His eye is on the sparrow, Hallelujah

Lately I have made an honest attempt to read more. I know, shocking isn't it. I've found that when I read, my mind wanders. I will read a whole page before I realize that I have not not absorbed a single sentence, even a single word.
Last week I was finishing the last in the Harry Potter series in the quiet hours of the morning, sitting in the chair I had sat in a year or so before while my Dad sat on the couch next to me in the late, quiet hours of another night, when into my mind came a picture. I was looking into my old church. The Episcopal cathedral that I attended with my Dad when I was young. The same place that we held my Grandmothers memorial service. I remember as a little girl sitting in the pews and just looking around in wonder at the stained glass windows, the thick smell of incense in the air. I saw the room and saw the pews with the kneelers, I looked around first from the main aisle and then from the pulpit, or maybe it is only called the pulpit in the Baptist church, I'm not sure. It's the same place I sat on an April Fool's day many years ago and, while a prayer began and I should have had my eyes closed, I instead turned and whispered for him to look at a bird that had flown into the rafters. He believed me, of course and began looking and then, snickering, I said full of pride that the trick had worked, "April fools". It's a story we retell each other often. That day he turned with absolutely no expression and replied,"You are in so much trouble when we get home." I was horrified at what I had done, and just sure that this punishment would be quite severe as I couldn't ever remember having been in "so much trouble" with him before. I hadn't received a spanking that I could remember in all my years of being his daughter and so I began to cry. His face softened and he whispered into my ear,"April Fools". We laugh about it all now because I was just sure that I had finally pushed him to the place where I would be in trouble for making a joke, which never had, nor has since happened. But this time I was standing in the aisle of an empty Cathedral and I could hear Leonard Cohen's "Hallelujah" playing. This is significant because back on the night that I sat in the same chair where I now found myself, we were watching "Feast of Love", a movie that I had needed to see from the first time I saw the trailer and then once seen had to own and share. As we began to watch I became embarrassed, as the first time I watched alone, and couldn't be embarrassed about the amount of nudity. I had forgotten it because it is a beautiful story about relationships and love and tragedy and well, the nudity was not absorbed as much as the lesson of never being afraid to love deeply. As we watched the music began and I remember saying how much the music spoke to me and Dad sighed and said that song was one of the songs he wanted played at his funeral. And so I sat in the wee hours of the morning thinking about Dad and his funeral and the Cathedral and the odor of wafting incense. As morning began and the littles woke and began their morning routines I couldn't lose the song. Later while folding laundry I began to hum a tune, which usually happens for some reason when I fold laundry. I think because I am alone and can sing without fear of being heard. As I hummed I began to sing,

"I sing because I'm happy,

I sing because I'm free,

for his eye is on the sparrow

and he watches over me. "

