Finding What I Wasn't Looking For..............

Sorry it's been so long, for the few of you who follow this blog.  It's been quite a year, and I will probably blog about it in the future, but not today. 

Today we made a mad dash to the garage to look for Christmas tins. I've been busier than I normally like to be for a while now, and haven't done much in the way of Christmas other than buying and throwing stuff in Wal Mart bags  wrapping presents.  Oh, and I put up the wreath.  That's it.  That's been my preparation.  I kind of miss putting up the ornaments, but I just got them out and looked at them last weekend and was satisfied.  We don't have room for a tree other than the little one with lights that I did not bring in from the garage today.  I've been sick.  And tired.  Sick and tired, and  that it is no doubt part of why what happened next hit me so hard.

During the search, My Youngest Baby found his Christmas stocking.  Joy registered on his face followed immediately by concern if not fear when he realized it was dirty.  He turned to me and held it out, asking if it would be all right with fear and hesitancy in his eyes.  I told him that it would, and that I would wash it.  He seemed relieved that it would be all right, and then pressed me as to whether or not I was going to hang up their stockings this year.  These stockings were knitted by my children's great-great aunt Ada and are the only stockings they have ever hung up.  There it was, a bit bedraggled but waiting for us.  It knew we would come.  We have never failed it, not one single time.

I said "Of course I am!" and managed not to cry until I got to the privacy of my bathroom and there I had my own little grieving session. 

This is the twin's last year at home, as far as I know.  They are 18, and will graduate in 5 short months and go out into the world and have wonderful lives, which is all very well and good.  I want them to!  I swear!!  

But.

I will be lucky to ever have them at home again, like it used to be.......

I know this because this is not my first rodeo.  I know this because the last year and a half has been defined by change and upheaval and wondering what the future holds.  I know this because getting my four children together at the same time has already become a pretty nice trick.  I know this because to live is to change, those are pretty much the rules of the game.

What I did not know was how much it meant to him (my last, the one that needed the most for the longest, the one who has bloomed into a young man at ease with himself) that his stocking was put up.  Still, like it used to be.  Like it always has been.  On the outside he looks like a man, but inside my little boy still exists, peeking out at me on occasion.  How I miss that child.

If you live long enough, and I'm sorry to be the one to tell you this, you will realize that eventually Christmas becomes a crap shoot, emotionally speaking.  It can be as bitter as it is sweet.  Lots of your memories will be of people who you love just as much, but have already passed, and the ache can be borne, must be borne, but the ache is added to.  Almost every year, it gets added to.  Another thing that has become clear to me in this last year or so is that I have reached the age where I am going to keep losing people.  It inevitably happens, and don't we all know this?  In our minds?  Yes, of course!  But there will come a day, eventually, when it dawns on you that you need to get used to it.  There is not even an "if you can" attached to that thought.  It's kind of brutal, but fear not, you will be pretty numb and it won't hurt that much.  You will be "resolute".

               res·o·lute

                            ˈrezəˌlo͞ot/

                                  adjective

1.                                   admirably purposeful, determined, and unwavering.

Okay, your goal will be to be "resolute".  Good luck.  It's a tricky little dance but the steps will come to you when you need them the most.  May you dance right through it.  

My thoughts of late have been heavily filled with memories of my children when they were little.  Crystal clear in my mind, right down to how their necks smelled like........ and how they felt against my chest as I held them close to me and kissed them there......... what they looked like asleep............... and funny things they said.  I guess it's my way of soaking in this last year before the nest is empty.  I don't know who I would be without them, and I needed this reminder.  On my "cry-y" days, as I call them, I despair that the mother they remember is the one who "nagged" them about their room, or a job, and they never remember, or can even know how much I loved them, sacrificed everything, cleaned and nursed and coached and sometimes scared other people to death in defense of them.  Basically I have felt like I've been left alone with my memories, but only on the "cry-y days".  Those days are not my favorite, but they come and they must be dealt with.  I deal with them in the bathroom, and just say I'm tired when they notice my eyes.  This song sums it up perfectly.  

I thought my kids were too old for Christmas, one of the worst things I think I've ever done as a mother.  Don't I know the most important thing you can do in the world is NOT to change?  Yes!  I know this!  (One of the worst things about being a mother is when the Voice In Your Head lectures you and you have no good excuse, so instead of trying to defend your worthless self, you just vow to do better in the future.  But you know the kids will always remember the time you DIDN'T!!   The struggle is REAL!)

The last year there have been things I was forced to change, but nothing that really bothered me.  I just walked on.  Some of the best advice I ever got in life was not actually advice about life, it was about golf.  It applies both places equally well, and that advice was this:  Advance the ball.  Do not stand there, anxiously plotting on how to hit that ball a mile (is that a long way for golf?  I don't even know.) and make sure it rolls within 3 feet of a little hole.  Just step up there, breathe through it and advance the damn ball.  One stroke at a time.  It's not really that big of a deal.

