Carry Me, Jesus.

 We played cards. Madly, game after game, we played on. Slap Jack, Go Fish, more Slap Jack. 

I hadn't expected to be with the girls today. The day lay before me, empty. I had plans but they weren't fun plans. I was going to buy yellow paint to start repainting the foyer. But that was about it. 

The Mr. and I woke up early, eager to be at the football game, and yet completely dreading it, too. It's such a pleasure getting to see Claire cheer, and spend time with Arya in the stands while we watch the game. But right now I can't look at their parents in the eye. 

The weather has finally let go of the over the top hundreds. There was a breeze and it was cloudy, and early, so it was pleasant. I was sitting next to Arya, who was next to Katie, when Katie addressed me and asked me if I was doing anything this afternoon. For a split second I thought she was going to ask me to do something with her, go somewhere, spend time with her, however I realized that was not the intent of the question. She needed me to watch the girls for awhile this afternoon. Of course I said yes. 

A couple of hours later, after a good doze in my chair, they arrived. We settled in, Arya watching TV, Claire and I reading the first of the Little House books that I bought them last week, at the Laura Ingalls Wilder museum. It has been many, many years since I read Little House in the Big Woods, the first in the series. Claire asked me to read, so I opened and began. And right away I ran into trouble. I had forgotten some things. The look on Claire's face as I read "In the yard, in front of the house were two beautiful big Oak trees. Every morning as soon as she was awake Laura ran to look out of the window, and one morning  she saw in each of the big trees, a dead deer, hanging from a branch." 

Talk about questions, she had them! This necessitated an explanation about the way people lived long ago, and that there were no cars, no stores, no food unless you grew it or shot it, because yes, Laura goes into detail about Pa and his hunting, even telling the reader that sometimes they went hungry if Pa went out and caught nothing. This also necessitated an explanation about why Laura mentioned that they had actual glass in the cabin windows. I told them not all houses had glass, some houses used fish skins for glass. FISH SKINS! They were dumbfounded. They couldn't believe it. 

Bravely I read on. I say bravely, because I wanted to stop, I did not want to be the one that introduced Claire to the realities of Pioneer living, in all of it's gruesomeness. However, she is almost eight, and old enough to understand some things, so I carried on, through Pa creating a homemade smoker, which she understood, because her grandpa smokes meat sometimes, to him skinning the deer, but I have to admit, my voice may have quavered when I got to this. "Then one day Uncle Henry came riding out of the big woods to help pa butcher. (the pig) Ma's big butcher knife was already sharpened, and Uncle Henry had brought Aunt Polly's butcher knife." I looked ahead a couple of pages. How bad was this going to get? Aaah yes, after the pig was butchered ("It doesn't hurt him, Laura", Pa said "We do it so quickly".) Mary and Laura played with it's blown up bladder, like an inflated ball. 

It was about that time that Claire decided to do something else. And I can't say I wasn't relieved. I didn't actually get to the part about the pig's bladder, I just kept that to myself, and quietly sequestered the books upstairs, for a later time. Not that I don't think they shouldn't know about those things, just not now. And maybe I will read through the rest of them first. Sometimes even we grownups forget about the brutality that was necessary for the survival of our ancestors. 

I was restless. I wanted to go somewhere with the girls, but they wouldn't be here long, and I didn't want to go out of town, so I had a brilliant idea, and suggested the new coffee shop in town, Narco Polo. This was met with enthusiasm by all, and we piled in the car and went downtown. All Claire had to hear was that there were books, and she was all for it. 

So the Mr. and I and Ally ordered coffees, and hot chocolates for the girls, and sat down in the booths. There was a game of checkers going on in the booth behind us, and a deck of playing cards on our own table. I broke it out. The girls have never played cards before, so I had to explain some rules, but they caught on quickly. After a rousing game of Slap Jack and a good game of Go Fish, we moved on to the checkers behind us, now abandoned by the former booth sitters. It was Ally and Arya, and it was a toss up who won that game. We must have been there an hour, and then practically had to drag Claire out so we could go eat tacos across the street. 

I had the Mr. run into Dollar General, though, and score us a deck of playing cards, so we could continue the madness at home. After the tacos we came home and got right into it. We played for another hour or so, and then unexpectedly, the visit turned into a sleepover. So I rounded up some night gowns, now almost comically too small on them, but all I had, and we played a while longer and then I let them watch tv until they fell asleep. It was such a beautifully peaceful night. 

This morning I was awake and out of bed at five thirty. They didn't have any church clothes, or any clothes at all other than the dirty ones they had shed the night before. The plan was to drive over to their house before church and let them dress themselves, but I opted for something else, to save time. Before anyone could miss me I sneaked out of the house and down to WalMart and bought them some cute little dresses. I was back in a jiffy and they were just waking up. Ally came up and asked if I would like her to make breakfast and I jumped at the offer. Oh yes. For I was so tired. I had been tired before the football game, the day before. A bone weary mental exhaustion that I have been keeping to myself, as much as I can. The round and round scenario in my head of when are they leaving?, what will I do without them?, is it too late for them to change their minds?, has made me want to bury my head in a pillow (like Laura?) and sleep for a hundred years, so I don't have to bear the pain of parting, but I know when I wake it will still be the same. It's like a slow torture. 

So I let Ally cook. I got us dressed. And then Claire and I played one last game of Go Fish, which ended in a draw, because it was time for church. 

Just before we left Arya came in holding a flower wreath I got in San Antonio that the Mr. bought for me a few years ago. It has a crown of roses and it lights up, with long streamers down the back. She wanted to wear it to church, and I said no. She didn't argue. She is not an argumentative person. She just quietly put it back. But later, after church, I got to looking at it hanging crookedly on it's knob, and I was overcome with a fierce emotion that I couldn't really name. I wish I had said yes. With all of my heart. Yes, you CAN wear it to church. Why not? Tears welled up and I texted Katie to let her know that next time she can most certainly wear it. In fact I have decided to give it to her. 

