Moon shadows

It was a good day today. I slept in a bit, not having to get up early for the electricians who over took my life for the past 3 days. I ate my bowl of cereal in a bed, then got up and did the usual morning routine. Once Autumn was up and ready to go, we headed out the door to Dame Judi's. Once there we chatted, went to a favorite shop, out for lunch, back to her house for tea, and then I ventured to see June and Wee Man. It was good to get my baby fix. I love that little guy. He is a delight. He is my heartbeat. A bit later we headed back to mom's as we were going to the family harvest party at the church my dad pastors.

I still find myself feeling like the odd duck as I watch other couples. I feel awkward. But was soon roped into a game allowing me to just be me. After 2 rounds of the game, Autumn and I headed home.

As we pulled up to the house and started walking to the door I noticed the moon shadows all around. I looked up and saw a clear twinkling sky and a bright full moon. It was gorgeous. It could have only been made better by a blanket of snow. It had a very wintry feel to it. Once in the house I put things away, then nabbed a throw off of the chair in the living room and went to the back yard.

The air was cool, but pleasant. It was so fresh when I breathed it in. It was refreshing. I walked to a wooden chair Dale made me, curled up in it, pulling the blanket snug around me. I looked up. As I did, the words of the hymn 'How Great Thou Art' started to roll around in my head. I stayed silent, letting the words slowly march on, start to finish. I looked at the round dot of the moon, the pin pricks of the stars, thinking how small they appeared. The moon cast shadows through the pine tree onto the grass. It looked almost dream like. It was peaceful. Looking back at the sky, I realized though the moon and stars look so small, that they really are enormous to be so far away and yet I can see them so clearly. I am the small one.

Thank you Lord for Your creation. Thank you that even in the vastness of the sky, You see me.
Thank you that I am Your own. Thank you for my eyes to see, my ears to hear the quiet, my skin to feel the coolness, my lungs to breath refreshment. Thank you for moon shadows that caused me to stop, to be still and to know that you are my God.

The Shepherds Voice

The house is quiet, save the hum of the refrigerator, and the occasional pop of burning logs in the wood stove. Autumn went to bed early as she has been working long hours, while having a cold, and was feeling a bit drained. So, I was left to watch a Fred Astaire and Ginger Rodgers movie by myself. Even with the din of the song and dance, it still seemed quite.

The wind chimes are making their own music, tinkling in the wind. I love the sound of wind chimes, yet when they stop, the night is so quite.

I don't mind the stillness, except when I want to hear the Lord. 'Be still, and know I am God.' But sometimes I still don't hear Him. I want to hear Him. I want to hear Him tell me all is well. I want to hear Him tell me what the future holds, what the direction is for me. I know what Jeremiah 29:11 says. I believe it, I do, but my humanness screams, 'talk to me'. It was easy to know my future, the direction of my life when Dale was alive. I was okay when he said, 'I believe I am to..., I believe the Lord is directing me... It was okay, because I was praying for him as my spiritual leader to be given the wisdom from the Lord to know. I am my own spiritual leader now and it just isn't the same.

'My sheep hear my voice, and I know them, and they follow me.' I am trying hard to hear. I want to hear, I don't like this kind of silence. What am I doing wrong? Am I doing anything wrong. I don't know. Maybe this is just a continuance of this sacred fire I been going through. Oh, I hope I am not being stubborn or stupid which would generate the stillness that at times overtakes me as a dark, moonless night. I don't see the path, I'm not hearing my Shepherds voice calling me. ' Be still and know... O Lord, can I be any quieter? Maybe my spiritual ears have become like my near 49 year old ears. You'll have to speak up, Lord. Speak in my good ear. Please.

Thoughts of peace

I have been attempting to start a venture that, hopefully, would bring in some extra income. I have been making quite a mess in my studio, as I call it. Most the time we call it the 'pink room', because, it is. My goal is to get some things made and put on Etsy by Thanksgiving. Today I realized it is easier to be creative when the desire overcomes you, than when you make yourself to be creative.

I had a house full, okay, only 3 , electricians today. I am having some old wiring replaced, so with all their meandering around my house, I felt a bit like a bird in a cage. I didn't have freedom to go about normal business, free to go into any room in the house, because they were always there. They were even in the bathroom when I needed to be.