So today, instead of filling the Christmas tins we were looking for with cookies and candies,  as I had planned, I washed and hung up the stockings we were not looking for but found just in time.  My heart was pierced and I adjusted and advanced the ball.  I brought that stocking in and washed it on the delicate cycle.  I hung up both my baby's stockings by the chimney, with infinite care.  It might be the last time I ever get to do that while they are home.  Like it used to be.

Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas  from our house(es) to yours.  I wish you traditions and everything as close to the same as you are lucky enough to have this year.  Treasure it as you should, and may the bathroom be empty on your cry-y days.  

On Dandelions and Legacies........

*UNDERCOVER NOTE FROM AUTHOR: So, I've been blogging every day.  I'm not going to mention it, because I did not plan that, I do not know where it is coming from, and basically have no idea what is going on with that this.  Since I've been waiting to see what I was supposed to do next, been willing to do it, and really haven't cared what it is, I'm just going with whatever happens.  It's been a very good period for me, probably much like people who go away to "rest" after a nervous breakdown.  Odd, I know, but there it is.
I have no idea how long it may continue or where it might go, but who ever really does?  Let's just not mention it further and see what comes next.  ;)*

I started this blog in January of 2011.  There is something that I certainly have never brought up except to lament the fact that I don't do it, but you are supposed to do this every day.  Blog, that is.  I don't really care if anybody does it every day, but when they just stop??  And you're wondering if they died or some kind of horrible hospital stay in their life and so were unable to let you know that...well, they are still alive????  You try to remember how old their kids were the last time you saw them, and when that was???  Then you wonder if you are what would be considered a "stalker"???  That's very upsetting.  But hey, it's their blog.  They can do, or not do, what they want.  They would tell me to get my own and I would say, Hello!!  I did!!  Anyway, if you are still coming here and know me from your blog that you have abandoned, I miss you and hope you are doing well.

In 4 years this is my 225th post.  That's just how I roll.  I'm all right with it, and very unconcerned about how other people feel about that.  But I do so appreciate the friends I've made through this little blog and the loved ones who care enough to keep up with it.  You know who you are.  It has been a very strange and exciting journey, these years, and has helped me in many ways.  I hope it has helped you too, if only by giving bad examples and citing mistakes made.  And to the few nutzoids that I've corresponded with and also this blog to thank for?  I wish you peace.  I really do, and that is all.

It's been 3 years since I wrote This Post on The Secret of Life, Abigail was 4, and she picked every single dandelion out of my front yard one day.  She was into filling up a little bucket I had, and it didn't hurt her back to bend over, and she picked every single one.  That was a lot.  She had "very many" dandelions in her bucket.  The next day she got up and was bamboozled to discover that they had grown back!!  We considered it a miracle!  I will never forget her face that day.

That experience had the affect on me of never looking at a dandelion the same way again.  I hope it had the same affect on you too.  Why?  Because within the dandelion lies the core of the secret of life.

It's the most common thing in the world; ignored by many, despised by most, appreciated by very few.  Most people don't even give them a thought, unless it's to plan to kill them, and yet Dandelions will be blooming and seeding still, on the day they bury each one of us.  As children we believe that wishes made on seeded dandelion heads would come true if we blew on them and the seeds flew away.  At some point most of us quit believing.

The Dandelion has long been the eternal thorn in the side of anyone who likes "landscaping".  The Dandelion has roots that run very deep, and are edible, as are the many copious flowers that it produces.  Even if you pick every bloom out of your yard, the next day the Dandelion just sends up more.  These blooms, even if picked, will seed themselves and send out hundreds, nay, thousands, nay(!) MILLIONS (!!) of seeds.  Many will be lost to the wind, never finding land to sink roots into, but more will sink in and start again.  The Dandelion understands the odds.  The Dandelion does not shrink in fear or weep for lost seeds that never find fruition.  That's just life.  The Dandelion just keeps it's own counsel and does what it was born to do, despite what the world will do to itself.  The Dandelion will not only survive, it will thrive.

It reminds me of some people I know, and age has no bearing on that.  It's more of a spirit thing.  People either have it or they don't.  Most of us are born with it, but sometimes it gets worn down and some never recover from that mortal blow.  Other times, people discover their own strength at the strangest times and just run with it.  Life, after all, is not really that hard, if you are willing to just show up and keep going.  We trap ourselves, often, by not being willing to forget bad things that happened to us.  A lot of good things probably happened to us after that, but we choose not to think about those things.  Why?  I don't know either, I am really asking.  I do know that it's a choice, whether you realize it or not.  Take back your power, and smile.  Life goes on, and you might as well enjoy it because it will end sooner or later.  I hope you choose to keep going and enjoy the ride.  No, I don't know where we are going either.  But we are going, so smile.