I decided to take a nap but I couldn't sleep. Every time I dozed off something would startle me awake. Finally it was the girl's dad. I wondered why he was calling. He was just calling to ask if we wanted some of the stuff from his shop he wouldn't be needing anymore. They were decluttering for the move. 

I stayed in bed for awhile. I was in some pain. The Mr. brought me a pain patch. Something going on behind my knee now, for over a month. Spasms, especially when I lay down to sleep. I could not doze back off. Too much pain, both inward and out. I began to weep until I literally could not weep anymore. 

Carry me, Jesus, this hurts too much. 

Floundering

I love this little corner of Laura's house

 We have been floundering, the Mr. and I. Hanging onto the hope that the "kids" wouldn't leave us, and afraid to death that they would. I had had a bit of relief when I talked to Kat the other day and she told me they hadn't heard anything, but it was short lived. Very short lived, as it turned out. Friday night we invited them over for dinner and they were quick to accept. Too quick. I had some foreboding and I wasn't wrong. In the middle of setting the table, the family arrived. They flooded in with noise and chatter and then suddenly it all stopped. Katie said loudly, amidst all the background noise. We are leaving. Moving. Just want to get it out there, now. What? Is this true? Hoping she was just kidding. She had a ghost of a smile on her face, as she looked at Jeff. Tell them, Jeff, she said. I looked down at the chicken I was plating, as my heart shattered. It took all I had not to burst into tears. The Mr. and I exchanged glances and I could see that his heart was also rending. I tried very hard not to look at either Katie or Jeff as they gave us the details. I just shut my mouth and went quiet, as I carved the chicken. We talked about it all through dinner, as if we weren't dying inside. When they left I went outside. I didn't even go upstairs. I just sat on the patio in the dark and let my heart bleed. I wept. After an hour I went in the house. 

There wasn't much to say. I felt so empty inside. What will I do without my girls? 

Sleep was scarce that night. 

The next day was Saturday, and Claire, who is a cheerleader, had a game. We always go to support her, her cheerleading cousins and their seven year old brother who is on the football team. I didn't say much to Kat or Jeff, just sat on the bench with Arya. It was hot. 100 degrees hot, and the sun was right in our face. It was almost four in the afternoon, the hottest time of the hot day, and we were roasting. I had brought my pink flamingo umbrella to shield us from the sun, and I was wearing my new hat, the large brimmed designer hat I had bought in Port Aransas a couple of weeks before. I let her wear it. The Mr. took her to get a sno cone and I watched Claire do her cheers in the hot sun, my heart aching, and my eyes heavy with unshed tears.

After the game we went our separate ways, and I realized belatedly that Arya still had my hat. And I didn't really care, although I do love that hat. At this point they can have anything they ask me for, if it's in my power to give it. 

Sunday morning, and I was more than a little nervous. Today Claire would be baptized. Today the entire family was coming to church, for the first time ever. How would it go? I had a lot of butterflies about the whole thing. On the other hand, I was so excited for Claire. 

We met the "kids" at the church, and as we entered we saw the girl's Sunday school teacher. We chatted a minute. She talked to Claire a little bit about what was going to happen, and gave some last minute instructions. It was determined that I would go with her to help her dress and undress afterwards. Her dad would also go, and watch from the men's side of the baptistry. 

Service began, and worship. Then the children were dismissed for children's church. As the pastor wound down the sermon I left my seat and came into the vestibule to meet Claire and the teacher. I walked her to the changing room near the baptistry and helped her get ready. The door was open to the steps down into the water. There were three children who wanted to be baptized today. Daisy, a little girl to our left went down first and then he reached his hand out for Claire. I can't tell you the joy that flooded through this Grandma's heart, as he asked her if she had received Jesus into her heart, and she responded with a very firm Yes! YES! The pastor repeated after her, and with that, said Upon that confession, I baptize you, Claire, in the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. And down she went. 

It. was. Lovely. 

I wanted to cry. But I couldn't. 

She came up out of the water and I helped her get her clothes back on, tucking the wet ones in her little backpack. We went out into the sanctuary to join the rest of the family, and asked Claire where she would like to eat lunch. So altogether then, we went to the Asian restaurant, because she loves it, and had a nice lunch.  

Then the Mr. and I got out of dodge. We went home and packed up the dog, and unlike last time, we took clothes and left for parts unknown. Not to say we were running away, like last time, it was just that we didn't want to be home for awhile. We were both emotionally exhausted and overwhelmed. 

We told no one, except Matt, and only because he caught us driving out of the driveway. 

We couldn't decide which way to go. We started out heading towards Albuquerque, and his family, but within a few minutes changed direction and headed for Eureka Springs, Arkansas. I had been there once, he had never been. The ride was lovely. Soon the dry drought ridden landscape became luscious with tall green trees, and high rocky cliffs. The trees weren't changing color yet, but the sky was bright blue and the road ahead was beautiful. We took the scenic route, which involved a lot of small twisty country roads, and pine trees. 

We got there in the evening and headed for downtown, and of course, it was eerily empty. Nothing was open. It wasn't tourist season and it was getting dark. We would our way along the small twisty streets with our overly large car, the Mr. being very careful, and looked at all the little houses, closely packed along the road. It reminded me of one of those Frontier town museums, where you walk along and go into the houses and see how people lived long ago, only these were lived in. This was a real neighborhood. 

After a while we drove back to our hotel and settled in. 

The next day we just rested. And we went to the grocery store and bought a lot of groceries, intending to stay in the hotel, which had a kitchen, for a few days. However, on a whim, we decided to go to Branson. Why not? So we bought a small cooler and loaded up all the groceries, and the dog, and my guitar, and the Mr.'s laptop, because he was working from the road, and headed to Branson. 

Branson was nice. Not really what I expected, and yet completely what I expected. We found our hotel, and filled the much smaller fridge with all of our grocery store food, and promptly went out to eat. We found a discount  overstock store on the way and went in with the dog tucked up in his stroller, and checked it out. So. much. junk. I looked at it all, and marveled that just a few years ago I would have wanted to buy all this junk. But now, especially in light of the purging I am doing in my house, I didn't want any of it. I was happy to leave without buying a thing. We continued on to our restaurant, which was high above the banks of the White River. We sat down at an outside patio table, with the dog still in his stroller and enjoyed watching the water show below us on the river. We were blown out of our chairs a few minutes later, as the water show became a water and fire show, unexpectedly. BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! to the beat of some loud music. Once we got used to it, we quite enjoyed it. 