The lyrics are really,"And I know He watches me", but for some reason, "He watches over me", is what I know, and what I sing when I'm all alone in the laundry room.
Later that afternoon my Brother called, which is rare, but not unexpected as he will be here this weekend. He had called to tell me that my Dad had been in a accident. My heart sank and the first thing that came out of my mouth was that I had known it all day long. My brother knowing me well said that he knew when he called that that is what I would say.
I don't think I'm psychic, not at all, but so many times I have picked up the phone to call my Mom and it was busy because she was calling me. Even once when I had a land line I picked up to call and she was already on the line, she had heard the ring on her end but I had not yet on mine. There are times when my Dad has called when I needed him to without plan or consciousness on either of our parts. I think this is God's way of connecting us one to another. His way of tapping us on the shoulder. And I don't think that me in the church with a song in my mind that will be played at my Father's funeral is a premonition of his death either. I think it is my way of shoring up. Just as the same morning that I had sung "His eye is on the sparrow" standing in the laundry room of my own home, my Mom had been singing it to herself in her home, not telling each other or sharing, it was placed in both of our minds so that when my Brother called her on his way home from visiting Dad in the E.R. she would remind him of the same thing that I had been singing throughout the day.
Yesterday and the evening before I read Joan Dideon's the Year of Magical Thinking, a book I have wanted to read for the longest time, but never made it to the library to get, until a few days ago, in which she mentions her way of shoring up for disaster. She writes how she was prepared with emergency candles and numbers and papers, and that it was her way of shoring up for disaster. I have my important papers and my flashlights, but in a true emergency I doubt that I will think to grab the papers or have working batteries in the flashlights, as I usually find them strewn about the house burned out. I don't feel the need for paper work, I instead feel the need to shore up my own heart, not to block out love, but so that I am prepared emotionally when there is a loss of someone I love, not that there is any real way to do that.
Yesterday with littlest at the grandparents the biggers and I decided to take a hike on some local trails. I packed a lunch and grabbed the bug spray and as I did I kept thinking of other things to pack. We had food already, so I grabbed matches, and a box cutter and a clean towel and the Benadryl and anything else, oh yes, band aids, I could think of that we might need if we became lost or were attacked by a bear or if one of the kids cut themselves or had a reaction. For a three hour walk through the woods on well marked trails, I needed all of this. I guess in some ways I do shore up for disaster, but none came and we had a wonderful time and had a picnic on a rock by the stream. On the way I had said a quick prayer, "Lord please don't take Dad, I'm just not ready." Rather than praying as I should have and allowing God to do what He does in His time and in His way, but as a little girl asking to not have to leave the park yet, because she isn't done playing.
When we lost my Step Dad in January we were all crushed. I know that even as an adult, I am still my parents child and childlike with them in many ways. When I have a really bad day or am sad about whatever it is I am sad about, I need my husband and my children, but I need my parents as well. I need their advice and their laughter and the way they make me smile and feel safe just as they did when I was really a child. I need my husband who thinks it's silly to pack a box cutter in case some escaped convict jumps out from behind a tree and the parents who think that while I may not have to use them, I am somewhat protected by the things that I have packed, because they themselves cannot be there to protect me. And so when Jimmy died we were extremely sad, but he was ready and had been for while a while. It was justifiable. His mind had gone, and it would confuse him to have visitors, anything away from his normal routine would confuse him and while in selfishness we wanted him to stay we were comforted by the knowledge that he was Home. I joked at the time that he was on the back nine of the most beautiful golf course he had ever seen and was able to stand without help and swing the club harder than he had in years. He was no longer sick, or confused and was Home, where he belonged and well deserved to be.
I remember back years ago when my Grandfather (my Step-Mothers father) passed away and then not long after my Grandmother (my Dad's mom) followed. I remember walking with my Dad to see her and say goodbye and as I began to cry I mumbled "I hate this". Not understanding what I meant my Dad reassured that we didn't have to see her. "Not this", I cried making circles with my hands trying to represent the current moment, and then held my hands out in front of me, again making circles,"This". The whole thing, death. Losing two people who I loved in a matter of months, it was just too hard. Losing two people years apart is too hard, losing someone you love is just too hard. They were in a better place, out of pain and at peace, but it was too hard for me. God's timing is hard and it doesn't make sense to our mortal hearts. The loss of grandparents is normal, the loss of parents to an adult child is normal, the loss of children is not normal in any way, shape or form, but no matter the relation, I believe that God has His reason and his timing that we may never fully understand but we must trust, until we do. Age justifies death, just as illness. No one wants to say goodbye to a loved one just as no one wants to see that loved one hurting or in pain or confusion from which they will not return. I'm not ready for my Grandmothers to go although they have both told me that they are ready. And I get it. They have had long happy lives, they are strong beautiful women who raised their own children and saw the generation after that grow and raise the one after that which continues to grow. They were wives to the men they loved and they miss them and I have no doubt that even as we cry when they are called Home, they will be welcomed into the arms of their soul mates who went before them.
I don't dwell on future death of loved ones, but I do sometimes find myself imagining the aisles of the Churches and what will be said and whether I will be able to speak or to even form words. I wonder how long I will be able to pick up the phone and call my parents, or how many more times our calls will pass on those lines. It isn't for me to know, of which I am glad, and it isn't for me to ask for in my own time, because that would never come. And so I pray and I try to shore my own self up, so that when the call does come I will be prepared even though I know that it doesn't work that way. Just as we are still sad and heartbroken and grieving while holding the knowledge that they were ready. But I do know this and it is in disagreement with the last line from Ms. Dideon's book, His eye is most definitely on the sparrow, on the smallest of beings and on the largest, the strongest and most frail and He does absolutely watch over me, and you, and I'm sure that tune will mix with others in future years as I stand and say goodbye to loved ones. And I'm sure that no matter what lyrics are sung I will drift off and remember the graham cracker marshmallow treats and the candy dishes that define my Grandmother's for me, and I will remember the songs that my Mom sang to me at bedtime and the April fools joke and inappropriate laughter and movie watching with Dad, the strength and tuna casserole that are my Step-Mom and the vows I made to my husband. And through the tears I will most likely chuckle just a bit a funny memory, not out of disrespect but out of love for someone who once made me laugh. Because even if they aren't here to embrace, or answer the questions that I need to ask, or chuckle at the silly things I do, I have shored up their memory and I will carry those things, the most precious of all gifts with me and then one day they will be waiting for me, with open arms in a blinding brightness. And I will say...

