Your Finest Hour

This year has been rough. The past two years, actually. I don't have to tell you, you already know that. Pandemic, right? Work from home if you're lucky, or unemployed. Kids home all day, spouse too. Worries about having enough, dealing with sickness when sickness is so scary . And mamas, we worry anyway, don't we? All the time. All those late nights holding babies, then working the next day. Going all day after a sleepless night, preparing dinner or ordering pizza, washing those uniforms for the next day when all we want is sleep. Finding time to actually talk to our spouse. Putting all we have into all we do. Calling mom and dad to see how they are, finding time for a drink with the hubs before bed. And then, after all of that, you wake up at 2 am to hear crying. One of your littles is sick. This requires you, mama. So you hold and clean and comfort and rock and reassure. And know the whole time that you will be exhausted the next day, wondering while you're rocking, will I have to call off ? Can I still work?" It's so much, isn't it? What if I told you this is your finest hour? That moment you change a life? The exact moment in time you show another human being just exactly what love in action looks like? That moment that a person realizes, "Hey! I'm worth something! I am worthy of love!" Because guess what? That's what we do . We spend our lives showing others just how worthy they are of love, and attention, amd time. This is it mamas. This? Is your finest hour.

Deep Love

Today is Valentine's Day. All about love. Today I did what everyone hopes to do on this holiday. Spent the day with the love of my life, had an intimate meal for two, held hands and told each other of our love. Soinds great, yes? Our day was spent driving to a doctor's appointment after brain surgery for a tumor. The surgery went well, but the healing part-not so much. Too much after-surgery swelling caused problems, and an extensive acute physical rehabilitation stay. Today's doctor visit felt like skipping school, like a day out with dad instead of mom, like skipping Sunday school to play on the church playground. A bit naughty, a bit fun. Like a blind date with a person you completely hit it off with, while your friend and her boyfriend are bored to tears with each other. And then we went to lunch. Not a fancy restaurant, not even inside a restaurant. Fast food in the car, in a parking lot. If you haven't been in love, you won't understand, but...it might have been the best date we've had in years. Not the romantic, perfect, ethereal version of love you see in literature, but the real, real version of love. The version where you stick together no matter what, through thick and thin, through sickness and health-just like the vows. There's a sweetness that happens after some rough times together that the first blush of young love can't ever match. It's a mellow, familiar, deep, precious, essential-to-your-survival, type of love. The type of love that happens when you've been tested and survived. The type of love that happens when you would spare your SO any pain you could by taking it on yourself, but they won't let you.

I wouldn't trade our deep mellow love for anything in the world. Happy Valentine's Day honey. And Happy Every Day . I love you.

Doggo

I've been thinking a lot lately about dogs. Not unusual, considering we have dogs at our house. But I mean in a more ethereal sort of way. We've lost two dogs in the past 10 years. We were heartbroken over both of them. They made our lives better, in away that is almost indescribable. Everyone talks about the unconditional love that a dog offers, or the wiggle-butt greetings when you come home. They talk about the "please" face when they want something , or the zoomies that always make you literally laugh out loud. But what is it, exactly, about dogs, that make us carry them outside when they can't do it for themselves any longer, or make them little wheelchairs, or spend our savings at the vet to save them when they've become injured? What makes us sob like we've lost our dearest friend when we watch them pass?

Why do dogs make us feel so much better about ourselves? I feel like, maybe, it's because in part, they accept us unconditionally. It has been said that a dog is the only thing on earth that loves you more than it loves itself. Like Jesus, they would die for us without a second thought to themselves. Unlike Him, they can't save our souls, but they can perhaps point it in the right direction. Maybe a dog is just what we need to make us realize what terrible, fragile, awful beings we are and can be. Maybe perhaps they can show us what unconditional love can do for a person. And sadly, what the inevitable loss of that type of love here on earth can do to our beings, what a horrible void it's absence leaves. Be kind to each other , as kind as our dogs would be.

Sunday.

I cleaned and straightened the office, the office closet, purged and shredded the file drawers, returned our closet to a semi-functional state. Shredded a bag of old bills, vacuumed the hallway twice. Cleaned off my desk, added to the donation bag of old clothes. Made a lasagna, planned a weeks worth of meals. Updated my planner, made note of what else I need to do this week. Finished lesson plans for the daycare, laminated and bound a book for story time.  Mopped the kitchen and entry way. 

And so many other things. 

Didn’t call my mom or siblings (are they okay, healthy?) . Didn’t bathe the dogs, didn’t balance the checkbook. Still didn’t finish my classes for daycare. The basement is still a hoarders paradise, I still haven’t had paint matched for the kitchen cabinet touch-ups.  

I did get a Christmas gift finished and wrapped, did pick up paint chips for our (still not painted after 13 years ) bedroom. 

I managed to text both my awesome children whom I don’t see nearly often enough. No one else though. 

Managed to find a few minutes for my devotional, prayed continuously all day long. 

Nothing I do is ever enough. Not ever. I keep trying. Keep praying for everyone I know. Me especially, because I know that I need it so so much. But also for everyone in my life.

We all need those prayers, we all covet them. 