After we got back to our hotel, it occurred to me that we were not far from the Laura Ingalls Wilder museum and farmhouse, a bucket list item for me. I told the Mr. about it, and the next day we packed up our fridge food, again, and the dog, and the suitcases, and my guitar, and the Mr.'s laptop, and our pillows, and drove the hour and a half to the house, stopping on the way to get out at a very cool fishing spot on a large river, overlooked by trees. People were standing on the banks trout fishing, and you could see the trout in the water, still, as if suspended, not moving much in the heat of the day. We left there with a vow to come back and stay at the lodge there. It was lovely. 

The Ingalls house and museum was everything I thought it would be. It was a cool morning, actually not hot for once. I walked up to the museum door, pushing the dog in his stroller, through a garden of prairie grass and butterflies. And although they have a strict no pet policy, they saw our stroller and allowed the dog to come in. So we walked around for a couple of hours just taking it all in. I was a huge fan of the Little House books as a little girl, and of course no one who lived in the seventies missed out on the Little House series on television. This was surreal, though. I was looking at Pa's actual violin. Made in 1850 in Germany. Almost two hundred years old, and carried all the way from Wisconsin, to South Dakota, and played by Pa often in the books. And incidentally, played just last week at the Grand Ole Opry. I walked around and looked at Laura's dishes. She had good taste. Looked at the clothes she made for herself. Looked at Almanzo's watch, a beautiful thing, and all of the canes he made for himself. Looked at the clothes sister Mary made for herself, although she was blind, she could sew beautifully. Looked at the family Bibles and the famous wooden dipper bucket. Saw the famous bread plate that Laura threw out the window when her house caught on fire. 

Then next door, we went into her home and looked at her pretty little yellow kitchen. Almanzo built the house for her, to her height specs, as she was only 4 ft. 11 inches tall. It took him seventeen years to complete it. She wrote the second half of her book series there, the first half in the rock house down the road that her daughter had built for them. Sadly we didn't have time to go over there and look at that, as we had to get on the road. We had decided that we would go ahead and go home today, when we were done with Laura's house. 

Our hearts were heavy as we turned toward home, our thoughts on our girls, and what life would be like once they were gone. I remembered what the pastor had said in the sermon on Sunday though, and I took comfort from that. We have to trust the Lord, even when things don't go as we would like. I knew this was true, with all of my heart, having experienced some things in the past that required that kind of trust. I know the Lord is good. My experience with things that don't go my way, is that when the experience has ended, the end result has always been far better than if I had had my way, if we trust Him. I didn't want to move to Salinas, in 2012. I didn't want the Mr. to lose his job. I didn't want his former bosses to steal all of our money out of our bank account. I didn't want to go through all the trouble of suing them, or having to declare bankruptcy, because of their actions. I didn't want my dad to have cancer, or the IRS to audit us, or my mom to have a car accident, or my dog to get run over. (It was a bad, bad, year). But in the end, after all was done. We ended up in our own home again. The Mr. had a great, great job, and the finances turned around. The bosses lost. We won. Dad recovered. Mom recovered. The dog recovered. The IRS was satisfied.  

And when the Mr. got sick, almost five years ago. I didn't know if he would live or die. The scale was tipping toward death, and quickly. He couldn't work. We had to go live in Houston. The house was, although not abandoned, left to the care of the kids, who didn't care for it at all. All seemed lost. But I trusted in the Lord. And now? Now the Mr. is in perfect health, and a man who loves the Lord, with a great job. So you see, I know that God is good. I know his plan for us is good. I know his plan for the girls is good. 

I know He will take care of them. I keep thinking about Job. The Lord gives and the Lord takes away. Blessed be the name of the Lord. 

But it still hurts. 

They will most likely be gone by Christmas. 

The Mr. wants to sell the house. 

Maybe he is right. I don't know yet. I have lost so much this year. My dad. And now my girls, I told him it's too much to think, right now, of losing my house, too. 

Besides, I just wallpapered the foyer and I'm loving it. And our contractor is coming next week to give us an estimate on a whole new living room floor. I'm very excited about this. Very. 

So what will we do after the girls are gone? We will carry on. We may get an RV and do more traveling. It remains to be seen. If there is one thing I know about the Lord, though, whatever He has in store for us, has got to be good. 

Here are some pictures, I had trouble uploading so they aren't necessarily in the order they were taken. 

Rocky Ridge Farmhouse

The famous bread plate

Entering Missouri

A tiny replica of Jack the Bulldog, from the Little House books

Missouri landscape

Pa's dear old Fiddle

The famous bucket and dipper

We talked about it all through dinner, as if we weren't dying inside. When they left I went outside. I didn't even go upstairs. I just sat on the patio in the dark and let my heart bleed. I wept. After an hour I went in the house. 

There wasn't much to say. I felt so empty inside. What will I do without my girls? 

Sleep was scarce that night. 

The next day was Saturday, and Claire, who is a cheerleader, had a game. We always go to support her, her cheerleading cousins and their seven year old brother who is on the football team. I didn't say much to Kat or Jeff, just sat on the bench with Arya. It was hot. 100 degrees hot, and the sun was right in our face. It was almost four in the afternoon, the hottest time of the hot day, and we were roasting. I had brought my pink flamingo umbrella to shield us from the sun, and I was wearing my new hat, the large brimmed designer hat I had bought in Port Aransas a couple of weeks before. I let her wear it. The Mr. took her to get a sno cone and I watched Claire do her cheers in the hot sun, my heart aching, and my eyes heavy with unshed tears.

After the game we went our separate ways, and I realized belatedly that Arya still had my hat. And I didn't really care, although I do love that hat. At this point they can have anything they ask me for, if it's in my power to give it. 

