Christmas threads

SONY DSC“Ma’am, may I ask you a question?”  The persistent young lady clutching a tube of sea salt, something or other, actually matched my steps for a few seconds as I hurried past the mid-mall vendor.  After my “no thank you” didn’t faze her tenacity, I tried “No thank, you I’m not interested” in a more serious tone.  When that also failed to weaken her resolve, I decided to just pick up my pace and ignore her.  She was intent on making a sale but I was determined to escape.

Moments later, I settled into a seat with my lunch to take a break and re-group.  I found myself feeling angry.  Why should my leisurely trip to the mall be interrupted by an incident that left me feeling like I’d done something wrong?  I don’t like to use my firm tone of voice and I certainly don’t like to ignore people.  My day begins with a prayer to show love to others, not return rudeness.

Determined not to lose my joy, I let it go, adamant in my desire to shine a little brighter for the remainder of my day.

I begin to recall memories of Christmas shopping in this very mall with my mom, my husband, my mother in law, my girls and many friends.  Some of them are no longer here, but I can meander through the memories and find the moments and share them again.

The heart of Christmas for me lies in my Christian roots; the reality of the gift given to the entire world on that Christmas long ago.  When we celebrate Christmas, it’s based on that love and although December can be hurried and harried, that is where the focus must remain.

As I began to look around a few stops later, I noticed the exuberant face of a little boy as he carefully selected ornaments with his mother.  She spoke softly to him, love and tenderness in her voice.  They were both young and creating “moments” together to be cherished for years to come.

I rounded the aisle and saw what appeared to be a family, according to their similarities in look.  There was an elderly woman in a wheelchair, being pushed by a younger woman, who could have been her daughter.  I paused to let them pass and they smiled in thanks.  Directly in pursuit of them was a younger woman, who was very noticeably pregnant.  I wondered if I was perhaps looking at four generations (one still in the oven).  They made me smile as they laughed and joked about who was “bringing up the rear”, obviously enjoying each other immensely.

We have to remember during all the hustle and bustle of the season to cherish one another and to savor moments and make memories.  Every moment, every event, be it large or small is like a thread, which when woven together with love, create a beautiful garment of memories, that can be thrown around our shoulders to embrace and comfort us time and time again.

And that reminds me of the comforting love of the Father – Have a blessed day and cherish those moments!

Grateful always

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The sun will soon rise, on this Thanksgiving Day

I’m up with my coffee, to read and to pray

The oven is buzzing, time to take out the yams

Next on my list, replace them with the ham

Ham is now cooking, time to start fudge

On Mom’s recipe card, an old chocolate smudge

This makes me smile and happy memories recall

Family cooking, playing, laughing and having a ball

The fudge turns out nicely, you never can tell

About half the time, my fudge is a fail

My phone begins ringing, my girls on the line

They will be missed this year, those daughters of mine

Topping fudge with pecans and peeking through oven door

My fuzzy socks dancing on my kitchen floor

Dancing with joy, Macy’s parade on t.v.

For all this and more, I am thankful you see

Green bean casserole is next and then my part is done

Then, it’s off to my sisters for more family and fun

This day a reminder to show gratitude always

Every day of the year, not just on Thanksgiving day

Have a blessed and happy Thanksgiving

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A year of blogging

what lies behind you

Happy Anniversary to me!  Today is November 21, 2013 and it was exactly one year ago today on an evening much like this one after church that I started my blog.  It read:

I’ve been contemplating starting a blog for a very long time.  It’s been easy to put it off because I lead a busy life, but today I decided it’s now or never.  Procrastination isn’t going to win the battle this time.  The hardest part is deciding the “one” thing I’m most interested in, or what genre my blogging will represent.  I can’t do that.  So, I decided that this will be a mixture of interests, a conglomeration if you will.

Since this is my first ever entry, I will strive to keep it short and sweet and then let my eldest daughter know it’s done, so I can quickly obtain my first follower.

Something is changing and it isn’t just the weather.  My interests are and somewhat dramatically at that!  Whereas I used to loathe all things crafty, I found myself in Michael’s on Saturday searching for felt, buttons and ric rac.  My mantra was always, “Why make it when you can buy it?”  But now, laid out on my dining table in all it’s glory are the materials for my newest project; making these cute little felt owl ornaments I found on Pinterest.

Stroll a few feet further and you will find the kitchen.  This used to be a place I barely tolerated.  The greatest thing about it was that it housed my coffeepot and that of course is essential.  Now, I have recipes galore, new ingredients in my pantry that I’ve only just learned existed and I have a desire for new cookware, bake-ware and am seriously contemplating buying one of those expensive mixers.

My hope is that this journey deep into the heart of middle age (or am I already there?) will prove enlightening at the very least.  Hope you will join me!

