A Total Eclipse of the Sun

The "path of totality" for the total eclipse on August 21st passed right over Green Acres (our little spot in the country).  Every motel room in the nearby town was booked more than a year in advance. RV's, campers and tents filled the city parks. The city closed off 2 blocks of downtown and restaurants served lunch at picnic tables during the eclipse.  School was out for the day; churches served food; local businesses ran specials.  It's estimated that 2000 visitors came to town - that's a lot for a town that boasts 4500 permanent residents.  We elected to avoid the "crowds" and host our own Eclipse Party for our employees and their spouses.

I served "Eclipse-iladas" (normally called enchiladas), followed by eclipse-themed goodies like Milky Way, Starburst, and Star Crunch.  Beverages included Sunkist Orange soda, Sunny-D, Capri Sun juice boxes and Pepsi Fire.

We even had a playlist of sun/moon themed songs, including  "Moon River", "House of the Rising Sun", and "Don't Let the Sun Go Down on Me."

 The crew arrived as the eclipse began - about 11:30 - and we lunched in the growing dusk.  And then the big moment arrived - the approximately 2 and a half minutes of totality - during which we saw . . . absolutely nothing.  It had rained off-and-on all morning and the clouds never parted to give us so much as a glimpse of the sun.

We did get to see the 360-degree sunset that occurs with a total eclipse.  I tried not to waste the experience taking pictures, but I did snap this shot of sunset in the North.  

Though the darkness at mid-day was amazing, I am disappointed that I didn't get to see the actual eclipse.  I had never given any thought to seeing an eclipse, but after weeks of preparation and research for one that happened to cross my path, I'm now determined to see one.  So I'm vacation planning for 2024, when a total eclipse will move from southern Texas, up through Maine.  Maybe this will be my chance to finally visit Maine.

Memories

In my on-going quest for non-overstuffed closets and cabinets, I am participating in the city-wide garage sale this weekend.  Toward that end, I drug some boxes out of the basement storage room - boxes that haven't been opened since we moved to this house six years ago.  One box was some bric-a-brac of my Grandma's.  With some encouragement from my wise mother, I was able to choose a few meaningful items to keep and let go of the rest. 

The second box was mementos from my children's preschool and grade school days.  After an hour of tears as I reread "You're the best mom ever!" and "My mom is as pretty as a princess," they all went back into the box, to be brought out another day when I need a good cry. 

Also in that box were two thin, paperback books - "A Gift of Memories from Grandma/Grandpa".  I gave these books to my maternal grandparents when I was newly married and asked them to complete them.  Grandpa's Parkinson's Disease was advanced enough at that point that writing was difficult, so most of his answers are one or two words, but there are some wonderful insights and a few humorous stories. 

"Grandpa, if you were elected President, what would you do for our country?"   "I would outlaw green peppers in salads."

Grandma told a story of hiding in a patch of tall grass as a child, and listening to the whole family searching for her.  She also admitted to some cooking fiascoes in her newlywed days.  

I wish I had taken the time to visit with them about their answers - to ask more questions and get more details - but when you're twenty-two, you think there will always be time. Even as incomplete as they are, the books are precious.  They were repacked with the other items for another round of memories another day.

Not long after my day of memories, I was browsing Barnes and Noble and picked up "Mom, Tell Me Your Story" a guided journal by Susan Branch. This memory book is much more in-depth, with spaces for full-page answers, rather than a word or two. 

Some are straight forward questions:

Where did your family go on vacation?
Who were your childhood friends?
What did you have then that we don't use any more?

And some are going to take more thought:

What did you dream about while growing up?
As you matured, what kinds of things inspired you?
What is your best advice about relationships?
What should I know about having children?
What would you most like to be remembered for?

Writing my own story is a challenge that is both exciting and frightening.  I'm not shooting for a professional memoir, but I do want to write more than cursory facts.  I want to give my children some genuine insight into being a child in the 60's and 70's, a young wife in the 80's, a stay-at-home mom in the 90's -  a true picture of their mom, flaws and all. But also some some stories that they'll enjoy finding and re-finding.  My plan is to work on it bit by bit.  Maybe I'll present it to my kids when I'm 60 - or maybe 70 - or 80.  After all, there's always plenty of time, right? 