I finally decided to just go to the studio as they weren't in there. I started to work on a project already begun, attempting to get it finished. I just wasn't liking the results. I tried different things, different angles, different colors, to no avail. I was getting really frustrated. I started to second guess myself. Maybe I wasn't as creative as I thought. Maybe this isn't what I was suppose to be doing. But what about all the money I have spent getting supplies, was it a waste, was I now stuck with things I would never use? What was I suppose to do??? The crew left for lunch, Autumn was at work, so as soon as they left, I started to cry. I asked the Lord, what I was to do, why wasn't this coming together. I hadn't had my devotions yet, I had tried earlier, but it was to disruptive with them making noise and shouting through the ceiling at each other. In tears I walked over to the big, overstuffed, dark purple chair, where I always sit to have my time with the Lord. I picked up my favorite devotional book. "Lord, you have used this book so often to give me just the right word of encouragement, the right verse. Please let today's verse be what I need." I opened it to October 28, and again, the Lord had just what I needed.

I know the thoughts that I think toward you, saith the Lord, thoughts of peace, and not of evil, to give you an expected end. Jeremiah 29:11
In another version it reads, "I know the plans I have for you, saith the Lord, plans of welfare and not of calamity, to give you a future and a hope.

The tears abated, a smile replaced a grim expression, I knew the task at hand. To continue doing what I was doing. Either the Lord will show me that this was the right path, or in my doing the next thing, He would guide me to the path that was the excellent one.

Being the provider of my home, is the one thing that really unnerves me, that gives me the greatest concern. I got quite use to being taken care of. My stomach goes cold whenever I think about working, about having a career. But I needn't be fretful, I have a future and a hope. The Lord has thoughts of peace for me. I would be foolish not to cling to that.

Hands and Arms

I had a dream last night. Dale was in it. We were prisoners in a Russian prison, and we were unable to speak to each other. We were close, but not close enough to touch. I wanted to run to him and have him hold me. I miss being held. I woke feeling sad and lonely. Why couldn't it have been a dream with joy and fun, and running barefoot through a meadow with autumn leaves falling all around us. Granted, Dale wouldn't have run barefoot through a meadow, leaves or not. He was definitely a shoe man. It was a weird dream, disjointed and vague. That's how I really felt, disjointed. I didn't like it. I just wanted to be held.

When I got dressed I put on a sweater of Dale's. It still smells of his cologne. I buried my face in the sweater, breathing in, slowly. 'Why couldn't we at least hugged in the dream? Why couldn't I have at least held his hand.

When Dale and I would hug, he would always say, 'we fit just right'. We did. He was just enough taller than me, that when we hugged I fit perfectly under his arms. I could wrap my arms around his strong, muscular back, feeling the definition of each muscle, knowing it was because of hours, years of exercising. His firm, rounded shoulders, metal like biceps, embraced me in gentle strength. I miss that. A lot.

Wearing his sweater today, didn't make me miss him more, I guess it should have. Somehow, it gave me a strength, a confidence to do what needed to be done, like balance the checkbook and make a major financial decision, both something I willing would have left in his hands. His hands.

Dale had great hands. They too were strong from years of working out. Years of karate, weight lifting, push ups, all contributed to his amazing hands. His hands were wide, and when we held hands I could comfortably only hold 3 of his fingers in my hand. His hands engulfed mine in a way that was always giving me a sense of protection. I knew he would always take care of me.

I don't know how things will be in heaven. Will we really wander around talking to all the saints like we always say we will? I don't know. I think we will so be in awe of our Savior, we won't be concerned with anyone else. Yet, if we will be familiar with those in heaven who have preceded us, I hope I will have a few hundred years just so that I can be held by Dale, to walk those streets of gold holding his hand. Maybe then I can get him to run barefoot though a meadow.

Echos

Saturday evening, after going to a missions dinner, I stayed the night with a long time family friend, who shall from here on out be called, Gem, as she is. I have known Gem and her family since I was 11. Her daughter and I were good friends in Jr and Sr high. Our families have shared holidays, weddings, a myriad of youth outings and youth choir concerts, tears and joys.

11 months before Dale passed away her hubby, Ghost Rider (his handle as a truck driver) passed away. Both our guys had cancer, and though different types, endured some of the same things, and now Gem and I share a common grief. Saturday was the first I had seen her since Ghost Riders memorial.

Walking into Gem's home is like coming home in many ways. She has lived in the same house since I have known her. I have moved an average of every 2 years since I was born. Gem's home has been a constant in my life. I still know her phone number and address by heart. Stepping through the door there was a sense of belonging, of comfort, of feeling as though things would be alright. It felt good.