Tomorrow is Monday, and I start the rat race all over again. I’m going to get through somehow, by the grace of God, so I can do it again next weekend. 

I have to.

Um, HOW Long?!

 So, um it’s been a while! No excuses here! Our lovey puppers Buddy Lee crossed the rainbow bridge 😢

It was extremely hard on us all. Our oldest child left the nest , bought his own house, moved his girlfriend in, and lost a baby. 😢

Our daughter found a job she’s great at, found a man who understands her, and moved into their first apartment. 

Meanwhile, the hubs and I just keep keeping on. We celebrated 35 years of marriage this year. Seems like a lot to say it, but living it - Just life, you know? I wouldn’t be anywhere else, he’s home for me. 

I want to start writing again, but does anyone even read blogs anymore? If you’re reading this , let me know! Maybe I’ll write anyway. 

The Holidays

Well, the holidays are upon us. I (just barely) managed to survive Thanksgiving with family and friends around me, and now I have to prepare for Christmas.
Rewind: I remember baking cookies and decorating the tree with my mom when I was little. Sometimes my siblings were there, but mostly it was the two of us, possibly because I was so much younger than my siblings, possibly because my mother and I are both crazy Christmas nuts. Either way, that love continued into my adult-hood.

 When my children were born, I tried to pass that love onto them. We baked and decorated cookies together, decorated the tree together, went to see Santa, talked about baby Jesus, sang songs, made gifts-everything we could squeeze in, we did. I expected that love to continue when they became adults, and possibly on to grandchildren.

 But somewhere along the line, I started to become stressed out over all the preparations, all the expectations, all the expense, all the people, all the gatherings, all the parties, just...all. It stopped being about peace somewhere, and started being about what other people expected I should want to do.
 Well, I'm taking my holidays back, starting now. I've been thinking about it, and here are my new rules, based on what I believe made me so happy about the holidays when I was a child:
1. No rules! Whatever my husband and I decide,  is what we will do.
2. Peace is the order of the season.
3. I have always believed that Christmas is about Jesus. I celebrate Christmas as a season to celebrate a wonderful gift that was given to all mankind, undeserved by any of us. I will hold that in my heart always, and let it guide me as I used to.In that spirit I present number 4:
4. Since Christmas is about a gift, I will do my part to try and focus on the thing that has always made me the happiest: giving whatever I think will make someone happy, to whoever I feel needs that from me.
5. I love and desire to have my family around me at this season, but I realize that not all of them will be able to be there when I have "the official meal". Here's the thing, and I will do my best to explain this: My husband and I celebrate our anniversary all year long. We don't always go out to a big dinner, or a special event to celebrate that exact day. We have always felt that it is more important to treat each other in a way that is special every single day. And THAT  is the way I feel about Christmas. If you are a complete shrew every single day of the year, why in the world would anyone want to spend a holiday with you? But if you treat the people around you as if they matter, as if their opinions matter, as if their entire life's joy is your mission in life? Well, then, they will feel as if you are the gift, and any thing you give them will be extra, the cherry on top.
  I want, above all else, for those that I love to feel about Christmas the way that I used to feel, the way that a children's Christmas concert, or the Charlie Brown Christmas special, or baking cookies with my mom, or shopping for my family, has always made me feel: Like I had the privilege of looking directly into the manger and seeing the eyes of my Savior Himself , and knowing that LOVE is the best gift of all, and that it was meant just for me. Because THAT is what I'm really giving when I give a gift, or cook a meal, or give a hug. And if the people I love most in this world cannot be here in my home with me on the day the world celebrates our Saviors birth, well, I'll miss them, but that's okay.
     Because I celebrate His birth every day of my life,and the love of my family every day of my life,  and I will be thrilled to celebrate with them any time they can spend a few minutes with me.

• "Above all, love each other deeply, because love covers over a multitude of sins." ~ 1 Peter 4:8

The Beauty of a Dream

I’m a crafty person. I enjoy making things with my own hands, and dreaming up those things beforehand. For the same reason, nothing makes me happier than cooking for people who appreciate the results. It’s one of the ways I show those around me that I love them.

 This also manifests itself in my home. I love redoing rooms , reorganizing inside cabinets, adding little vignettes and pictures, and just general nest-fluffing. I strive to make my home work better on a daily basis. The worst part of this type of creativity is that I can’t redo the things I want to redo , all by myself. I don’t have the knowledge, the brute strength, or the height, that is often required to do things like put up drywall or paint the ceiling.

In this regard, I’m fortunate to have a wonderful husband who is taller, stronger, and has a head full of knowledge about remodeling. He’s taught me a lot of lessons about handyman type things, and done some absolutely stunning work on our 95 year old house.

The most recent lesson is that it might be time to say goodbye to this old house and get something a little more old-age friendly. We haven’t decided whether or not to do this yet, but it’s definitely on both of our minds lately.
 If we do decide to do this, I will definitely have a bit of a cry. I never got to see this house become what I wanted it to be. But 12 hour work days and weekend meetings and classes are not conducive to do-it-yourself home remodeling. And so it might be time to say goodbye to this beautiful old craftsman-era girl, and find something with fewer wrinkles, even though this house was my dream home.
 I guess the beauty of a dream, is that it can change when necessary.