Going Tiny?

When this tiny cabin made the rounds on Facebook and Pinterest a couple years ago, I saw it as the perfect hide away - a place to retreat from the world temporarily.   It was the first I had heard of the oncoming trend toward full-time tiny house living.  

Now that there are so many options for affordable, available small homes, I'm fascinated with the idea of downsizing.  I'm probably not ready for life with Hubs and two dogs in a house this small (or white), but I could learn to love the tiny house life...couldn't I?  The biggest attraction is simplicity.  

Less space requires less stuff.  Less stuff takes less time to clean and maintain.  Less time on housework means more time to do the things I enjoy.  But where?  Does my tiny home have room for a sewing machine or an artist's easel?  And what about my books?

One solution is to make use of outdoor living space.   Reading or hosting a dinner party on a patio or rooftop deck sound so inviting, but only in temperate weather - which happens approximately 30 days/year in Kansas and Nebraska.  Could I move to a state that doesn't have four distinct seasons?  

Speaking of less stuff, I have gone through my current home, which isn't exactly huge, and culled out everything I considered excess, but there's still a lot of stuff that isn't used daily.  I struggle to let go of the "good" dishes or the "good" table linens.   What do tiny-home owners do with Christmas decorations?  

Maybe my perspective on "stuff" is what really needs to be purged.  Maybe that al fresco dinner party would be just as enjoyable if served on the same dishes I use every day - or paper plates.  If I could remove the sentiment from objects - see them as tools to accomplish the necessities of life rather than having intrinsic value - the downsizing process would be easier.  

Living in a tiny home would be financially rewarding.  The cut in mortgage/rent, utilities, upkeep and insurance would make funds available for travel, charity and upgrading our remaining possessions.  If I only have space for dinnerware for 8, make them good quality and beautiful.  

Then there's the issue of guests . . . 

We probably won't start tiny-house hunting today, and "tiny" is relative - but it's an idea I can't completely escape.

That's Progress!

When I was a child, one of my favorite things was to visit the "Variety Store" while my mom was at the grocery store down the street.  Mom handed out three nickels to three little girls and we slowly perused the candy choices in the glass cabinet.  Snickers, Reeses Peanut Butter Cup, Milky Way, maybe a chewy Bit-O-Honey, or M&M's.  Or how about licorice sticks, Tootsie Rolls and Bazooka Bubblegum - two for a penny.  The choices seemed infinite.

A few days ago, I browsed a convenience store candy aisle for a little treat with my gas fill-up.  The choices weren't infinite, they were overwhelming!  Snickers, Snickers Bites, Snickers Almond, Snickers Peanut Butter Squares, Snicker's Ice Cream Bars, Snickers Eggs, Snickers 2 Go, Snickers Fun Size, Snickers Miniatures, Snickers King Size.  And that was just one brand.

The same comparison can be made with television channels.  In the 60's and 70's we had four channels (if the weather was clear) - ABC, CBS, NBC and PBS.  When we got married in the early 80's, we got cable and expanded our lineup to about twenty channels.  Today we have hundreds of channels.  The time required to sift through them all uses up all of our viewing time, so we usually just watch the same four or five channels.

Eating out used to mean visiting a locally-owned restaurant.  Today, every city has block after block of franchised eating choices - from burgers to steak to pizza to sushi.  Children no longer go home from school to play with the other kids in their neighborhood.  They choose from sports, martial arts, music,  gymnastics, dance and dozens of other activities.  The expansion of options also applies to gas stations, car manufacturers, and even beer.

I didn't need shelf after shelf of sweets at the convenience store.  To me, it was "noise".   The volume and pace of life has increased a hundred-fold in the last fifty years.  And so has the accompanying  exhaustion.  Stress relief has become a mammoth business. 