I got to her home late in the evening, but I had a cup of tea and we went into the family room, which hasn't changed in years, each curled up, she in her chair, me on the couch. Right off the bat she asked, ' so how are you doing?'. I knew what she was asking. She wanted to hear my heart. She wanted to know the hurts and joys of my journey of grieving. Knowing she knew it all herself, I opened my mouth and let it all roll out.

It was so good to speak to one who knew, who understood. It was good to hear her share her heart, and to be able to respond with, 'you too?', 'I know, I feel the same way.' 'The Lord gave me that verse too.' We heard echos of our own thoughts and emotions in each others words. What healing, what conformation to our hearts. I was grateful to know I really wasn't going crazy.

We stayed up till the wee hours of the morning, talking, crying, laughing, and eating ice cream. We finally went to bed around 3am, only to get up four hours later to coffee and scones. We talked, shared, read things we had written, cried and laughed some more. Sometimes it was hard to hear the pain, to re-live it again, yet, in some way it seemed necessary as though it was deemed to be, to help in the healing.

As I started back home, I cried, thanking the Lord for the time with Gem. I didn't feel the lack of sleep, I felt refreshed. I felt as though I was ready for the next leg of the journey. Something has taken place in my heart, still not sure what, but it was needed.

That night, as I crawled under my flannel sheets, beneath my glowing ceiling of stars, I again thanked the Lord for that time with Gem. Tomorrow would be a new day, a new section of the pathway, again trodden, and ready for me. I would be ready for as well.

He is enough

That seems to have been the theme for today. While at ladies bible study, that statement was made by the teacher. We are in the book of Hebrews and she as speaking of Christ's sacrifice being 'once for all', it is a done deal, the old testament covenant has been fulfilled. 'He is enough'. Later, I heard two songs on the radio coming home from July and Jean Luc's tonight, both speaking of how Christ is all I need.

I am learning that truth in a new way these days. I am learning that He truly is sufficient. He meets my every need. He never leaves me, or forsakes me. He gives grace and mercy. He floods me with forgiveness, and remembers my sins no more. These aren't new truths, I have understood them, believed them, for a long time. It's different now. Now they are mine.

Whether in a room full of people or alone, He is enough.
Whether with a heart of joy, or sorrow, He is enough.
Whether with concern, or need fulfilled, He is enough.

I am my Beloved and He is mine. I can't escape it. I don't want to. His footsteps are sure, anchored, steadfast, all along the pathway. I need only believe that each one is enough for that moment, and keep my eye fixed and focused on Him. He is more than enough.

A Soft Day

I needed to clean the gutters today. I needed to clean the gutters weeks ago, before the rain started. But, I didn't, so today was the day. Autumn left today to fly to CA to visit friends, so where as it is better to have two people do gutters, one to hold the ladder while the other ascends the contraption, I ventured out on my own.

It has been a 'soft day' today. That's what the Brits call a nice gentle rain. By the time I got outside, it was just misting. It was rather warm to boot which was nice as well. I got the ladder and hose and climbed up and started the task at hand. It really didn't take to long, and it was kind of fun doing it. I even got to climb up on the carport roof. When I was standing on the roof, I looked around. A much different vantage point up there. Looking down on bushes of changing color was quite a sight, they were so full and bushy, bright and vivid color. It was quiet save the occasional song of a bird. I should have made tea and enjoyed the rooftop experience. Dale and I did that once when we lived in the mountains and had to shovel the roof laden with snow.

We got quite a bit of snow there and a couple times during the winter we would find ourselves on the roof shovelling away. It always looked so beautiful from on top of the house. The trees with their heavy snow bows, an assortment of snowmen and a trail of footprints leading to the woods. While Dale finished the task, I climbed down to make the tea. I put it in a thermos, grabs some mugs and called the girls. We climbed up and sat on the roof top, drinking the steaming tea and just visited, while our noses ran. It was lovely.

Today felt like that. A cozy day, a task done and for me the reward of cocoa, a fire in the stove, candles lit and Pollyanna to watch. And now there is the gift of rolling thunder overhead. It has been a good day.

Incognito

I went to a Ladies Bible study today, alone. Some may say, big deal. It was for me. It is really hard to do things alone now. For 27 1/2 years I always had someone to do things with. No, Dale never went to ladies bible study with me, I rarely went golfing with him. But it is different. It is hard to explain. I guess it is one of those things that only people who have lost a spouse gets.

I was emailing with a friend today, who gets it. She lost her husband too. This was our exchange.

Hi sweet thing, So you ventured out to Bible Study? Good for you. I've yet to make that leap - and it still IS a 'leap'. I'm cheering you on, however. I pray for you every day, Jules. I would say I'm amazed at what you've accomplished since Dale left town but I am only constantly amazed at God's GRACE. Phenomenal! I know.