Sunday morning, and I was more than a little nervous. Today Claire would be baptized. Today the entire family was coming to church, for the first time ever. How would it go? I had a lot of butterflies about the whole thing. On the other hand, I was so excited for Claire. 

We met the "kids" at the church, and as we entered we saw the girl's Sunday school teacher. We chatted a minute. She talked to Claire a little bit about what was going to happen, and gave some last minute instructions. It was determined that I would go with her to help her dress and undress afterwards. Her dad would also go, and watch from the men's side of the baptistry. 

Service began, and worship. Then the children were dismissed for children's church. As the pastor wound down the sermon I left my seat and came into the vestibule to meet Claire and the teacher. I walked her to the changing room near the baptistry and helped her get ready. The door was open to the steps down into the water. There were three children who wanted to be baptized today. Daisy, a little girl to our left went down first and then he reached his hand out for Claire. I can't tell you the joy that flooded through this Grandma's heart, as he asked her if she had received Jesus into her heart, and she responded with a very firm Yes! YES! The pastor repeated after her, and with that, said Upon that confession, I baptize you, Claire, in the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. And down she went. 

It. was. Lovely. 

I wanted to cry. But I couldn't. 

She came up out of the water and I helped her get her clothes back on, tucking the wet ones in her little backpack. We went out into the sanctuary to join the rest of the family, and asked Claire where she would like to eat lunch. So altogether then, we went to the Asian restaurant, because she loves it, and had a nice lunch.  

Then the Mr. and I got out of dodge. We went home and packed up the dog, and unlike last time, we took clothes and left for parts unknown. Not to say we were running away, like last time, it was just that we didn't want to be home for awhile. We were both emotionally exhausted and overwhelmed. 

We told no one, except Matt, and only because he caught us driving out of the driveway. 

We couldn't decide which way to go. We started out heading towards Albuquerque, and his family, but within a few minutes changed direction and headed for Eureka Springs, Arkansas. I had been there once, he had never been. The ride was lovely. Soon the dry drought ridden landscape became luscious with tall green trees, and high rocky cliffs. The trees weren't changing color yet, but the sky was bright blue and the road ahead was beautiful. We took the scenic route, which involved a lot of small twisty country roads, and pine trees. 

We got there in the evening and headed for downtown, and of course, it was eerily empty. Nothing was open. It wasn't tourist season and it was getting dark. We would our way along the small twisty streets with our overly large car, the Mr. being very careful, and looked at all the little houses, closely packed along the road. It reminded me of one of those Frontier town museums, where you walk along and go into the houses and see how people lived long ago, only these were lived in. This was a real neighborhood. 

After a while we drove back to our hotel and settled in. 

The next day we just rested. And we went to the grocery store and bought a lot of groceries, intending to stay in the hotel, which had a kitchen, for a few days. However, on a whim, we decided to go to Branson. Why not? So we bought a small cooler and loaded up all the groceries, and the dog, and my guitar, and the Mr.'s laptop, because he was working from the road, and headed to Branson. 

Branson was nice. Not really what I expected, and yet completely what I expected. We found our hotel, and filled the much smaller fridge with all of our grocery store food, and promptly went out to eat. We found a discount  overstock store on the way and went in with the dog tucked up in his stroller, and checked it out. So. much. junk. I looked at it all, and marveled that just a few years ago I would have wanted to buy all this junk. But now, especially in light of the purging I am doing in my house, I didn't want any of it. I was happy to leave without buying a thing. We continued on to our restaurant, which was high above the banks of the White River. We sat down at an outside patio table, with the dog still in his stroller and enjoyed watching the water show below us on the river. We were blown out of our chairs a few minutes later, as the water show became a water and fire show, unexpectedly. BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! to the beat of some loud music. Once we got used to it, we quite enjoyed it. 

After we got back to our hotel, it occurred to me that we were not far from the Laura Ingalls Wilder museum and farmhouse, a bucket list item for me. I told the Mr. about it, and the next day we packed up our fridge food, again, and the dog, and the suitcases, and my guitar, and the Mr.'s laptop, and our pillows, and drove the hour and a half to the house, stopping on the way to get out at a very cool fishing spot on a large river, overlooked by trees. People were standing on the banks trout fishing, and you could see the trout in the water, still, as if suspended, not moving much in the heat of the day. We left there with a vow to come back and stay at the lodge there. It was lovely. 

The Ingalls house and museum was everything I thought it would be. It was a cool morning, actually not hot for once. I walked up to the museum door, pushing the dog in his stroller, through a garden of prairie grass and butterflies. And although they have a strict no pet policy, they saw our stroller and allowed the dog to come in. So we walked around for a couple of hours just taking it all in. I was a huge fan of the Little House books as a little girl, and of course no one who lived in the seventies missed out on the Little House series on television. This was surreal, though. I was looking at Pa's actual violin. Made in 1850 in Germany. Almost two hundred years old, and carried all the way from Wisconsin, to South Dakota, and played by Pa often in the books. And incidentally, played just last week at the Grand Ole Opry. I walked around and looked at Laura's dishes. She had good taste. Looked at the clothes she made for herself. Looked at Almanzo's watch, a beautiful thing, and all of the canes he made for himself. Looked at the clothes sister Mary made for herself, although she was blind, she could sew beautifully. Looked at the family Bibles and the famous wooden dipper bucket. Saw the famous bread plate that Laura through out the window when her house caught on fire. 

Then next door, we went into her home and looked at her pretty little yellow kitchen. Almanzo built the house for her, to her height specs, as she was only 4 ft. 11 inches tall. It took him seventeen years to complete it. She wrote the second half of her book series there, the first half in the rock house down the road that her daughter had built for them. Sadly we didn't have time to go over there and look at that, as we had to get on the road. We had decided that we would go ahead and go home today, when we were done with Laura's house. 