I did my best,it wasn't much

I couldn't feel, so I tried to touch

I've told the truth, I didn't come to fool you

And even though It all went wrong

I'll stand before the Lord of Song

With nothing on my tongue but Hallelujah

Hallelujah, Hallelujah,Hallelujah, Hallelujah

Hallelujah, Hallelujah,Hallelujah, Hallelujah

Hallelujah, Hallelujah,Hallelujah, Hallelujah

Hallelujah, Hallelujah,Hallelujah, Hallelujah

Hallelujah

(Leonard Cohen)

I'm packing up my toys and going home

No, not really, besides I am at home, which also means that all of my toys are here anyway. If I was going to pack up and go anywhere it would most definitely be to Florida to sit at my Dad's bedside and have long sessions of inappropriate laughter with him about the indignities of being in the hospital. But I'm pretty sure that those of you who read this already know that story and well, it worries me enough to think about it, and to process it all enough to write about it would make me sad, so I'm going to just skip over that story and move on to my story about, well, moving on.
After many moments of careful consideration and not many moments of packing up things that just sold, I have decided to close down my Etsy shop. I instead will be following the lead of my hubby and move on to the greener pastures of Ebay. I know big steps right. Nah, not really. It is fun to again be embarking on a new adventure, and I know whatever comes, whether it be success or failure, I am still doing what I love and that is really, really fun.
Another big change that you must know about, just in case you try to find me at my new place of business , I am no longer panapizza, but have made the colossal change to ...wait for it...wait for it... anneliesepanapizza. I know, thankfully I don't have to get my i.d. changed for that. Wouldn't they all look at me funny. Besides anneliesepanapizza is still a name I think of fondly from my childhood.
So that's my newest news and if you sense a tinge of silliness in my writing it is because I have been staring at this screen, digitally packing everything up, moving it over, and unpacking since early this morning, and really you should just be glad that I didn't write this in webdings.