Ironically, one of the newest trends in stress management is to simplify - downsize, live smaller, have fewer choices.  Maybe progress isn't all it's cracked up to be.

A Spacious Place

from Grace Notes *

I'm going to use the blog as a bit of a therapy journal, so if you have your life completely together and don't understand those of us who don't, this post probably isn't for you.  If you are stumbling along, like me, this post still may not interest you.  In fact, this post may be entirely for my own benefit - but it's my blog, so I can do that.

"He brought me out into a spacious place." - Psalm 18:19

I've spent my life hemmed in by expectations - expectations for being a wife, expectations for being a stay-at-home mom, expectations for being a mother of teens, expectations for being a daughter, a sister, a friend, a church member . . .

When I was working outside our home, the job carried expectations, but someone was paying me for those hours and they had the right to expect specific skills, tasks and duties in exchange for their money.

Some of the expectations are self-inflicted.  Some are societal.  Some - usually the strongest - are intentionally imposed by others.  And some are the random result of life circumstances.  

Picture life as a room - a generous-sized room.  At first the room was occupied by me, my parents and my sister.  Then grandparents came to visit, followed by another sister, aunts, uncles and cousins.  We all fit comfortably.  Soon there were neighbors, schoolmates, teachers, pastors, and friends.  There was still plenty of room for the people, but now they each carried some expectations for me.  How they expected me to behave, how they expected me to perform at school, how they expected me to interact. These expectations gave me security.  After all I was a child, unable to navigate alone - I needed their guidelines.

As time passed, my world expanded and more people pressed into the room, bringing more expectations, and things started to get a bit crowded.  Expectations had to shift and some got shoved into the corners because I needed space for my own developing expectations.  However, since they all remained in the room, my expectations for myself had to form around them.

Some expectations naturally left when their period of life was over, but newer, bigger, less flexible ones always took their place.  The bar set for third-grade math scores was replaced by the rules of safe driving, a much more rigid bar.  Much-awaited adulthood came with a surprising mound of expectations that demanded top billing.  The room of life was bulging.  There was no space for me to stretch out and be completely comfortable any more. No matter which way I stretched, I bumped, dented or hid someone's expectations, and they began to complain.

I've made attempts, some successful and some not, to "spring clean" and purge my life of unwanted expectations.  My grandparents have been gone for many years and, while their expectations are forever engraved in me, they no longer require their own floor-space in the room.  My parents' expectations have been fulfilled and shrunk as we begin the inevitable shift of aging.  And I have come to realize that some of the societal expectations were only in the room because I was too scared to let them out.

As I approach another birthday in a couple weeks, I have been feeling suffocated by fifty-five years of expectational baggage crammed into every nook, cranny and closet of life.  I have heard two voices in the last week telling me that it's time to "Let it go".  First my daughter, - half my age but, so often, twice my wisdom - said "My dream for you, Mom, is confidence."  I used to have confidence; I know I did.  I think that in one of our frequent moves, it got misplaced between the never-ending community expectations for the "new girl", my children's reasonable expectation of a solid foundation on which to build their own "room of life", and squeezing myself in to make way as my husband expanded his expectations for our new chapter of life.  

The second voice telling me to "Let it go" was God's.  "I have brought you out into a spacious place.  The only expectations here are Mine, and they are surprisingly light.  In this place, there is room for more than expectations.  There is space to dance, to create, to relax, to give with no expectations of return, to allow others to live without carrying the burden of your expectations.  There is space to focus on Me.  There is room to bloom in grace."

*Picture from Kelly @ Grace Notes.  I encourage you to visit her page and read her more elequent thoughts on Psalm 18:19.

The Servant Queen

Today is Queen Elizabeth II's 90th birthday.  I am a great fan of Her Majesty.  She is a model of decorum, devotion, and duty.  What you may not know is that she is also a model of faith.  I am so impressed by her, that I gave away twenty copies of "The Servant Queen and the King She Serves" to church members and family.  I thought I would share a few of my favorite quotes.

"The Queen's work is an expression of her desire to serve others.  She is not a hired servant who is required to do lots of tasks; she is a Queen who chooses to serve her people through doing the work that will best contribute to the nation's health."