My hope was to bring encouragement, smiles and yes, even the occasional tear to the eyes of my followers.  You see, if I could accomplish this, it would prove to me that my writing could move people.

My eldest daughter has been brutally honest with me.  If a post was lacking in emotion, content, creativity or purpose, I have been able to count on her to tell me.  Thank you Ashley!

I’ve met new friends and gained much insight from fellow bloggers.  They have been very helpful and willing to share knowledge of writing, technology or whatever assistance I needed.

For those of you who read or share my posts, visit my facebook page regularly and shower me with input and encouragement, I am sincerely thankful.

I look forward to continuing on this journey and hopefully make strides in my goal to write that book and be published!

Thank you and God Bless!

Lisa

An empty suitcase

Empty Suitcase (I) (Lomo)

Empty Suitcase (I) (Lomo) (Photo credit: roeyahram)

As I try to think of anything I can possibly do to avoid packing, I find myself here; sitting cross-legged in my comfortable chair with my notebook and pen poised and ready.  I might as well jot down my thoughts.

I get loopy in the 24 hours before I travel.  Call it travel anxiety I guess, although I’m not afraid to fly.  My mind just will not focus and I flit around from task to task getting very little accomplished.  I know that I will go to bed tonight with nothing done except perhaps some jeans thrown in the suitcase, or that book I must have on the plane stuffed into my purse.

In the morning, I will calculate and re-calculate how many more hours until I have to leave for the airport and when the count is down to around two, I will go into beast mode and get everything done with time to spare.  I have always done this.  The length of the trip, where I am going or who I am going with doesn’t seem to matter.

Since I am not a procrastinator normally, this odd behavior on my part puzzles me.   The only explanation I can come up with is that somewhere deep down inside, maybe I wonder if I will really end up going so I wait until the last minute.  That doesn’t feel like the answer, but what else could it be?

My family doesn’t understand me and I have one aunt in particular who starts preparing for a trip sometimes weeks in advance.

If you have any ideas, please feel free to share.  Why would a normally focused, planner-type individual put themselves through this?

Excuse me, while I go do anything but prepare for my journey.

Peeling trees

Bananas on a banana tree. Personnal photo, fre...

Bananas on a banana tree. Personnal photo, free licence (see below). (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

My younger brother and sister bounded into the yellow house, excitement on their faces, along with dirt from their long day at play.   My sister, with the bulk of her auburn curls trapped in pigtails fastened with yarn and sporting a splash of cinnamon freckles across her nose, was the first to speak.  “Oh, Granny, guess what we did for Poppy?  He is going to be so happy!”  My brother was standing right beside my sister, which is where you often found him.  He was smiling too, a smile full of a sense of pride and accomplishment for his part in this good deed.  They both had some kind of juice and goo that smelled like banana all over them, enough where if we had been at home, mom would have escorted them quickly to the bathtub.  Not Granny though; that kind of thing didn’t faze her.

Granny smiled that kind of smile that grandmothers smile and animatedly asked, “Well sugar, what did you do?”  She had that way of speaking to you that always made you feel good; never a glimmer of frustration or impatience to be heard.  Her voice and tone felt like a warm hug.

“We peeled Poppy’s banana trees!  Granny we stripped every piece of the brown off and made them all nice and pretty!”

Now, before I go any farther, let me say that Poppy loved to garden and he loved his banana trees.  Looking back, I think working in the soil was relaxing for him after his long day as a fishing guide.  He liked to see the fruits of his labor and share them and he was very particular in the way the way he attended his plants.

The look on Granny’s face after their announcement went from perfectly peaceful to a bit concerned. I, being a little older and wiser knew the look and the once uneventful day looked suddenly as if it promised some excitement. She took their dirty little, banana gooey hands as they led her outside to survey the beauty of the project. I trailed along behind them anxious to inspect the ruins, and sadly, but honestly probably enjoying the possibility of the impending drama a little too much.

The trees were peeled alright, there was barely anything left.  Now, granted you are supposed to peel off the dead yellow leaves, which in their defense, they had probably watched Poppy do.

Granny elected not to share with them at that time, the trouble they were in.  Knowing her, I bet she wanted them to enjoy their excitement for as long as possible, while she prayed and figured out how to calm the storm she knew to be looming on the horizon.

I knew two things; one being that Pop was not going to be happy and two being that granny didn’t let anyone and I mean anyone mess with her grandbabies.  So, now to sit back and watch and wait for the Dixie to dock, and Pop to head home, all of which we could see from Granny’s front yard.

Pop got home and I waited.  They hurried up to him excitedly begging him to “Come look what we did for you!”  Poppy would make this snorting sound when he didn’t really want to participate in something, but when it came to his grandkids, he would usually relent anyway and this time wasn’t any different.