My life in movies

I would love to sit and tell you that I don't watch t.v., that instead we all sit at night and read by firelight. I would love to say that I have never, ever rushed the kiddos to bed to assure that I see the first 5 minutes of a given show, so that I know just who it was that had some horrible thing happen to them. I must admit, sadly that I have, and most of the time I spend the first 5 minuted of said show thinking about the fact that it was terrible that I just threw my kids into bed and traded them for television.
I have found that when I write these little bits, I tend, at some times to sound a bit overly romantic. My sweet children who I am in awe of daily and my husband who was made just for me. It is all true. I do love my family. I am blessed to be a mom and wife. I have parents that I adore and who are always there for all of us. I am a lucky, lucky, blessed girl, and I know it. The problem is that I don't want any of you to think that I'm full of it. I am not.
Life can be as tragic as it is wonderful, and while it seems sometimes to be a hearty strong thing, it can just as easily be broken down. Like a dam that needs constant tending so that when the flood does come, it doesn't wash away the whole town, life and love need constant attention.
As my daughter, who is now home from her cross country romp, and I sat watching "Ya ya Sisterhood" the other night, I began thinking just how life can mimic the movies, or at least how movies certainly do mirror life. There is a scene where the character Vivi runs to her sick child only to find that all of her children have come down with the flu. She is holding one child who gets sick on her, while the others all cry, and well, she loses complete control. I believe that the movie goer is supposed to think that she completely lost her marbles. What a crazy lady, right? Well maybe, but there was a winter night in our house that went down just like that, and well(again) I almost almost completely lost control. I had been almost three nights without sleep as Middle Little was up with a stomach flu. Just as he was recovering Lady and Littlest became sick at exactly the same moment. There I was trying to direct littlest body so as to not get the sheets any dirtier than they were, and stepping in things on the floor that I shall not mention here, while Lady, across the house was calling for me. It was almost just like the movie. I began to cry(sob), and my husband began to look at me as if I had grown two or four heads, because who cries over vomit?(me obviously). But I didn't run off for three days of sleep in a hotel room, as Vivi does (although I really, really wanted to), instead I cleaned up the mess, started the washer, loaded a couple of unsalvageable things into a trash bag and carried it outside, set my foot on a fresh patch of ice, landed on the icy pavement and just sat and cried.
See, it isn't always marvelous here in the cove, but I am sure you all suspected that. We have days where bedtime is more like a scene from "Night at the Museum" . The directions say to lock the lions up before they eat you, you know. While we do have fairy tale days where everything goes according to plan, we also have days where there is enough tension to blow the roof off at any moment as in some action flick. There are moments when the boys throw down like a scene from "Fight Club". I have times when I can't keep up, days where I feel like both sides of Cinderella, the one who cleans and the one who runs off with her prince. If I am going to be completely honest, which is really the whole point here, I have days where I want to have a knock down, drag out, "War of the Roses" fight with my husband and I'm sure he has days where he wants to "Throw Mama from the Train". That's just life. Good and bad, pretty, ugly, and down right disgusting, happy, sad, and amazingly hysterical. But no matter how it is at any given moment I do know this, it is a gift, and it is up to all of us to make the best of the bad times and relish the good and maybe even hope for better. I loved the movie "Little Miss Sunshine". It is the perfect example of a family trying to do the best for their little girl while everything is going wrong. The teenage boy is tells his uncle how he wishes he could just skip the teenage years and the uncle replies that they are necessary because if you didn't have hard times how would you know how wonderful the good times are. That might be one of the most simple and wonderful things to take away. Life can be all of the things I said before, and so I can focus on the bad side of life, the hard times that everyone in their own way is dealing with, or I can focus on the good side, the raw beauty, and that is what I choose to do here, if not to tell you about it, maybe just to remind myself. Life is short we all know that, and have learned the lesson the hard way even though we are told. I want to be the parent who, when my children have a bad day, no matter how old they get, come to me for advice or assistance like I do with my parents. I want to be the kind of wife who my husband wants to come home to at the end of a stressful day, because I help him find peace. It is easy to let myself believe that to be that person for my family I have to be perfect, all smiles and no tears. I know, though, that is not the case at all, I just have to be real. In bad times, I don't need the candy coating, although a bag of MnM's does help in some situations. I need the ones who say,"Yeah, I've been there and it really sucks."
Life is all about the highs and lows and even the sideways. It is truly the the lessons learned in the hard times that help us appreciate the good. So, while the things I write here are true and very real, I also have things in my life that are not so rosy, like the day I shared about falling through the heat vent.
I will leave you with this, in "Sex and the City" , the girls are having a conversation about whether they are happy or not. They ask Charlotte how often she is happy and she says ,"Every day". The other women look at her like she is lying and her response is something like this,"I'm not saying that I'm happy all day every day, but yes, at some point every day, I am happy."
I think that pretty much sums it up, don't you?