"In an age when we are besieged by armies of celebrities telling us about almost every aspect of their lives in a variety of media, the Queen has kept most of her thoughts to herself... Curiously, that is not the case about her faith in Jesus.  About Jesus, she has been remarkably, one might say, uncharacteristically open about what she believes."

"Indeed, one of the most remarkable things about the Queen is her consistency of character.  Despite unprecedented levels of relentless media scrutiny for her entire life, there has never been a whiff of scandal about the Queen herself... She has a strong and happy marriage to a man she clearly respects and whose company she enjoys."

"She has had a gruelling travel and work schedule for over 60 years, but... there are no reliable recorded incidents of the Queen losing her temper, using bad language, or refusing to carry out a duty expected of her."

During her Coronation in 1953, the Archbishop annointed the Queen by pouring holy oil onto her hands, her chest and her head - "to show she is being set apart to serve and love her people in all her actions, with all her heart and with all her mind. . . She follows the example of Christ who was also...set apart, not to be served, but to serve."

I know the Queen is not, technically, a political figure.  She has no power to make or enforce laws.  But can you image if we had political leaders who shared her attitude toward duty and service?  

How has Queen Elizabeth II continued to display that attitude day after day in the face of wars, family scandals, age and everything else she has faced?  Here is the answer in her own words:

"Each day is a new beginning.  I know that the only way to live my life is to try to do what is right, to take the long view, to give of my best in all that the day brings, and to put my trust in God."

You can purchase a copy of The Servant Queen and the King She Serves here.  They are considerably cheaper in lots of ten.  The prices are given in British Pounds.  I'm not entirely sure of the exchange rate, but they came out to be around $1.25/copy when I ordered twenty.

Things I've Learned . . .

1,  Helping repair the lawn mower is more fun if you insist that your husband request tools using the names of medical instruments.  Searching for a 7/16" wrench, as opposed to a 1/2" wrench, is not particularly captivating. " Scalpel! Clamp! Extractor!" is so much more entertaining, although it does tend to annoy the husband doing the repairs.

2. Taxes are more fun if you're getting a refund.  I guess that's not a new revelation, but it's been awhile since I dealt with it.  Owning our own business turned taxes into an entirely new monster. Appointments with the accountant, forms I had never heard of, and a return that required the heavy-duty stapler, after 30+ years of short forms put a new twist on the first quarter of 2016.  The fact that I even think in quarters is a sign of the radical changes in my life.  However - I have survived our first year in business without going to prison for mangling a myriad of tax laws, so that's a celebration in itself.

3. Playing the Candy Land board game with a 6-year-old is more fun when you are 54 and don't care that the laundry isn't folded, than it was when you were 34 and felt the need to be productive.  When our children outgrew the classic board game, I was so worn out with it that I put it - along with Chutes and Ladders - in the donation box for the thrift store and vowed to never play again.  Some twenty years later, I re-purchased both games to play with Miss P., a beautiful girl who spends time with us occasionally.

4. 6-year-olds don't care if you run like the arthritic, uncoordinated nerd that you are, as long as you are participating in a water-gun fight.   Some 50-cent squirt guns and the willingness to "run" about
hiding behind trees and vehicles, brought out some priceless grins and giggles.

5. Doing even the smallest kindness for someone else makes the whole day better.

6. Be careful when you ask a child to sing you a song to fill time in the car. They may create a song about loving you forever and the tears make it difficult to drive.  Miss P. melts my heart!

Hope you have learned some good things recently.

Spring Fling

New Spring craft love -
 watercolor on fabric.
 Post coming soon.

Officially, Spring is still a few weeks away, but the temperature is slowly climbing, the geese are headed north (honking loudly over my house) and the daffodils are peaking through the ground.  In honor of all things Spring-ish, my sister, Teri, is hosting a Spring Fling on her blog today.  She's planning her flower garden, issuing some fun challenges, sharing some craft ideas and generally celebrating Spring.  Check in and join the fun - I promise, you will not be required to do any spring cleaning.