Recently I have been obsessed with the work of Fantasy Wire in the UK.  I don't know what made them pick Dandelions, but check out their work if you love Fairies, sculpture or Dandelions.  I think you will be amazed.  I was.  This one is a weather vane, a big one, and it's called 1 O'clock Wish.

This blog post started to sink it's roots in around that time, and I have been mulling it over ever since.

I lost my job last year.  I am now 50 years old. I have a trip to Germany planned for 3 weeks this summer, so I'm only looking for part-time work right now.  I am not too enthusiastic about going back to a desk.  At all.  I can do anything I want with the last few years before retirement.  It kind of blows my mind that I consider 12 years a "last few", but I do.  I can say that without a qualm and someday, if you live long enough, you will be able to, too.  Yes, it's weird, but not scary.   

The state of nursing homes in our land is rather abysmal and I hope I never end up in one.  I would, simply put, rather die.  I am a nurturer, I can't seem to help it.  I am pretty sure that is why I was born.  With all the cold reality setting in around me, it occurred to me that elder care would be a thing I would love, could support myself doing, and would be cheaper done at home than the often shoddy and terrifying experiences of people in nursing homes.  I could tell you these stories, but it's sad and I am sure you have your own.  To give credit where it is due, I know many very good nursing homes also.  But not all......so I will leave it at that.  

I looked at the pictures of Fantasy Wire's work and contemplated the seeds that Dandelions produce.  How those plants thrive under almost any conditions and never worry about whether they will survive any kind of apocalypse.  They just bloom where they are planted and live their life, kind of like old people.  Also like old people, they leave seeds that fly all over their world, some that won't root for a long time, but will eventually.  Some will take root in ways that the person who sent the seed out would never have imagined.  Often, actually.  Some words they dropped into a child's ear and never thought of again will one day come back to that child as an answer to an unasked question.  Resolve will bloom in that child's soul and they will simply think "the answer was inside me all along".  They may never remember exactly why but that doesn't matter.  The seed took root and will bloom.

In my own life I have had moments where something a grandparent or my own mother said or did that I forgot about for years until it just came to me.  It came when I needed to remember it.   Seeds that flew by on the wind years ago, finally rooted and blooming and carrying on.  Dandelions speak to me because I am one, in a way.  We all are.  It's my turn now to bloom and send my own seeds on their way.  All throughout our lives we are blooming and seeding ourselves, many times unknowingly.  Don't worry.  I believe it is all part of a plan, and I know God is in control.

Will Abigail ever remember that day?  I am sure I explained how Dandelions send out seeds.  I know we dug up a root.  They are impressive, she may remember that now.  I know we have made many wishes on the seeded tops and joyfully blown seeds all over creation in our world many times.  I told Abigail that those wishes were real, and that the seeds would carry them.  I never stopped believing that was true, and I hope she never does either.   Some day, perhaps she will be making comparisons to Dandelions and the seeds that I planted with her.  I've done that with children all my life, and my own Charli girl is getting old enough to listen to my stories, too.  We scatter our legacies like the world scatters Dandelion's seeds.  

When we get old, we have boxes of pictures, journals, keepsakes and memorabilia that may only mean something to us.  If anyone else actually knew what it was, it would mean something to them also.  Maybe it would mean a lot.  

I am sure that my grandparent's told me who was in all those old pictures at some point; but I forgot.  What if I could spend my days with a person going through their old pictures?  Documenting their stories?  I did that as a child with my own grandmother, I did it with my mother before her death, I've been doing it ever since.  I could also sweep, make lunch, throw something in the crock pot for supper, and still do that.

My thoughts continued.  I have always taken care of babies, and still love to.  They are my first, and possibly my last, love.  However, I cannot run after those babies anymore.  Getting down on the floor is fine, but getting back up takes longer than it used to and frankly, I prefer not to do it.  But elder care.........that is going to be a good job to have, at the age I am now.  I can listen to, and document, people's stories all day long.  I love their stories.  It doesn't matter how small they are or how much they think no one else would be interested.  I know for a fact that after they are gone, after the seeds have all flown and their children and grandchildren are feeling so alone, they are going to want to know.  Even if they didn't before, which I certainly hope they did, but you know how kids are.  I know you know because we were all kids at one point and I think we all did the same thing.  Kids do not pay attention and later they are so sorry.  But that's life.  And I could make that easier on them.

That napkin that looks like trash to them and would go right into the trash bag may be the one their grandmother saved from the first night she met  their grandfather.  That was the night that sparked a thousand more, and eventually the people who are sorting through this box of memories.    It gets better; that wedding ring charm that they can't find the bracelet to go with; she pawned it to buy seeds so her husband could feed their babies in the summer of '32.  She never told him.  She didn't want to hurt his feelings because it was the only piece of jewelry he could ever afford to buy her.  She worried about not telling him, but then he never seemed to notice, and she never knew for sure whether he figured it out or not.

