when I found out he once was a semi-pro boxer. I have one picture of him in his boxing trunks, it is the only picture I have showing him with a full head of hair. I only knew him as being bald. I wish I could find that picture.

His life was not all bad nor was his times all tough. He did a good job raising a family in the middle of a wheat field in eastern Washington. Even though there was not a lot of money we did not lack and there were many good times. He was a hard working Irish man, with a love for the Boy Scouts. I will always have wonderful memories of our family vacations on the Oregon Coast. And I was lucky enough to have him still here to walk me down the isle. I wish I could have known him better.


So here I am Fifty Three, the same age as he was when he died. I miss him.

All I know is the Good Lord is not done with me yet because he allowed me to wake up this morning..................Halleluiah!


So I will sit with my morning coffee, thanking my God that He sustains me. Watching the little birdies feed outside my patio door. (There is something very peaceful about this.) Then I have the great privilege of taking my daughter who is 7 months pregnant to her ultra sound, to be able to see the amazing gift of life inside her, my second granddaughter.


So I celebrate my life today.



I am blessed with three lovely grown children all finding there way in the world. My first granddaughter never ceases to make me laugh who truly is the joy of my life, and I am surrounded by wonderful group of friends. Life can’t get much better than this.

My times are in His hands!

What an amazing day this already is!!

A snippet

I have been thinking about what to write next, I am tortured over this. I made the statement when I started blogging I was not going to be consumed by this. I was not not going to stay up untill all of hours of the night, writing and reading other blogs.But that is not happening. Two nights in a row now I have stayed up untill midnight. I am consumed. This can't happen, life has to go on, before you know it I will be calling in sick to work to write my blog. I still have dishes and laundry to do for pete's sake.

I struggle in knowing what to write, which in making that statement in itself is kind of funny. Since I have never been known as one with few words. Hmmmmmmm can a woman express herself with just a few words? Nor have I been afraid to express my opinions. Ask my dear friend Jules about that one. :o)

So I have decided to start smaller. Snippets of my life if you will. Not novels. Yes I do put that kind of pressure on myself. To write the every lasting saga. A snippet is doable. And not nearly as scary. So if you read this and you are a seasoned blogger give the new girl a few tips. I want to grow in this and become better at expressing my thoughts on paper.


So a snippet here and a snippet there is worth a try.

Now off to do laundry
and then to work

Doing the Old Lady thing

I am not old, so what if I am on the other side of fifty, barely, I am not old. But I keep doing these old lady things. It is bad enough I walk into a room and immediately say "Why did I come in here?" I have gotten use to having to back track my steps to figure out that one.
But this last Friday takes the cake.


I went shopping on my lunch, I have to get out of the building where I work at the Post Office. Otherwise I am answering the phone or solving problems at the front counter. So here I am at Kohls. Just down the street from where I work. I get out of the car and make a mental note of where I am parked. (old lady thing) I am three spots from the handi-cap parking, with my car facing the door. Ok,I know where my car is parked, I can go in now. It was fun, picked up a couple of maternity tops for my daughter who is due in June and a new Faberware frying pan for myself. I was happy camper. Sometimes shopping is better than chocolate. Not as cheap though.

So I pay for my stuff and quickly head out the door. I only have an hour for lunch, Imust be getting back. I go straight to where the car should be parked. The third spot from the handi-cap one, facing the door. But there is no car. That's ok I am not going to panic yet, I calmly look up and down the rows of Mini-vans and Suv's, Expecting to see my little car at any moment. But mine is no where to be found. Ok now I start to panic, just a little. I have all these thoughts going through my head at once as I am standing there in the spot where my car should be. "How am I going to get back to work?" "WHY on earth would any one want to steal my Chevy Prizm.?" "Oh no! Do I even remember my license plate number?" Ok now I am ready to loose it. That sick feeling settles in my stomach. Ok I have to do it, I have to call the police and let them know. "Oh Lord please don't let me cry when I am talking to the cops."I pick up my cell phone, I have to do it, I have to dial 911. But then I thought "ok just maybe I parked on the OTHER side of the building." I guess I have nothing to loose but to go and looked before I make "the call"


Oh brother..............there it is...... my car...........in the third spot from the handi-cap one......facing the door. But is the the door on the EAST side of the building.......not the NORTH. And as I look at the door and the outside of the building, it looks EXACTLY the same.