Our hearts were heavy as we turned toward home, our thoughts on our girls, and what life would be like once they were gone. I remembered what the pastor had said in the sermon on Sunday though, and I took comfort from that. We have to trust the Lord, even when things don't go as we would like. I knew this was true, with all of my heart, having experienced some things in the past that required that kind of trust. I know the Lord is good. My experience with things that don't go my way, is that when the experience has ended, the end result has always been far better than if I had had my way, if we trust Him. I didn't want to move to Salinas, in 2012. I didn't want the Mr. to lose his job. I didn't want his former bosses to steal all of our money out of our bank account. I didn't want to go through all the trouble of suing them, or having to declare bankruptcy, because of their actions. I didn't want my dad to have cancer, or the IRS to audit us, or my mom to have a car accident, or my dog to get run over. (It was a bad, bad, year). But in the end, after all was done. We ended up in our own home again. The Mr. had a great, great job, and the finances turned around. The bosses lost. We won. Dad recovered. Mom recovered. The dog recovered. The IRS was satisfied.  

And when the Mr. got sick, almost five years ago. I didn't know if he would live or die. The scale was tipping toward death, and quickly. He couldn't work. We had to go live in Houston. The house was, although not abandoned, left to the care of the kids, who didn't care for it at all. All seemed lost. But I trusted in the Lord. And now? Now the Mr. is in perfect health, and a man who loves the Lord, with a great job. So you see, I know that God is good. I know his plan for us is good. I know his plan for the girls is good. 

I know He will take care of them. I keep thinking about Job. The Lord gives and the Lord takes away. Blessed be the name of the Lord. 

But it still hurts. 

They will most likely be gone by Christmas. 

The Mr. wants to sell the house. 

Maybe he is right. I don't know yet. I have lost so much this year. My dad. And now my girls, I told him it's too much to think, right now, of losing my house, too. 

Besides, I just wallpapered the foyer and I'm loving it. And our contractor is coming next week to give us an estimate on a whole new living room floor. I'm very excited about this. Very. 

So what will we do after the girls are gone? We will carry on. We may get an RV and do more traveling. It remains to be seen. If there is one thing I know about the Lord, though, whatever He has in store for us, has got to be good. 

Winds of Change

I woke up in the middle of the night. And I knew. And I prayed like never before. 

To preface that though, we have to go back a day. Our son in law called us and talked to us about his job. He was currently in Montana for a week and was about to have a high level meeting with the big boss. 

We hung up with him, and went about our evening routine and then went to sleep. 

When I woke up it was dark in the room. I was wide awake. And I knew, I knew they were moving. 

When he returned he and Kat requested a meeting with us at their house. And they told us that a move was on the table, although nothing was definite, and we wouldn't know for awhile. 

Now I had been preparing myself for this moment since the moment I woke up. Or should I say the Lord had been preparing me since He woke me. My first instinct is to lose my mind. Those girls are everything to me. However, I could hear the TV pastor I sometimes listen to, in the back of my head. "Everything we have is on loan from God. Our homes, our money, our cars, our kids, our grandkids."  

I knew I was about to face a big test. A big, big test. And I wanted to pass this test, because losing any more of my mind is unthinkable. 

So I surrendered the girls to the Lord. Lord (with tears rolling down my face) They are yours. Not mine. They have to live the lives you have for them. And I have to let them go. I cannot hold onto them. 

But it was still hurting my heart. I came home from their house and just fell into the Mr.'s arms and sobbed. I think he was crying, too. 

The next day, after the meeting with the "kids" we went out to eat with the girls. I sat across from the them and just looked at them, as they ordered their chicken nuggets and fries, and I couldn't help it. Tears started rolling down my cheeks. What will I do without them? 

I was interrupted by Claire, Grandma, why are your eyes so watery (not realizing they were tears) Oh, honey, I just ate some of that hot sauce and it made my eyes water, I lied. 

My heart was just aching. So that afternoon, needing to get away, we packed a bag and took off with Frankie for South Texas. We ran away. Now to be fair, we had been talking about taking a trip, just the two of us, and this was absolutely the perfect time. No obligations, no appointments, nothing pending. So we went. The Mr. told me not to pack any clothes. We will just buy clothes. It will be fun. (We have done this once before, the leaving with no necessities, just buying along the way, and it was SO much fun) So that's what I did. Medicines, dog stuff, dog, and guitar, phones, and laptop so the Mr. could work on the road. And we left. No sooner had we left than the Mr. looked over at me and asked me Did you pack me some shirts? Uh, NO, you said don't pack! Well I thought you would at least throw a couple of shirts in the suitcase. Nope. I had to laugh. 

We spent a week driving around the beach in a golf cart, buying clothes and hats, and shopping for snacks, eating out on restaurant patios, (because of the dog) and had a grand old time. We watched the giant freighters coming into port, watched the shore birds dig for shore bugs, and I people watched from my fourth story hotel room window, and played my guitar every day, quietly, of course. It was really hot. As hot as it was at home, only add the humidity because of the ocean. We were on an island surrounded by ocean, so it was like being in a giant sauna. But we had a good time. 

Eventually, reluctantly, it was time to go home. So we packed up and headed back, now with a bursting suitcase and a heart full of memories. 

I have never dreaded coming home. This was a first. I could have stayed a month just to avoid what I felt was coming. But I had to face it. My kids might be moving. And I couldn't do a thing about it. 

But when we got here, things weren't so bad. Except for the heat. The heat is bad. No rain all summer. Everything is dying. And so dry. 

And nobody mentioned moving. I thought maybe they just didn't want to tell me, but turns out that was not the case. One day, outright, I asked my daughter if they had made a decision and she was candid with me. No, we haven't heard back, and they probably won't offer him enough for us to move, anyway. 

I was relieved for the moment, but I didn't allow myself to get too comfortable with the thought that they weren't going anywhere. It's still on the table. 

But I'm doing Ok. I pray about it every day. That God would move them if it's his will, and that he will keep them here if it's not meant to be. 