I totally just made that up but I swear to you on all that is holy, there are stories just exactly like this among one of your relative's souvenirs.  Maybe the stories are even better.

This was feeling like a really good idea.  Who doesn't need someone to come in and stay with their sick child because where they work has a point system and the child isn't sick enough to go to the Dr. but is too sick to go to school?  What if there was an older woman you could call to come sit with your child?  To tell Dandelion stories and give them frozen treats and make a bed for them on the couch where they can heal?  You can go to work, think about that while you need to, and know that you will be coming home to a clean and orderly house, and just join the flow of your own ordinary life without having to make up for lost time.  Supper will be ready when you are, and then you can snuggle with your sick little one, all without missing a beat or any one "job" suffering over any other.  I feel for you.  I lived that life for what turns out to be too long, but I remember exactly how horrible it was.  I would have given anything for a woman like me.  A grandma.  Notice how all the grandma's work now?  Thanks, "liberation"!  *waves tiredly*

Who hasn't had a sick loved one at home who needed them, but they had to go to work?  It's awful.  Your mind is not with you at work.  It's imagining your poor parent has fallen and just laying there waiting for help.  Your poor loved one is lonely, confused, perhaps they have that demon Alzheimer's, and you have a family to help, but you cannot possibly cover every minute of every day and night, even with your family helping.  These things will happen to you eventually, if you know the odds.  They have happened to me, and I know exactly what it is like and how hard it is.

Perhaps you just "get things slide" for too long, and your house is a mess and you have to host a family dinner next week and you need some help doing a deep clean.  I'm your man.  I know how it is, kid, I raised 4 kids myself and 2 dogs and I could tell you bagless vacuum cleaner stories that would make you feel like Mary freaking Poppins.  Everybody has dirt.  You are not special in this regard.  Now get out of the way so I can mop.  

Growing up, whenever we had a death in the family, which was kind of often, we had a ritual that seems a bit strange to me now.  I never questioned it growing up, but now I'm wondering if we were considered strange, or if everybody did it.  It's one of the things I still don't know and maybe never will.  When we had a death in our family, we called a lady who lived in town that we had known all our lives, and she helped us clean the house of the deceased.  We did not hire her to clean it for us.  We all cleaned it together.  It was, perhaps oddly, the way we coped.  Someone would die, we would call a lady named Mary, and instead of taking to our beds and crying, we would clean the house and ready it for people to drop by.  Then we would go home exhausted, take to our beds, and cry.  But first things first.  Strange or normal?  Your call.  I just thanked God for Mary.  Still do.  Whether she treasured ordinary life all along or got fed up with corporate crap and turned her back on it; also a  mystery.  See how it doesn't matter but works out in the end?

Perhaps you need someone to sit with your wife.  "What would you do?", you might ask.  Well, what is her ordinary life like?  This is what I will do.  What does your wife like to spend her days doing?  Does she love her flowers? Her garden?  Does she crochet?  I do not, but I've been feeling terrible about never learning.  Does she love to cook?  So do I.  Maybe we will spend days talking about her babies.  I can take down all the information for them that will be lost with her.  When they got their teeth, when they walked, what illnesses they went through, funny things they said when they were little.  All these will be lost to the wind when she is gone.  There are some things that only a mother remembers.  Sad but very true.  I can keep that from happening.  Eventually, someone will want to know that, and you can take that to the bank.

I have experience with Alzheimer's and know that some days it's enough to let them paint.  The walls.  Of their house.  Black and pink, perhaps.  But it soothes them, they are their walls, after all, no one gets hurt or upset, and it's just paint.  There may come a day when you let a person do something like this because they are so precious to you that you literally do not care what the walls look like.  On that day, the fact that your wife or mother is in her own house, occupied and happy, and will be there when you return, will mean everything to you.  Even if she is not exactly like she used to be.  Even if there is crazy paint all over the walls; she will be there,  she will be as all right as it is possible for her to be, and you will have one more day of memories with her.  It will mean everything to you.  I've lived that.  It's worth more than anything, then.

I have experience with end-of-life care, more than I would actually like, but again; life.  I know how important it is to certain person's dignity that they cross the river from home.  I respect that.  Nobody crosses that river alone, either.  Don't worry.  

How did maintaining an ordinary life come to take extraordinary measures?  This is what I asked myself.  How did cherishing ordinary life work it's way out of our culture?  Are these things even still considered "ordinary life" today?  Well, any reader of this blog will know the answer to that.  That, however, is not the point.  The point is that we need to bring these things back.  We need to focus on what is really important, and we need to do that before we are old and in need of a companion to help us maintain our ordinary, glorious, lives.