A brothers love

We are in the final countdown until Lady Little's wheels touch down a little closer to home. It has been a month since we saw her last. A long, testosterone filled month. I am in serious need of some good old fashioned girl talk and most definitely a mani/pedi day with my firstborn. Last night as we all settled in for the night I mentioned this need to the hubs. He just didn't get it, and actually looked quite offended that my boys were not enough to make me happy. Of course it's not that at all. I have enjoyed my boy time tremendously. I have loved watching Middle Little ride his bike over his new ramp as Littlest rolled his dump truck down the hill to see what it crashed into. It's just that life with all boys in the house is a bit more rough around the edges than it is when there is a girl in the mix. Plus, my boys just don't understand a bad hair day that can't be fixed with a baseball cap and in their world there is no reason to put on makeup before a trip to the flea market. She gets those things, and I am, as we all are, ready for her to come home.
The truth is though that while the sensitivity level of our household has gone down quite a bit since she left, I am happy to say that it has not been lost all together. A testament to that was my sweet Middle's actions yesterday. Littlest had his 3 year checkup with our family doctor. With the Hubs at work I had prepared myself to take both boys. Now, I can handle heading out with both boys most days, but when a doctors office waiting room, and possibility of shots is thrown in, I tend to have anxiety over it.
The morning did not begin as I had hoped. It was filled with bickering and all sorts of disagreeing. When we arrived and I began to fill out the paperwork, Littlest began acting like one of those kids. You know the ones that you look at in the store and think, or even maybe say out loud,"Boy, if that were my child...". It wasn't pretty. His actions mixed with the fact that Middle would really rather have been anywhere else at that moment and was not too timid to tell me so, prompted me to text my sweet hardworking husband to say that the next appointment was all his. After weighing and measuring we were put into our little room. Ahhh, a controllable environment with no senior citizens to horrify. All was going well. Middle was enjoying the company of our doctor and her nurse, who he may just have the tiniest crush on. Dr. I decided that we should check Littlest's iron level. "No problem", I said way too soon. "He does really well with the finger prick".
No such luck, as the lab they use requires a blood draw. Of course they don't require that you come into the lab, they know better.
Up on the table he went and the doctor sweetly explained to him just what would happen and while it didn't really sound anything like this, this is what I heard.
"You will hold your strong willed 3 year old down while we do our utmost to get the blood before he screams."
Now remember that an exasperated Middle was in the room with us, making a mental list of all of the places he would rather be than in this tiny room with his stinky brother and his grumpier by the minute Mom. While the doctor explained what was about to happen, this is what he must have heard."NOW we're going to set your sweet little brother on this table, see, and your Mom is going to hold him down, see, and laugh at his pain while we take this huge needle and fill this bucket up with his blood. Muahahahah!"
As the procedure began it looked like it might all go off without too much drama. Littlest was being very agreeable and held his squeezy truck while they tapped his chubby arm looking for a vein. I tenderly draped myself over him and brushed the hair from his forehead as they began. He watched in awe. What male of the species wouldn't love three women talking sweetly and focusing on just them, right? And then it happened. A scream that surely shocked the elderly patients in the other rooms ripped through the examining room. I tried my best to hold him still, but to no avail as the needle popped out of his arm.
"Well, we'll have to try the other arm", the nurse explained. We all did a swticharoo, but quickly decided that the other arm was best so again we traded places. As I looked over to check on Middle I saw that he had covered his ears to block out his little brothers cries. I did my best to assure him while also doing my utmost to keep Littlest from jumping off the table.
More determined than ever we began again. Holding tightly to his legs and making way more promises than I will ever be able to keep, I tried to explain the need to hold still so that these sweet ladies didn't need a stiff drink when the shift was over.
In a whirlwind of screams and tears we finally had success. As the three of us had a short celebration of victory and told Littlest what a big boy he had been, all of our eyes fell on my sweet Middle Little. He was curled up in a ball in the chair, covering his ears and his face. Before I could reach him, our sweet physician patted his back and told him it was all done. As he sat up we all saw it. The tears that were streaming down his face were every bit as big and real as his baby brother's. It was if he had felt the same fear and pain that his brother had. He came to my side and buried his face. I reassured both of my boys, and remembered back to a few days after we brought Littlest home. The hospital called to say that I had left something. As I hung up Middle looked at me with huge eyes and asked if we had to take his little brother back. All was well as we left the appointment. The stickers and lollipops that filled both of their hands must have wiped away the trauma. I didn't need stickers, the fact that we were on our way home was enough for me.
I'm sure that we will have more bicker filled days. Middle will surely have days where he wishes he was an only child, as all children do at one time or another. But no matter what, they are siblings, and while it may be fine in their own minds to torment eachother, everyone else had better watch out. Had the ones torturing his brother been a pack of bullies and not a sweet doctor nurse duo the outcome most likely would have been very different.

5 years

We've had good times and bad, health and sickness, we've been richer and we've been poorer, we've kept our vows to love, comfort, and cherish...
In some ways the past 5 years have sped by like a lightening flash, yet at the very same time I find it hard to realize that it has only been 5 years. It has been five years of living our vows, not because we promised each other, or God, or our friends and family, but rather because we want to. I know that we will have times of want, and there may be days when it is harder to keep those vows we made. But for now, we realize how lucky we were to find each other. Not everyone finds their soul mate. We realize the blessings of friends and family, and children running amok. We are thankful for our home and our cozy beds. We are thankful for laughter that we share and comfort we give each other. And to this day and hopefully for many many more years to come, no matter what is to come, he will be by my side and I by his and out littles all around. Because I now know more than ever that I would rather live in a tin can with him, than a mansion on a hill with someone else.