You see, I know how hard it is, because I did it. During Matt's senior year, and Ally's freshman year, when Kat was just nineteen, we uprooted everybody and left for California, for a job. We were there eight months and it was awful. Beyond awful. The Mr. lost his job and we had spent all of our money getting there. Somebody else was living in our home. We had no money to come home and no home to go to. The fabric of our marriage stretched and just about came apart. Finally we were able to come home, the occupant of our home, that would be the Mr.'s brother, was moving out. I told myself I would never do that again. So I know what the "kids" are up against. I know the heartaches and the stresses. I wouldn't wish it on anyone. But if they are determined to go, then they will go with my blessing. I know the Lord will take care of them, and especially my (not so) Baby Grands. 

The next week, I was determined to be at church, with the girls. We almost didn't make it though, because the Mr. was feeling bad. I decided to go by myself with the girls and let him rest at home. So we went. 

It was baptismal Sunday. We talked a little bit about baptism while we waited for service to begin. I explained to them what it was, and told them that I had been baptized, and that their Mom had been baptized, too. 

Service started and the teacher came for them, for children's church. I knew they would be watching the baptism from the balcony, so I looked for them when it was time. There were the little kids, peeping over the edge. I could see their teacher, talking to them, quietly. 

I watched the participants, for lack of a better word, and thought to myself, wouldn't it be wonderful if the girls were interested in this? They aren't too young, and they have both received Jesus...)

I put the thought from my mind and listened to the preacher and then service was over. 

I went out to get the girls from their teacher. There was Arya, the first one out, and Claire wasn't far behind. Grandma, I want to be baptized! I was taken aback. Are you serious, or just kidding around? She was serious. I don't know if it was because there was a child that was baptized that day, who was around six or so, or if it was the talk we had before hand, or just that God was speaking to her, but she was determined. We found the teacher, and then the pastor and it's arranged. This Sunday Claire will be baptized. 

Today we did a little Bible homework for kids, something the teacher dropped off for her yesterday, and I made sure she understood what it was about. Truly, I don't think she fully grasps, at seven years of age the deep nuances, but she grasps enough of it, that I feel confident in helping her move forward with this. She has had a salvation experience. She has demonstrated things that God has told her, profound things, that I didn't tell her. She loves Jesus. I think she is ready. She is young. But she is ready. 

Update on the foyer painting situation: I finished painting all the panels in my foyer coral. I painted all the trim molding gold, well, almost all of it. Still have some to go. I was loving it. Even the Mr. was digging it. And then. And then...I had this fabulous idea. William Morris wallpaper. So I looked to see if there was such a thing. And behold, there is! And Lo, so I bought some! It's peel and stick. I have never done this before but I started it last night and it. is. stunning! It is the blue of the living room with yellow tulips. It is only on the lower panels, so as not to fight with the pictures that will be on the upper panels. However...And this is still a secret. Don't tell the Mr...I have decided the coral needs to be yellow. I can't believe I am saying this. I have spent months on this room and it is nearing completion, and I'm changing it. Again. But I think it will be so much lovlier. The coral is a nice contrast with the wallpaper and even the cool blue green of the living room. However, hello, YELLOW! Even the Mr., who was opposed to me spending so much money on the wallpaper loves it. He called it stunning. Imagine how great it would be for the wall color to actually match the wallpaper? And yes, I am totally talking myself into it, right here on this blog. 

My goodness, it has been QUITE a week!

Boot Camp Love Letters

 So the house purge continues, slowly, very slowly. I have now completed my entire bedroom, every cubby, nook, cranny, and closet. I have thrown away loads of stuff that has been bloating my house for years. I had taken a couple of days off to work on the painting in my foyer, which is nearing completion, but today I was right back at it, in my closet. In the process I came across my love letters from boot camp, followed by love and life letters during West Pac cruise three years later. I read through all the boot camp letters, sitting back in my recliner, from 35 years onward and it was very strange. I read about what I hoped our future would be like, prophetically, I had written that I knew we would spend a lot of time apart. Little did I know that 30 of our 35f so far years would be spent passing like ships in the night. I was kind of taken aback by my immaturity. I mean, I guess there aren't too many 23 year olds sporting great wisdom, but I seemed to be a very silly kind of girl. There was even a letter in which I mentioned that my Dad and Joyce were trying to get me to have a traditional type wedding, but I was not all about conventional "rules". Good Lord! I am ALL about conventional rules! I didn't know myself! A lot of it was about the practical side of weddings. I wanted a church wedding, but I didn't want the marriage counseling. *Note to "Young"er self (see what I did there?) Get the marriage counseling. GET THE MARRIAGE COUNSELING. 

I read a few of the letters from the West Pacific cruise, three years, and two kids later. I was considerably more mature. Six months of living with his parents while he sailed aboard the USS Nimitz, with two children under three, grew me up. In one letter I stated I would lose my mind if Matthew barfed on his mother's kitchen table one more time. I fell over laughing. It must have seemed so serious at the time, and sick kids ARE serious, but the way I phrased that, just so matter of fact was very funny. 

I came across a letter written about the kids getting their Christmas pictures made, and it was also, too funny. Katie was almost three, Matt was 14 months, and we were with a friend and her 14 month old. We were at Sears and trying to keep control of three children under three was like herding cats. 

Matthew escaped into the general shopping area. Then Katie had a tantrum. Then Matthew made another break for freedom. Finally we had them all together and then the photographer let the back drop fall suddenly and all three kids lost their minds. But the pictures did come out wonderful, despite that. And I survived. 

And then there was this little gem I came across in the BCLL, referring to an incident involving my sisters and my mother. I fell back in my chair laughing, because I could so see them in my mind, as this situatation transpired. 