So I decided to see what happened if I offered this service.  I ordered business cards and everything.  I used a Dandelion on them.  There were so many reasons I couldn't even begin to fit them on a card; hence this post.  Plus, I ordered them for practically nothing from Vista Print and the dandelion theme was already there.  I took it as a God wink.

This is the front, I apologize for the clarity but it was the best I could do.

I chose Extraordinary Measures as a name.  It's a little tongue in cheek, as am I, but I love the irony of ordinary life taking extraordinary measures these days.  I think I'm finally the perfect age to do some good.  I have been training since childhood.  I probably should have a doctorate.  In my world, I do.  I actually am the modern day version of Mary freaking Poppins, minus the snazzy outfit and sadly, ability to fly.  So far.  Never in a million years would I have predicted it; but there it is.

And the back:

I love living in the country.  I am not too interested in going back to an office and sitting there until I die, or just wish that I had, while out there life is happening and I am missing it.  I am surrounded by cows and good people who are getting on in years.  I am positive they have wonderful stories to tell and I think I can both support myself and my new community in a valuable and "old fashioned" way that they will appreciate.  I seems a little crazy but it feels right.  I will do it privately in order to circumvent all those crazy no-common-sense- rules that govt. entities purporting to offer this same service use to choke any kind of logic or purpose out of their own creations.  We will have none of that.  If you have lived to be in your 80's and want salt on your green beans, have some salt.  You have lived your entire life, raised a family, taken care of your debts and hoed your own row.  And you would like to sit outside and have a beer?  Cheers.  To me, it's largely a matter of respect, but honor and dignity are in there, too.

People will still have control over their own lives.  For those that do it their way, I am here.  I think it might be my purpose.  Finally!  Finally a reason and a course to follow!  How long did I wander around wondering why I was going through all this?  Long.  I put in hard work and I feel like I'm finally seeing the "why".  

It just feels right and I've reached the age where if it doesn't work out, well, I just know something else will.  Those seeds are going to root somewhere, and you can bet on that.

Reflections on 50.........

I think back on the last year and all the changes it has brought.  We moved, new jobs, new friends, new vehicles.

The boys have 1 more year of high school, prom is coming up, they have become mechanics, or at least serious apprentices, and they walk more like men than boys now.

I am a grandmother for real now.

Children are such handy gauges for us to measure life with, and I have recently found myself in long conversations with all of my children, (both real and acquired) that started with "Remember when......." and went on and on.

I used to feel I was drowning in children when my house was full of them and they spilled over into the yard and trailed up the street.

Life comes in waves, and eventually you realize you are the beach.

This beach is watching another wave on the horizon, there are more children in it, among other things that I cannot make out for certain, but I can't wait for those days of love, simplicity and noise to pound on me again.  The things they say, the things they remember, the things they will not listen to and have to learn anyway.

I think this last year has been a time for me to heal in ways I did not know that I needed to.  Life has slowed down and I have had time to be present in the last years that I will have "children" at home.

During this time my older children have become fully grown adults, and are now able to marvel that "19 years ago......." and fill in the blank with what seems like just a few months ago.

I can't tell you how great this has been, to be present as they got to this place!

This tree, next to my new house, is I believe a grandfather to the nicely shaped but sickeningly scented Bradford Pears that are everywhere now.  It doesn't have the pretty shape, and I think has much deeper roots, but the blooms are the same.  The berries in the fall are different.  We have been wondering what kind of tree it is and almost cut it down.

It has taken us this long to figure it out.

It has been glorious to look at and horrible to smell the past few weeks.

Flies buzz like crazy in this tree during blooming.

It's kind of scary when you sit and listen to them.

I didn't know why we let it live until last week.

She's old.  She still looks great but smells terrible.  But that's the way nature designed her.

Last week, with all the rain and wind, she started losing her petals.

Everywhere we went, we had petals blowing around, landing on us like confetti.

Everywhere we turned, our paths were strewn with petals.

I felt kind of like a bride, but knowing all the things brides still have yet to know, and I laughed out loud.

The petals did not smell bad, just looked pretty.

And I thought it a charming addition, despite the buzzing of the flies.

That is how charming I found it.

And I thought that I was definitely following a path, even if I did not know where it would lead, and that it was good and right.

We have been confetti'd, every way we turn.

It's made for a magical time.  One day it's cold and rainy, we can hear the rain beating down on the roof as we watch the fire.

White stuff in your hair?  NOT dandruff!!  Look closely and you will see petals in the air.

The next day it's warm and sunny, you open the door to go out and white petals are cascading down and blowing around in little eddies on the wind.  They land in your hair, brush against your eyelids, sit on your shoulders, get stuck in your hair, and have lined the path you are about to embark on.