I love you baby, now more than ever.

Stumbling around in heat induced delirium

The weather is HOT!! I know, I know, it's summer right? You could go back just a few posts and read where I was complaining about how cold it was and how I longed for warm weather. Now
it's here and I am once again complaining because it's hot. It's not so much that I don't like the heat. Really it doesn't bother me all that much,and seeing how I live in the mountains, it isn't as bad as my "peeps" who live in Florida. It's just that with the heat comes the heaty grumps. You know the ones where you fear anyone coming within a few feet of you on the off chance they may want to touch you, driving your body heat up a few painful degrees, not to mention the fact that they might just block the fan's cool breeze that you just spent fifteen minutes setting to blow perfectly in your direction.
The heat I believe is what has contributed to the boys new game of "Clash of the Titans". Not so much a game as it is a reenactment, which leads usually to tattling and trying to see who can say "OUCH" the loudest, thus seeing how loud my Medusa impression can get and just how far away from each other I will make them go. And yet they seem drawn back to each other with some sort of internal brotherly gravity.
Lady little has completely given up on the boys and their new pass time and has tucked herself away in her room until the exact time she will leave for her summer tour. I can't say I blame her. Sometimes it is best to be grumpy all alone.
I don't mean to make it sound like times are miserable, they're not at all. There is plenty of happy sand play and bike riding, it's just that between the hours of 3 and 6 when the sun hits just right on the house to drive the inside temps up 5 or 10 degrees its not a pretty sight.
And so I sit this morning searching for something to fill those miserably hot hours before dinner, bath and bed. In part I am also putting off the list of things to do today. The washer is running, but I dread the dishwasher. I need to clean and garden, but for now I just need a little time wasting.
My sweet techie girl introduced me to stumbleupon.com a few months ago. I'm always looking for new craft ideas and it is a fun and free way to waste time while collecting ideas for gifts. I love to be crafty. The problem is that it can get expensive, and so I am always looking to something that I can make out of something I already have. A few weeks ago I took apart the kids old bikes and organized all of the parts and made a Father's Day gift for my Dad. Sounds fun right? He will read this and wonder, but I really think and definitely hope that he will like it. I would put up a picture, but the gift is on it's way, so I will have to wait until next week so as to not ruin the surprise. Anywhoo, I love taking something and turning it into something else. Finding life in something inanimate. I am most definitely that lady that will knit sweaters out of old dryer lint when I am old, but for now I try to stick to things that are more on the "normal" side. Normal is most likely not the right word to put there but you get my meaning I'm sure.
I save cans and bottles, because you never know when you can use them. Starbucks coffee jars are really pretty when you take the wrapper off and add colored beads, and then wire them to
hang in the window. They would also make great votive holders, except I don't light candles very often, for fear that I will get caught up in craft land and burn the whole darn place to the ground. My husband knows the look I get when I am intrigued by something. He can look at me and immediately know that while he doesn't know where I am going, I am most assuredly
somewhere else. Last night my sweet girl asked me why I had cans in the dishwasher.
"I'm saving them," I said.
"For what," was her next question.
"I don't know, I might want to make something with them,".
She had a look of fear, like my answer was going to be that I was making her a new outfit for her first day of her sophomore year.
"Well, o.k., as long as you don't turn in to one of those whorder people I'm fine with it. "
I have stashes of fabric and paper, beads and paint. I just sometimes need a little help with what to do with it. As I was "stumbling" this morning I found a site that showed me how to make a gift box out of a soda can. I felt better. It looked like fun. I also learned that I'm not the only one who likes to make something out of nothing. And believe me I will show Lady little as soon as she wakes just to ease her fears.