(Me)
These 'leaps' are tough things. I have yet to go out to eat by myself. I know that with my circumstance of having to provide for Autumn and I, that I will be leaping a lot. I don't like being around people. I don't like having to always give my 'story'. Usually people don't know how to respond and the conversation seems to end abruptly. I feel at times I should wear a sign that says 'leper' on it. People are funny. I have been encouraged to go to a grief group, don't want the weepy folk either. I do that on my own just fine.

Another friend who lost his wife once told me he doesn't even like going out to eat with his kids because he feels like people see him only as a weekend dad. I didn't get it till Autumn and I started the daunting task of looking for a church. No one knew us. We showed up just the two of us. My thought was people must think I am divorced, or that I had an unbelieving husband. It was awful, still is. I find myself, when speaking to people, that I play with my wedding ring, or purposely lift my hand to scratch my face in hopes that they will see the ring. I feel so disjointed. Who am I? Who do I belong to? Where is my place?

I don't think the masses know what to do with a widow, especially a young one. We no longer have a society as in bible times, where a widow was one to take care of. I am not asking for help, but the mentality is different. There was a time in our history where widows and orphans were a scourge and a burden. Now with so many single mom's, it just is no different. We all seem to blend into the same scenery. As I stated in the above email, when I tell some one that my husband has passed away, they get fidgety and say they are sorry, and either change the subject or as it happened today, the lady I was speaking to, just walked away.

I do feel sometimes as if I should wear a sign that says, 'leper'. It would save me having to explain my plight, and save others from feeling awkward. I could wear black taffeta, or wear a widows bonnet. Perhaps I should just hand out brochures with all the information on it for them to read at their leisure, it would make a good fire starter.

Who am I? All I know is that I am a sinner saved by grace, a pilgrim passing through.

Wrestling like Jacob

That's what I did Thursday night. Wednesday at the long care facility was horrible. We students were being assigned a new resident. This would make 3. I was not looking forward to one more. But I was okay with it for now as Wednesday, I was to help with showers, all day. At least it would be a change, though I wasn't looking forward to seeing wrinkly old bodies for hours on end. When I got there I found out there would be no showers that day as a CNA had call in sick and the Aid that was to do showers would now take the absent Aid's run. I was handed a paper with info on my new resident. Oi! When I got to the first room, one of my ladies was already up and dressed thanks to an Aid who favors her. My new lady also had been gotten up as that Aid didn't know she was to be mine. So, I got up my last lady, who is the easiest of the three and got her down to the nurses station for her meds. That was the last of the ease for the day.

One of the students was sent home as she came to class sick. We would be short in the dining hall. I had to assist 2 residents with breakfast. Neither of the men can feed themselves, so I sat between them taking turns giving them bites. After breakfast I got my ladies back to their room. One goes back to bed after breakfast. She is 103, so I reckon she can if she wants too. After that there was a rash of how shall I say it, a lot of residents with lower digestive difficulties. I spent the rest of the day cleaning up bottoms and making beds. The call lights went out so we had to give hand bells to all the residents. What a noise that was! We had to check rooms every 15 minutes, we were running around with our tails on fire! The staff were getting cranky and it rolled down hill to we students. Two of us almost walked at lunch. I sat in car to eat lunch and cried. The other gal, 19, fell apart on the floor. We both stayed the day, cleaning up more residents.

On the way home, like most days I cried. I hated being on the floor. This was more than I bargained for. When I got home I took a long, hot shower. I wanted to wash off all the icky germs as I didn't want to catch whatever was going around. The next morning I got up, got dressed, ate my breakfast and shortly after, got sick. I called my instructor. She said another student also called in sick. I went back to bed till 11am. I lay in bed all day with an icky stomach. I started to feel better at bed time but couldn't sleep.

I tossed and turned. Every time I thought about going to training, my stomach went cold and started to hurt. I started to pray, and cry, again. I didn't want to go back. I hated it. I had no heart for it. I don't know how long I wrestled with all this, I stopped looking at the clock.

I finally asked the Lord, if it was not a moral or spiritual issue, could I please stop going. I asked for wisdom and direction, for His help and blessing. I finally had an answer, and I was at peace.

The next morning, I call my instructor. I told her how I was feeling and that I had decided to come out of the program. She was so understanding, an answer to prayer. She said it isn't for everyone, and she wished me well in whatever I would do. I hung up. I felt such a rush of relief. I was done, and I was glad.