No matter which way you go.

It occurs to me that which path you take matters naught; it is the going that matters.

I have the strong feeling all paths lead to the same place in the end.

More leaves than petals this week.

That tree is going to live.

As must I.

Not to mention an entire new generation of little girls (so far) that have need of magical petal floating in the air and lining their paths. No matter which one they take.

I think I may have been appointed as one of the ladies that points these things out, and sets up tea parties on the lawn.

With umbrellas, and matching rubber rain boots.

This lady may have gray hair, and a long braid.  

This is about all that I need to decide on in the near future.

A slightly better shot of the floating petals.

Everywhere you go, everything has been festooned with petals.

The bulbs are blooming gloriously.

I need to decide what to put in that hanging, petaled, pot.

But not today.  There is no hurry.

White has been added to all the colors, in polka dot shapes

I think it is healing all of us to be here.  We have different family closer, now, and can just run into them, which we are getting used to.

And while we have been very busy, we haven't been tied to rigid schedules.

This has allowed room for trying new things without the stress of whether these things will work out or not.

In a fit of hopefullness, I threw an onion and some garlic that had sprouted in my refrigerator in pots this week and set them outside.

Well, hello onions!

And just look what happened!

I didn't even try.

Sometimes things just work out.

No one knows why, they just do.

Tulips on deck!

The tulips are getting dressed for the show they will put on very soon, and just like at the other house, I have a white lilac in front and a purple lilac in back.  This may sound crazy to you, but those were 2 of the things I loved most about that house, and the symmetry here is comforting and feels right to me.
One more day of sunshine and BAM!  We are going to have lilacs!!
I had to give up a lot, but none the most important things to me have been lost.  What I have gotten in return is so vital and precious to me that I cannot not put it into words and pictures do not do it justice.

The other morning was so nice I just had to run down the road and be by the water.  Water runs freely though out the land of Lindy and white feathers, cascading, trickling, sometimes roaring, but always, always present and moving, the sun shining off the smallest of ripples.  The flowers were blooming, the grass was so green, and there just comes a certain day, I remember from when I was small, that you are compelled to get out and "smell the creek".

"He maketh me lie down in green pastures..........

It's not an elegant phrase, but it's the bottom line way I thought of it as a child, at my most basic and honest self.
In those days, part of almost every day was spent at a creek.  With rock bottoms, endless jewels to be discovered and sorted.  Tadpoles to be watched and sometimes caught.  Crawdad's to have sword fights with once you discovered their hole.  Small fish nibbling on your toes, turtles sunning themselves in the heat of the sun, and the only lotion slathered on us was sun "tan", not sun "block".

He leadeth me beside the still waters......

You see it, you hear it, you feel it, you smell it.
It surrounds you, in every way, and everywhere you look, everything is just right with the world.
There's no other way to put it.  There are no clocks here, the sun and the moon keep the time.
Time goes slowly, and you breathe easy.

I have spent years of my life sitting on a beach just like this.  I am so blessed.

As I turn 50, I find myself recognizing that most basic and honest self more and more often.

It's been a long time since I have seen her.

The person I was long before I became an adult or parent.  My hair is back to what it was before I spent countless hours and dollars to make it look like something it, in fact, was not.

The things that are most important to me cannot be bought with money.

Words get in the way of instinctive understanding.  Can you remember a time when  your thoughts were not formed in words in your head, let alone complete sentences?

He restoreth my soul........

If you can't, you should go back to the places where you were very young.

Or maybe you have to get to be a certain age before you will remember that part.

Life asks a lot of us, at different times, and in different ways.

But it's always in flux, whether you realize it or not.

Eventually, your children grow and have lives of their own.

You love them more than ever, and they bring you joy in ways you never expected.

But now you get your solitude back. Time to dream, time to consider, time to plan, again.

Time to think, or work, or just "be", without interruption or distraction.

I think this is part of the design.

Sunlight on just one branch of a huge and beautiful bush.  See what I did there??

Life is always taken one day at a time, whatever phase we are in.

But I have reached the age where I watch calmly for what comes next and take it in stride.

Gone are the days where I ran around, anxious to please, fearful of disapproval, worried about how it would all turn out.

Been there, done that.  It's over.  It was fun but it's over.

The next phase of my life will be much calmer and more joyful.

Whatever it is.  I'm going to just appreciate whatever it is.

It's a surprise!

I'm just going to enjoy every day and watch it all unfold, like the grass and the bulbs and the babies.

Everything has it's own path, design, and journey.

I already know it will turn out.

It always does.

Days Like This..........

We have been blessed with some rainy, stormy days lately.  I love rain.  I also love storms.  My 50th birthday is looming on the horizon, and I have been watching baby calves come along in impressive numbers, flowers bursting forth, and petals showering down all around me.