But when he saw his precious trees, he quickly lost his temper.  This was before Poppy had a sanctified vocabulary, so we heard some choice words.  He then described what was going to happen to their little derrieres.  Their joyful little faces quickly turned into blubbering, dirty little, banana goo messes and we all ran as fast as our little feet would carry us into the house and they jumped straight into Granny’s lap.  By this time, I was no longer looking forward to any action; I had softened and started to feel sorry for them, as I watched tears dampen their dirty little cheeks.

As Poppy angrily lamented what he thought would be the end of his poor trees and advised Granny as to whose hides were getting tanned, Granny got that wet mother hen look in her eye.  She made it a point to call them “the babies” and reminded him they were only trying to help.   She said very matter-of-factly that no one would be getting spankings on her watch.  Poppy snorted and shuffled back outside and that was the end of that.  I could have sworn I heard Granny giggle.

Before the end of the night, Granny had calmed Poppy and they were both chuckling about the peeled trees.  To this day, we still mention it with a smile; one of those things that for a few moments completely stole our peace and filled us with fear turned into one of those funny moments our family has laughed about for years.

Thankfulness in forward motion

cookies

cookies

On this third day of November, I have already noticed all of the “what I’m thankful for” posts on Facebook.  I surmise that because November is the month of Thanksgiving, we are reminded of all the things that we sometimes take for granted.  It’s encouraging and uplifting to see so many people thoughtfully posting their thanks throughout the month of November.

We are a blessed nation, even in the midst of some of our circumstances.  However, I want to encourage all of you, my friends, that as we are thankful, as we express our gratefulness we would be mindful that this is a difficult month for many.  As the holidays approach, there are those without family, those who are estranged from their families and those who aren’t feeling too particularly thankful at this time in their life.

I pray that we make it our business to search out, to find out who these people are in our neighborhoods. My hope is that as part of the demonstration of our thankfulness, we would reach out and somehow provide that feeling of home and comfort to the aged, the lonely and the downcast.

Many of us will bake and decorate, and our homes will smell of cinnamon and spices; we will surround ourselves with family and friends and feel that “thankful” spirit for our fellowship.  Let’s spread it around; let’s be mindful of those less fortunate.

We can do this by our prayers and by giving, but it’s also in the simple knock on the door of a shut-in or a hot apple pie delivered to someone who might not be able to see well enough to do all the baking they once enjoyed.

Please feel free to share what your plans are to give back or things that you and your family have done in years past to share the love.

If we all just reach one, there would be hundreds of smiles that might not be possible otherwise.

Love, Prayers and Happy November!

Thinking and thanking

spaghetti-squash-with-parmesan-cheese

spaghetti-squash-with-parmesan-cheese (Photo credit: famfriendsfood)

The smell of bacon permeates my kitchen as it pops and splatters noisily in the pan.  Tonight is one of those “force yourself to put one foot in front of the other; just hurry up and get it all done so you can relax” kind of nights  Tonight I find myself lamenting the fact that I pulled out new recipes to try, but stubborn enough to try them anyway.  My back is achy because my job in front of a computer all day was a tense one and I can’t wait to hop in a warm shower.  At least there is an extra piece of bacon I can munch on as I continue cooking.

Today has been the kind of day where I had to choose to make a conscious effort to see the positive, to choose happy.  Throughout the day I reminded myself, “this too shall pass” and “you are blessed to have a job”.  As time rolled around for dinner preparation, “I am thankful I have food to cook”.

By the time I pulled the spaghetti squash out of the oven and started removing the tender threads, my mood was already elevating.   I don’t know what it was; the smell of the yummy food, the call from my husband (because once again our wedding song is playing on the radio and he likes to play it for me), the message from a friend, or a combination of it all.  I just know I stopped and remembered to be grateful.  Sometimes you just have to turn off the distractions and take a few moments to realize what you already know.

The truth washes over me afresh, that there are so many people out there who would see one of my “bad days” as one of their “very good” days.  The truth stings as I begin to think about those people and some of their situations.

Something to think about as you reflect on your Monday.

Not my usual Friday

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Today dawned cool and quiet (well cool for SW FL) and after coffee, prayer and devotions, I was ready for whatever came my way.

My eldest called and we chatted about her family’s healthy eating and her participation in the Spartan Race tomorrow.  She is one of those Crossfit crazed people, but whatever keeps her motivated sounds good to me.  I mention this because later it would inspire me to dig deep.

I blogged a few days ago in “Painting in Circles”, about helping out my husband with his new venture into stone crabbing.  Today he needed help loading several hundred crap traps onto a trailer, hauling them to the local fish house where he will sell his crabs and unloading them once there.  They would be “poured” today with cement. (to help them sink)

Of course I offered to help and he gladly accepted since most of his friends were working or otherwise engaged today.  Loading the first 200 or so was easy – I loaded onto the trailer while he stacked them.  We drove slowly over to the unloading site and I began unloading as he prepared the rows and lined them up properly.  I was easily lifting three at a time and stacking away, pretending at times that I was doing crossfit; bending at the knees, careful not to overextend, staying hydrated.