My hip was not out of joint, like Jacob's, though the small of my back was sore, more I am sure from lifting people for 3 days. I had received my blessing and I was grateful. I don't know what is next. But I learned to be more patient, to trust harder, to not panic and think that just because I see an opportunity, doesn't mean it if for me.

My God is faithful to deliver. He is merciful and long suffering. My face is on the ground. I will be able to see His footprints better from here.

Dignity and Humility

The other day I was talking with June and told her how I paid to have the oil changed in my car. How it was to only cost so much and ended up costing me a lot more. She said I should have asked Superman to do it. I tried to explain how difficult it is for me to ask the men folk in the family for help, as it is very humbling, and because I don't want to become a pathetic widow who expects others to do for me. I don't want family getting caller ID on their phones so as to avoid my calls.

I don't know why it is so hard for me to ask for help. I have been so use to Dale always doing those things, that it seems wrong in a way to have some other man do it. Dale taught me a lot of things. Whenever we had a project around the house, he often had me help him, other tasks he just did, because that's what husbands do. But there are some things that I can't do, that require a man. That's why Superman has been enclosing part of my carport to make a shed for storage for me. I don't know how frame walls. I needed his help. Yet, there are other things I could use a mans help with, but it is just so hard to ask. I don't like asking. I don't want to be a burden. I'd like to be able to do it myself, yet that isn't always the way it can be.

This week I started working the floor at the Long Care facility where I have been training. It didn't take long for me to feel for these people who can't do for themselves. They are dependent for so many things, some for all their care. There are those who have to have someone move them from their bed to the wheelchair. I feed a man everyday for two of his meals. I have to take two residents to the restroom and tend to their personal hygiene as they can't. Today one of my ladies had a couple of accidents, very unpleasant ones. She is totally dependent on me and others. She is also very modest. As I and another aid were cleaning her up, she was in tears as to the indignity of it all. I kept apologizing to her to try to ease her tears. I later told the aid who helped I hoped I would never find myself in that position.

I don't know what the moral to my story is except that, sometimes we need others to help us,
because we just can't do it on our own. That is why God gave to us people to love and care for us. I guess we have to learn to ask for that help, even if it humbles us. When that help is rendered, I hope that we will do it with all the dignity we can muster for the sake of the other person.

Dignity. A word I have learned in a new and humbling way.

Kind prosperity

A muddled brain, that's what I had last night as I studied for my final test, over all the book work of the past two weeks. 9 chapters, long chapters, countless hand-outs, endless abbreviations, not to mention all the notes. After 2 hours I couldn't think anymore. I watched a bit of a movie and went to bed, going over all the pulse points. Carotid, Apical, Brachial, Radial, Femoral, Poptieal, Pedal. Guess what, I woke up saying the same thing.

The past two weeks I have been praying that the Lord would help me. Just help me get through this. If He wanted me to be here He would need to help me remember all these things. I have a horrible memory. I had been so frustrated this week with everything. I cried going to class and coming home. I hate stress, a lot. I am a tactile learner. I don't like book studying. I was not looking forward to today. I told June last night before bed that if I didn't pass the test, I was going to drop out of the class.

I got up this morning with cold hands and a cold stomach. I was anxious and nervous to say the least, and you guessed it, I cried going to class. I so wanted to stay home and play with Wee Man, as they had stayed overnight so Superman could continue to work on building the shed for me.

I was the second one in class, the other gal who was there was already studying her notes. I just sat down and prayed. Class started and the instructor handed out the test. I hate tests. I took a deep breathe and said, 'Okay, Lord, please help me.' After finishing it, I looked over the test again and changed one answer. I turned it over and waited. When everyone was finished, we corrected them. I was floored with my results, I hadn't missed one! I think the Lord made it cleared I wouldn't be quitting the class. I was so overjoyed. What relief! All I could say was, 'Thank you Lord.'

God does hear my prayers. I never really doubted it, but it is always nice to see the hard evidence. So often through the Psalms we read phrases like, 'this poor man cried', and 'hear my cry oh Lord'... In the book of John it says, 'If you abide in Me, and My words abide in you, ask what you will and it shall be done unto you.' I am so grateful for my early morning time with the Lord, eating of His word, taking it in, thinking on it. It makes such a difference.

Deut 29- "And I led you forty years (48 in my case) in the wilderness; your clothes have not worn out on you, and your sandal has not worn out on your foot...in order that you might know that I am the Lord your God...so keep the words of this covenant to do them, that you may prosper in all that you do." Today, through God's grace, mercy and kindness, today I prospered.