"My sister was telling me something I thought was REALLY funny, and I thought you might think it was funny, too, if I told you. Heather was telling me about when they lived on Cherry St., in Sherman, and they lived in this HUGE rambling old (wreck of a) house. I was living with Auntie, I guess. She said one day, she just sort of moseyed on over to her dresser get a shirt, and this HUGE BIRD, I guess it was a crow, that had somehow got in and was hiding behind her dresser (just waiting for her to saunter casually up to the dresser) flew right directly into her face! Well, she just started screaming and ran down the stairs as fast as she could. Emily! Emily! There's a BIRD in my room! Well, so Emily says, "Yeah, right, a bird?" And goes into Heather's room, and two seconds later comes barreling down the stairs (I was in absolute tears while she was telling me this.)  MOM! There's a bird in Heather's room! So my mom is saying "A bird? Yeah, right, what's the matter with you girls?" So she goes in there and the next thing Heather and Emily see is mom running down the stairs after this bird, yelling at the top of her lungs, "SHEW, SHEW! GET OUT OF MY HOUSE, YOU BIRD! Get out, get out, get OUT!" (Why did I spell shew that way? I was tempted to correct it, but left it, because it's funnier that way.) 

And she shewed the bird right out the front door! While flapping her arms all around. 

On another note, we have had school duty every day this week, including one night that the girls stayed the night. Things are a little different now with the morning routine, because they go to two different schools. They are becoming very self regulated now. They brush their own hair, although they still need it to be gone over. They choose their own clothes. They don't need much help. Getting out the door on time has not been even a little bit of a trial. Getting up so early is most certainly a trial, but we only have one more morning duty this week, and we are done. We have nothing upcoming this week, so the Mr. and I might sneak off somewhere for a couple of days and not tell anyone. We have been working hard around the house the last couple of weeks, getting things done. The gigantic tree on the side of our house, the one that keeps dropping huge limbs, was cut down today. I was sad to see it go, but I will never have to worry about it falling on the neighbors, or our own house, again. It was sick and dying, and last year a huge chunk of it did fall on the neighbor's house, and in a miraculous show of God's divine power, it did no damage. Where it hit the house was in an 18 inch space between the window and the front wall of the porch. It made a little nick in the paint. 

Today the "fast" tree people showed up at 8 Am, and they had most of the tree down within the hour. They tallest part, what was left of the tree that fell last year, crowned by a remnant of still living leaves was what remained and it was the hardest part. I wondered how they would do it, as I sat from my excellent vantage point on the patio in the back yard. I took a sip of coffee and opened my Bible, when out of the corner of my eye, I saw it begin to fall. With a sickening thud, I heard it land on the neighbors house. I jumped up and ran, as fast as these old arthritic legs could go! I got to the front and saw the head guy, and he said, There was an accident. 

I jumped over the stump and looked at the disaster before me, but it was not a disaster. Once again, the tree had just shaved the house, taking off part of the Crepe Myrtle in front of the porch, and completely obliterating the trash can that had been in the yard. But the house was untouched. Thank God! 

The internet cable was trashed. The trash can was trashed. But the house was spared. 

I wondered, why. on. Earth. anyone in his right mind would cut a huge tree like that from the bottom. I have seen lots of trees cut down. Usually someone climbs the tree and cuts the small branches first. Not these guys. Living up to the name Fast they just went for gold. Just chopped it down. From the bottom. True, they did have a rope tied to their truck. I guess somebody didn't hit the gas fast enough when the tree started going, and it went down at the wrong angle. 

But they had it cleaned up within the hour. And an hour after that they were gone. They took care of the damaged crepe, the Mr. popped out the trashcan, and called the boss to make sure they got the internet back on for the neighbors and all was well. But, we won't be recommending them to anyone, even if they are licensed, bonded, and insured. 

Tomorrow we have the girls again, and the contractor will be finishing up on the soffit repair. The soffit has been held together for about three years now with flex seal, which I must say has done a dandy job. The mower guy will be coming, as it's been five weeks since he has made his rounds, and the yard is looking like a jungle. 

I will be working on the foyer again. I know my sister will be absolutely appalled, but there is quite a lot of gold paint going up in there, and I have been walking around the house touching things up with this very gold paint I got from Amazon. It's Folk Art, and I really didn't like it at first but it's really growing on me. It's hard to describe what I have been doing with it, but when it's done I will share a picture. 

Very. Gold. That's all I will say. I can hear Emily gagging all the way from Virginia. But maybe I may yet win her over. 

Matthew just came up and told me their is a lunar eclipse happening at this very minute. So I had better go see it. 

Mouse War Diaries

 

Mouse War Diaries...an accumulation of some Facebook posts I made, detailing my fight with the vermin that lives without, but would like to live within. I am putting this together many years later, and all of the posts are not there, so there are some gaps. Bear with me, it's pretty funny, despite the gaps. 

AAAAAAGGGGHHHH A MOUSE JUST CAME OUT OF MY CLOSET!!! WHAT DO I DO????? Dec 9, 2014

I must have laid out some traps, here, but there is no post about it to be found...just this...

My worst nightmare...he ate a lot of the bait, but not one of those silly traps went off...Ugh...another day of mouse hunting...Dec 10, 2014

So...when I started taking the stuff out of my closet (where I first saw the mouse) I got my picture frames (which were against the wall) moved, and there behind the frames were four or five perfectly placed pieces of dog food, all in a row, all lined up against the wall...hmmm...I know the dogs didn't do that...Dec 11, 2014

War Diary, day 3.

All is quiet on the mouse front this morning, but that doesn't mean we can rest on our laurels after yesterday's victories. Today will be spent refortifying the fort walls, patching up any holes in our defenses, and rebaiting the traps in case the enemy creeps into our territory. We look forward to the day that victory is ours.

The Mr. did a very silly thing last night. He opened up the "mouse" closet and threw his shorts in without thinking, right on top of all those mousetraps. This morning I came in the bedroom and saw him wearing those shorts...I told him to turn around...sure enough, he was sporting a mousetrap on his backside. Hmmm...maybe I shouldn't have said anything. Would have been interesting when he went to sit down...

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War Diary. Day 4. All is quiet. There was no activity from the enemy yesterday, that we are aware of. The traps remain empty and the troops remain on the ready if they are needed. Meanwhile yesterday was spent repairing defenses that had fallen into disrepair. I confess that after eleven years of enemy submission, we had become somewhat lax in our vigilance against the opposition. No more. Hatches have been battened; holes have been filled, cracks have been repaired. Today we rest, but we are alert and ready for action, should any evil vermin enter our domain.