Good Lord, how can I be such an idiot. So driving back to work I decided I needed to be a responsible shopper and write Khols. After all I am sure I am not the only person this has happened to. There should be some kind of shopper law that states both sides of your building can not look the same. They could have at the very least painted one of the doors red.

My life continues.......

Its been a hard day

It is late and its been a hard day. And I don't know what to write. I having been looking at other blogs getting ideas but is not stiring up those creative juices.

It was funny this weekend though. Had my granddaughter staying with me she is 8 and very much a little Diva. Well she has seem to take a liking to my back scratcher. As she walked out
my bedroom door she said "Grandma when you pass can I have your back scratcher?" I laughed
out loud and quickly informed her that I did not need to pass in order for her to have a back scratcher. She is the love of my life and is forever saying things that amaze me. I need to write more about those kinds of things.

To me blogging is alot like journeling, which is something I have always had problems with. I want to learn though to be able to write what I am feeling. So I will stumble along here.

My first blog! Oh my word what a strange concept, me blogging? I am taking a step or I should say a flying leap off the edge. But for so long I have had a deep desire to put into words all that I feel or see. So with the help of my friend Jules I have jumped off the edge of the abyss into the unknown. The thing I want to do most here is not take myself to seriously.I want to learn and grow and become a better writer.So I am taking baby steps And boy am I scared.

My first post

A Friday Blessing

It was Friday at the Post Office, I had a gentleman at my counter mailing a package to his father. Two things were obvious. One; that his father was a man of the cloth since the package he was mailing was addressed to Bishop so and so. And second; that he was concerned about how much this was going to cost. I see this quite often, those that are mailing items that you know for them spending the money for postage is a strain on their finances. It is sad,
I wish I could pay the postage every time I saw this. Anyway we had pleasant conversation while he was at my window, it has always been amazing to me how much you can learn about someone in the two or three minuets that they stand in front of you. I took care of his package and then he left.

By this time I was helping two young women. One of the handed me two envelopes with money inside, she had found them in the lobby. People leave things all of the time in the Post Office and for the most part they never come back for their items. As I looked at the envelopes though there was something familiar about the writing. I thought of the gentleman I had just waited on.
I retrieve his package and sure enough it was the same. So I wrote down his address. Thinking later I would write him a note, asking if he had lost something while he was at the Post Office. I knew if it was his He would be able to tell me what it was and how much. I put it aside until the end of the day.

So here it is Friday night at 7:00, I want to go home I am tired it has been a long week. And then I remember about writing the letter to this man. My first reaction was "oh man, I don't want to do this." But remembering how he stood in front of me and counted his pennies I knew this would be important. So I wrote the letter and once more headed out the door. But once again I was stopped. There was that little voice saying "no at letter is not enough" I knew the Lord prompted me to call him. It is Friday night, I knew he wouldn't get the letter or the money until Monday and when you are in need $20.00 dollars can be a fortune.

So off into the office I go to look up his number on line, it took a little bit of doing but I managed to find it. I called and first got his mother. I can't imagine what I must have sounded like trying to explain why I was calling. She must have been thinking this lady from the Post Office is a crazy person. Once I got a hold of the man I had waited on he told me he had been looking everywhere for the money. His room, his car his office any where he could thing of.


Now here is the cool part. He had told me he had just been praying, "Thank-you God for such an awesome day...thank you for all that I accomplished But God you know how important that money is to me if someone finds it and needs it so be it. But God if you could possibly get it back to me"............and that is when I called.

God is so amazing................. I love how he orchestrates the day. I would have missed out on this blessing if I would have shrugged off the prompting to write the letter in the first place and gone home like I wanted to. What a lesson in obedience!!!

Isn’t God Good