Glorious Perspective

Good days and bad days. You know how it goes. I have days where the fear creeps up and smacks me even before I heard it creeping. Most days I'm fine, and able to appreciate all of the wonder that comes with the simple life we live. Watching the Littles grow up in this calm little cove, spending time with my neighbor/adoptive family member/garden buddy/mentor on all things, seeing my husband appear through the door after work and watching the kiddos run and announce that "DADDY'S HOME". Life is good all the time, and yet those creeping fears still seem to surface. The fact that my husband's job may just be teetering on the edge as so many are these days, and the fact that might mean that I will be adding server to my profile once again. I sometimes need to stop and remind myself that we will have food and a home, and that most importantly, no matter how bad things get we will still have those same friends and family there to love us no matter what. I see my worries and they are quickly put into perspective when I talk with that same buddy and he tells me that his wife of over 50 years is not feeling well and there will be tests and possibly surgery. I see the creeping fear in his eyes when he lets himself go to that place where his beloved is gone and he is still here. Most fear full moments
pass quickly and most times I find it quite easy to put things back into perspective. I can just open my eyes and look around, and see the situations that others are facing and realize that we have it so good. And so,the other morning while taking some pictures of my newly flourishing
garden, I thought it was time for a little inspiration. I pulled out my Bible and a stack of quote books and searched for anything to pass something on. Of course I didn't have to look for long before I found enough for 15 posts. The funny thing is that before I could get this post written, something happened that put everything just a little further into focus. As Lady little and I ran out for treats last night to celebrate the last day of school, the hubs called to let me know that the power had gone out. As we arrived back in the cove we passed all of the dark houses with doors open. Complete silence. This time rather than the power being restored within a short time it was out all evening and well into the night. I sat with my babes all huddled on the couch talking and telling stories. We watched as the first lightening bugs of the summer appeared all over the front yard, and just sat in silence as they flickered magically as far as we could see. We watched as our neighbors came by to check on a homebound family member. We watched and listened for the trucks from the power company, an then watched again as their mighty spotlights danced around looking for the problem. We talked about how things used to be, not so long ago, right in this very spot. How they used to wash their clothes in the same creek that they bathed in. The simpler times with much harder work days. Ahh how wonderful it is to gain glorious perspective. Times when you did what you did to survive and then went to sleep at night being thankful for the wonderful abundance that you were given so graciously.




Rejoice in the Lord always, I will say it again:Rejoice! Let your gentleness be evident to tall. The Lord is near. Do not be anxious about anything but in everything by prayer and petition, with Thanksgiving, present your request to God. And the peace of God which transcends all understanding will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. Philippians 4:4




Not what we have, but what we enjoy constitutes our abundance.
John Petit- Senn





Joy is what happens to us when we allow ourselves to recognize how good things really are.
Marianne Williamson




Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and yo will find rest for your souls."
Matthew 11: 28,29





This is the gift- to have the wonderful capacity to appreciate again and again, freshly, and naively, the basic goods of life with awe, pleasure, wonder and even ecstasy.
Abraham Maslow





All the really great things in life are expressed in the simplest words;
friends and family; purpose and meaning; love and work; caring and community; appreciation and gratitude.
Dan Zadra



Abundance is not something we acquire. It is something we tune into.
Wayne Dyer





We are most alive in those moments when our heart are conscious of our treasures.
Thornton Wilder






Therefore, since we have been justified though faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ, through whom we have gained
access by faith into this grace, in which we now stand. And we rejoice in the hope of the glory of God. Not only so, but we also rejoice in our sufferings,because we know that suffering produces perseverance, character; and character, hope. And hope does not disappoint us, because God has poured out his love into our hearts by the Holy Spirit, whom He has given us.
Romans 5: 1-5





The world is grand, awfully big and astonishingly beautiful, frequently thrilling.
Dorothy Kilgallen







What we need is to love without getting tired. How does a lamp burn? Through the continuous input of small drops of oil. What are these drops of oil in our lamps? They are the small things of daily life: faithfulness, small words of kindness, a thought for others, our way of being silent, of looking speaking and of acting. Do not look for Jesus away from yourselves. He is not out there; He is in you. Keep your lamp burning and you will recognize Him.
Mother Teresa




The Lord is my shepherd;I shall not want. He makes me to lie down in green pastures; he leads me beside the still waters. He restores my soul; he leads me in the paths of righteousness for His name's sake. Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil; for you are with me; Your rod and Your staff, they comfort me. You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies; You anoint my head with oil; my cup runs over. Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life; and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever.
Psalm 23