Forsythia through a rainy window in March, 2015.  Pregnant cow in background.

One day you get up, and it's rainy and chilly. 

The next day you get up, and it's foggy but the sun is coming out.

The next day it's beautiful and 80.

After that the wind blows everything like crazy and all the leaves you thought you had raked up are right back where I guess they must belong.

I leave that to God, largely.  There is just so many things that I can handle on my own. 

Leaves do not make the list.

I am not even sorry.

This is a picture that didn't turn out very well, but the sun was coming up and the cow's breath was making misty clouds that I could see much better than I got in this picture.

I took the picture just to jog my memory. 

Sadly, you, my friends, will have to imagine it.

I guess maybe you had to be there.

Then the sun came up and I went ahead and looked right into it.
After all, I am 50 now.  Well, almost.
I can do what I want.
I told myself the camera was a filter.
I probably could even have used some kind of different setting.  Perhaps this is the year I will learn about that.
Perhaps not.
We will just have to wait and see!
It'll be a surprise.

Go ahead and look, kid.

It was the week before my birthday, I was just feeling great.

We were headed over to my brother's for the day to cook out and work on the yard.

The boys were driving their own truck with both dogs loaded up, thrilled for a ride, and it was a beautiful day.

I just felt so very blessed, I had no idea why.

The fact that my dad was calling wondering why I wasn't in church and my new-found neighbor/aunt I never had was texting me asking the same thing began to give me clues, though.

My flock.  I would be lost without them.

Unbeknownst to me, my church family had planned a surprise birthday party for me, complete with dead flowers and everyone dressed in black.

It was a God wink to me to find this church.  The pastor's name was Rob Wood.  Those of you from Browning, Mo will recognize this name, carried by one, and carried still by another, unforgettable people.

How could I miss another Rob Wood?

That would be crazy and I can't even go into explaining why.

Those who know, just know.  ;)  It's a Browning thing.

But I digress.

This church, led by Rob Wood, is so laid-back and comfortable, it's more like successful group therapy than church.

I mean that in the best way possible.

If you feel the need to throw something in, well, you just do.

Rob said someone once asked him about what "program" he used to get the congregation to interact with each other, and he just laughed.

It's a family.  You would just have to come and see for yourself.

Highway O. Newton Co, Mo.  Wanda is the name of what used to be the town.  You can't miss it.  Just come see and tell me I'm wrong.

Heck, I dare ya.

Anyway......

Yes, I missed my own surprise party.

That was really disappointing.

And embarrassing.

But since it's not my fault, because I didn't know, we went on with our day.

I would later come home to find these thoughtfully wrapped bouquets on my front porch, where I had just sat feeling so blessed that morning and not knowing why.

Look at the care they took with the ribbons!  :D

But that would all be discovered later.

At this point we were headed to my brother's place with the dogs proudly tasting the wind all the way over.

Once there, I dropped the potato casserole into my sister-in-law's arms and headed straight to the bathroom, where I was proud to have made it without peeing my own pants.

Because, hey, I am almost 50 now.

Comes with the territory. Prepare yourselves now.  I speak the truth!

Within a minute and half I can hear the sounds of a dog fight in the front yard.

My heart is pounding, but what can I do?

Because I am almost 50 now, absolutely nothing but sit there and wait for my poor old bladder to be done and hoping fervently that our next stop is not an emergency room or the digging of a grave for a beloved dog.

Maybe two!!

When I finally get out, I rush to join my sister-in-law at the front door.

We observe my own Shadow and her sweet Patch at each other's throats, with Jack frantically barking.  Jack seems a little unhinged.

Apparently when my dogs came into Patch's yard, he was all like "OH NO YOU DIDN'T"

and Shadow was all like "THESE ARE YOUR MANNERS?  YOU DIRTY CUR! DON'T YOU KNOW I'M THE QUEEN??!"

And Jack was just like "YIKES! WHAT IS GOING ON HERE? PLEASE STOP THIS MADNESS! I WANT MY MOM! "

Both my boys had one of our dogs each, my brother had Patch, all the men were straining to hold a dog back and all the dogs were barking and making noises like they were, in fact, killing each other.

At least, that's how it looked to us from the safety of the doorway.

Suddenly, at some signal, my youngest baby just picks Shadow, bodily, up, and she just lets him.

She does not bite off his head, or claw his face into shreds, or scalp him, or anything.

She just lets him pick her up, possibly because she is the queen, and he calmly walks back to the truck and deposits her, where she stays.

It was like a miracle.

My oldest baby follows suit with Jack.

Once again I am so thankful and happy for my brother.

He can fix anything.  He really can.

His presence around my boys, and I believe their presence around him, is a blessing that just keeps giving.

In the most unexpected and surprising ways.

So, it is decided that I will take our dogs back home.

Thank God I peed.