Before I knew it, we were getting back into the truck to come and get another load.  My nephew who was helping us, would stay there and continue lining up the traps in neat rows, readying them for the concrete.  I was hot and my elbow (the one with a tad of tendonitis was stinging), but all in all, I wasn’t much worse for wear.  We loaded another 220 quickly and went back to unload.  I’m not going to lie, I was getting tired of playing crossfit by now in the now 90 degree heat and began working harder and faster to finish the now grueling task.

We got that done and headed back for the remaining 90 or so which we loaded right away.  “Babe, are you coming back over there with me”, he asked.  “Well, I really need to get some laundry done”, I replied, doing my best to look tired and pitiful.  He thanked me for the help, kissed me and rushed off to finish the job.

The ice cold air greeted me like a long lost friend as I opened the front door.  My shower felt like a blessing from heaven and last nights left-overs satisfied my hunger and made me want to go to take a nap.  Since I know what I put my body through today, I went ahead and took a pre-“onset of pain” Advil.  It’s not that I don’t work out, walk and try to be healthy, but I used arm muscles today that I haven’t used since I carried a baby around.

After a glass of refreshing iced tea, I got a second wind and proceeded to finish a little wreath project I started the other day.  Now, I am feeling accomplished and awash with that good tired, the kind where everything aches a little but it’s okay because you got stuff done.

With all that said, I will leave you with a picture of my wreath and I welcome any comments good or bad.  For those of you who have followed me for a while, you know I don’t always have the best of luck with crafty things.  You won’t hurt my feelings if you provide some corrective criticism for my next one.  Good night and sweet dreams.  I will be probably be dreaming about lifting something.

Owl fall wreath

Owl fall wreath

Rollin’ on back to Funky town

Paul Bunyan Land/This Old Farm Brainerd, Minnesota

I could smell the leather and feel the wheels beneath my feet as I looked at the picture my aunt posted the other day.  It portrayed several rows of roller skates, all lined up ready for rental; the old brown ones with orange wheels.

It took me back to a time in my life when I was precariously perched at the beginning of my teenage years, ready to dive in and begin the years that often felt like a roller coaster as my body and mind sped towards adulthood.

Often during this time of my life, my sister and I would pack up an overnight bag and head to my aunt’s house on Friday after school to begin a weekend of fun with our young, beautiful, hip aunt and her two daughters.  Selfishly, I was thankful that my uncle spent a lot of time hunting.  Therefore many times we had them all to ourselves.  The weekend was usually spent at the movies, beach, mall and my favorite; the skating rink.

We would make a big deal out of getting ready to “go out” Friday night.  I’m not sure if my aunt knew this or if this post will give me away, but I used to “borrow” from her makeup and there was a drawer which housed a particular hand cream that I know we weren’t supposed to use.  I think it was called “pretty feet and hands”.  It was an amazing thing to me at the time; it claimed to remove all the dead skin cells and when you applied and rubbed hands together, you did indeed get balls of something that resembled dead skin, so maybe it was.  I just know I used way too much of it and always felt guilty about it.  Obviously not bad enough to tell on myself or stop, but in my defense I was young and the forbidden was attractive.

After we primped and studied ourselves in the mirror, we were off to Skate land.  We went so often that we all had our own skates so we got in and were ready to roll pretty quickly! We raced, slow skated, ate soft pretzels with mustard and flirted (well, maybe I was the only one who did that).  We usually stayed until closing and I don’t ever remember wanting to leave.

The highlight of the afternoon or night session for me was always the “couples skate” (provided someone asked me to skate), but I loved the entire experience.  I remember feeling cool as I skated backwards to “Funky town” or “Le Freak” in my black “hockey boots”, or holding hands as I circled the rink with someone to “Reunited”, or speed skating to “Another One Bites the Dust”.

Ahh, such wonderful memories and I had the plus of always having my cool aunt right there for any advice regarding hair, makeup and boys.

We would go home, tired but happy and snack on Entenmann’s donuts; the kind with the crumbly stuff on top, with nary a thought about our waistlines.  We laughed and talked and made our plans for the next day, then drug out extra blankets and pillows so we girls could all sleep on the living room floor together.

My sister had the bright idea the other day to go skating.  I told her I didn’t think I should risk the broken bones after all these years.  Besides, the rentals are always wobbly; I know this because I tried them a few times after my skating phase had passed and I sold mine.

Now, I’m wondering if I’m just afraid it wouldn’t be the same; or if maybe I like those memories as they are and would rather keep them tucked away unchanged and unbeaten by new skating memories.

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