War Diary. Day # 5. Still quiet, with no sounds coming from the enemy's camp all night. We are not, however, lulled into complacency, but ever on the alert. Maybe too much on the alert, as both of us jumped at the same time in the middle of the night, thinking we heard a trap spring...however upon inspection all the traps were still set and waiting, right where we left them...could be part of the enemy's game plan to get us to neglect the killing fields, thinking we are once again mistaken (You know, like the boy who cried "mouse" LOL)

...But we will not be fooled, friends, we will not be fooled.

War diary. Day #5 (or is it day #6? We have lost track of time down here in the trenches). No sound from the enemy camp in several days. Wondering if we have indeed vanquished our foe, or if they are just biding their time, waiting to catch us off guard. We had a bit of excitement last night, at around midnight, when someone rolled a tiny dog ball across the room. It entered the closet and set off a volley of friendly fire, as it hit the row of traps set up inside the door. It was unexpected and set the troops laughing. Spirits are high. Victory is in sight.

 War Diaries: Day 63. Dead of winter. The winds are howling around my windows, but I am snug and warm in my bed. Pitch black in the bedroom, and no sound other than the beagle, snoring from his bed in the corner. I am on the edge of sleep when hear a soft "clink" sound, the sound of something hard touching glass. It's an unmistakable sound. My eyes pop open in the dark. I hear it again. The dogs are unmoving, lost in their warm slumber. All is quiet again. Slowly I rise in the dark, careful not to wake the others in the camp, slip from the bed and across the room to my tiny flashlight, my ally in these times of war. I flip it on and shine it toward the glass dog food bowl in the corner. I am unable to locate the enemy. I shine it under the closet door, and slowly walk over and open the door and turn the light on. I still don't see anything. But I know...I know they are there...There were some nuggets of dog food left in the bowl, uneaten since her last meal. I pick the bowl up off the floor, set it on a high dresser, and lay down, ever alert, but still unsure of what I heard. We have once again allowed ourselves to become lackadaisical in our fight. The old traps are long gone, having sat loaded and untouched for weeks and weeks in the killing fields. Thrown out with the garbage, we were sure we had won. This morning The Mr. took the first watch. As he sat in his chair, he saw it...The enemy ran out of the closet...made a loop around the dog food bag...and then back in the closet, confirming my worst suspicion...They have returned...

War Diaries Day 63 part 2. I took the second watch of the day. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the enemy emerge, his furry brown body shot like lightening across the room and under the dresser. I can't believe I didn't scream like a little girl. Watched The Mr. take towels and close off the bottoms of the closets and the bedroom so the little bugger can't get out...He is trapped...The Mr., armed with two potholders has decided to save time, just to "catch him" himself...This could be interesting...

War Diaries day 64: Pitch dark, again on the edge of sleep. The enemy has not been sighted since this morning, but I know he is there...and I am ready. My eyes are so heavy, nodding off...BANG! Everybody jumps! Ha! got him. However I don't think he came alone...So we reload..and we wait again...

War Diaries: Day 65. I have identified the reason for the recent influx of enemy troops, and have removed the problem. It seems our supply clerk got tired of making endless errands to the commissary for dog food, and took it upon himself to order fifty pounds of Purina, and have it delivered to our camp. It has been sitting in our barracks, for several months. We have drawn the enemy's attention, just as surely as the *4077* drew the attention of "Five O' Clock Charlie" when they rolled that cannon into the camp. The dog food, which has been relocated, has also been secured, and it's just a matter of time before "Five O' Clock Charlie" moves on somewhere else. Supply Clerk has been sent to the Brig for ten days of bread and water. All is quiet on the front. Carry On.

Mouse War Diaries: Day #1489. Unexpectedly,

They have returned. Bigger, Badder, Browner. And unafraid. Walking across the mess hall this afternoon, I was pursued at top speed into the common area. I ran. I screamed. I jumped like a little girl on top of a chair. But, my friend, oh yes, reinforcements have come. And yes, once again, we will beat them, not just into submission, but into oblivion. The comrades will be sorry they have come.

Mouse War Diaries day 2,477. The Enemy Returns: It was quite by accident that we learned we had once again been invaded by the small, unwelcome forces. We had been unaware that they were again among us, until, rounding the kitchen entry, I saw the furry missel dart into my laundry room. We immediately fell into our past plan of action, which had never failed yet to rid us of the alien creatures. We laid out our traps, laced with delicacies no self respecting mouse could resist. Peanut butter with embedded dog food. We knew we would be the victors. However we seriously underestimated our opponents. One day later, on my rounds of the perimeter, I was astonished to find that the dog food had been carefully removed and the PB was still there. And the trap was still set. I think the enemy was toying with us. Hmmm ,what to do, what to do. It was the same with the other trap. Clearly we would have to up our game. I sent Captain Stephenson to supply to get a bigger trap. He came home with a mammoth sized trap. Scary looking. He very gingerly handled it, like a grenade without a pin in it careful not to get his fingers in the way of the fuse. Then he pushed it far back in a corner where baby fingers and happy dog tongues could not reach. And we waited. This morning, groggy with sleep, I carefully peered into the corner, afraid of what I would find. My sleepy eyes popped open in disbelief as I realized that very fat wad of balled up Kraft cheese with a PB topping...was gone! And the trap.was.still.set. clearly we are dealing with a superior being. Not just any mouse. As I stood there staring in complete disbelief I swear I could hear the echo of his laughter, as he flipped me the bird. What.the.heck! Stay tuned. Tonight we shall up the ante...Update; 17:00 hours, Central Time Zone. We caught the little devil!

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Shared with Your friendsWar Diary. Day 4. All is quiet. There was no activity from the enemy yesterday, that we are aware of. The traps remain empty and the troops remain on the ready if they are needed. Meanwhile yesterday was spent repairing defenses that had fallen into disrepair. I confess that after eleven years of enemy submission, we had become somewhat lax in our vigilance against the opposition. No more. Hatches have been battened; holes have been filled, cracks have been repaired. Today we rest, but we are alert and ready for action, should any evil vermin enter our domain.