So into the back of the amazing HHR go the dogs.

Shadow is tired.  Jack is staying as close to his Mama as possible.

Shadow seemed a little confused and a lot tired, but still regal.  She made herself comfortable and had nothing to say whatsoever.

Queens do not concern themselves with the opinions of peasants.

At least not once they are safe on a feather bed in the back of their mom's car.

Jack stayed as close as he could get to me the entire way home.  He was a little amazed to find that Shadow let him have the middle.

This is why the "princess" syndrome is a bad idea, people.

Shadow is not, in fact, the queen of the world.

She was very disappointed to find this out but I think she got a good picture of what can happen in the real world.

Live and learn, Shadow.  Live and learn.

I am very happy to have your company in this endless journey of lessons learned the hard way.

Jack has my six.  Or something.  If you have never traveled with a dog sniffing the air behind your head, I feel sorry for you.

So I delivered the dogs back home, told them they were the best dogs in the world, and treated them to a big bowl of leftover stew.  Why not?  Nobody even got hurt.  

I took it all in stride, as 50 year old's do.  We've seen it all before.

  I sang a few bars of  Days Like This, and I gloried in being flexible.

Oh, and on my way back to my brother's for the second time, I saw this little mister, who had recently joined us.

His eyelashes are about 4 inches long and I do believe he batted them at me a couple of times.

I could have snuggled up with him and just lay in the sun the rest of the day, to be honest.

Is he not adorable?

Back I went, over the rivers and through the woods, to my brother's house.  We had a great meal and did a lot of yard work, and laughed about dogs and territories and life in general.

My sister in law confessed she was in heaven.

So was I.

All around us our boys were working.

We went over all her flower and vegetable beds, I got some honeysuckle starts, and many, many leaves were destroyed.

Don't get excited, these are pin oaks we are dealing with, and many 

leaves also remain.

But we do love to burn.

It's how God made us. *shrugs*

Meanwhile, all the bulbs I had been waiting for.....

Early blooms but many more coming.......

Really got to going!  Blooms were bursting forth!  Music was playing!  (Ok, that was just in my head.  I think....)

Every day there are more!

A fairie's view from inside the flower basket.

Within a few days, that flower basket looked full and overflowing.

Purples, pinks, yellows.

Hyacinths, Pansies, Jonquils, Muscari.......

Tulips are on deck.

I still haven't removed the leaves.  We still have some frosty mornings ahead.

So, the crazy day came to an end.

What a day it had been!

I even made it home with a few barrels my brother cut in two for me.

I think I will put vegetables in them on the South side of the house.

I thought, that morning, about the last six months of our lives.

I thought, if someone would have told me last year that all this would happen.........what would I have thought?

I thought about fireplaces, and the twins getting snowed in at my brother's, and having my nephew in our home.

I thought about the night I had to cut him off of pop and hilariously heard "I'm All Out Of Love" blaring from the boys' room.

It had somehow found it's way into a show they thought was "cool" and later that night my nephew complained about it being stuck in his head.

I told him he now knew what it was to have survived the 80's.

Don't believe me?  Just click on the link I thoughtfully included for your listening pleasure.  Ah cha cha.  You are welcome!

I thought about what the next 6 months may hold for us.......

The twins will graduate next year.

I am going to Germany with my brother's family for 3 weeks.

The last year has brought a lot of change, almost all good.

I thought about the people I was so sorry to leave on a daily basis, but how I was so glad not to have that job anymore.

I thought about this crazy, mixed up day, and all that had happened.

Whether I was there or not.

This was just one day.

I thought about how my family would function without me, and how life has a rhythm that goes on with or without us, and what a comfort that is as I get older.

How much I love watching the seasons change and how much better life is when you put those things in your mind

and just let that be your world.

Let the flowers bloom, the babies come, the children grow, and the dogs grow old with me.

I can't wait to see what comes next.

50 is looking awfully good to me.

But the best part?

The best part is that I do get to be here.

My present to myself this year is to be more present in the moments I am here, and to worry less about what comes tomorrow.

Because what comes to tomorrow is still going to come.

Whatever it may be.

My grandmother's would have said this as "No need to borrow trouble."

They would have been right, and I love getting to be the age where I can offer sage advice, knowing it's true whether anyone believes me or not.

There will come a moment, someday, when they will remember what I said and know.

They will just know.  That I was right.  That I knew what was coming, even when they did not, and that I rested sure in their abilities to handle it.  

How much I loved them.  How you can dance in the rain, enjoy the storms, live to see the next day, and live that by the seat of your pants, too.

Life will go on.

With or without me.

Now get out there and dance.  Greet a newborn creature.  Watch the seeds  you have planted bloom.

Make a cup of tea when you hear that thunder and get out to the porch to watch the storm.

You might be surprised how much you enjoy it.