Her first question was "What are you planting?"  I have my garden seed order ready - tomatoes, green beans, cucumbers, cantaloupe and potatoes.  In the flower beds, I'm adding sunflowers for a touch of Kansas, which will always be home in my heart.  

My entry for the first Spring Fling challenge - a picture from my garden:

One of my favorites - Marigolds.  Love the variety of colors,
not to mention the fact that even I can't kill them. 

The Mystery in the Cemetery

My sister texted me this afternoon and instructed me to go to the local cemetery at 3:30 and await further instructions.  Whaaaat?  Has she been reading too many Nancy Drew novels?  But - Big Sis said go, so I went.

That's my car, parked at the cemetery gate.  Beautiful day for sitting in a graveyard!

I received further instructions via text:  my contact would arrive in a gold Pontiac within ten minutes.  A clandestine meeting with a stranger in a cemetery?  I questioned if I needed to flash my lights or otherwise signal the mysterious Pontiac, so they would know "it's on".  (Maybe I've seen The Hangover too many times.)  Surely he/she would need a way to identify me among all the other cars parked in the cemetery at 3:30 on a Friday afternoon.  Sis thought a cheerful smile and wave would be the perfect signal.

So I waited . . . I assessed all the entrances and exits, in case I needed to make a quick escape . . . I synchronized my watch with the car clock . . . I checked the reception on my shoe phone (if you are too young to recognized the reference, check NetFlix for Get Smart reruns) . . . I read some headstones . . . until a gold van turned into the drive.  "The Pontiac has landed", I texted Sis.  The van door slid open and out came . . .

. . . an undercover florist! 

Well, maybe not so undercover, since I knew her, but she did step out holding these beautiful roses -- for me!  

So why is the florist delivering my flowers in a cemetery?  Because I live in the boonies.  The florist is located in a town about 10 miles from my house and they don't normally make deliveries to rural addresses.  But, she had promised a distant customer she would deliver a Valentine wreath to their loved-one's grave in the cemetery near my house, so she agreed to deliver my arrangement at the same time.  Only in a small town!

Thank you, Sis, for setting up a little intrigue for your mystery-loving sister and cheering up my afternoon. 

Though She Be But Little . . .

Image courtesy of balmtomysoul.com

"Top Ten Tips for bringing out the best in a strong-willed child"

"The tools you need to successfully manage your child’s behavior"

"Time-proven methods for dealing with misbehavior"

These are just a sampling of the promises made by books for parents raising a strong-willed child.  Twenty-some years ago, we read them all - and laughed.  These people did not have a clue what "strong-willed" meant.  We were raising a daughter that took "power struggles" to a level these authors couldn't conceive.  

I don't mean to give you a picture of a demon-child with glowing eyes and her head spinning around backwards.  She was (and still is) a beautiful girl who was loving, compassionate and just plain adorable.  But when she made up her mind to do (or not do) something, her will became an impenetrable wall, and I spent hours, days, weeks pounding my head against that wall.  

In spite of our frustration, we understood that her strength and determination were part of how God created her; and since He does not do things randomly, He had a reason beyond what we could see.  About age 17, she began to mature into her iron will, and emerged from college as a woman who can focus that resolve.  Along the way, I learned to avoid the self-inflicted headaches and marvel at the things she can accomplish.

Amanda now works for a treatment foster care agency.  Her clients are the children who have been so severely abused and neglected that they require therapy and more specialized care than standard foster care can provide.  There are no words for the level of depravity and torture these little ones have endured.  Advocating for these children is a stressful and painful job, and I fear for the physical and mental effects it has on Amanda, but I also stand in awe.  

Amanda called a few weeks ago to tell us that she had been offered a promotion.   Her boss praised her as "a natural" at this job - for not being afraid to stand up and have a voice.  And there it was - the reason God created our strong-willed child. The "impenetrable wall" that wore me out now stands between innocent children and the people who have irrevocably harmed them.  It stands against a system that is so overloaded that what is best for the children often gets drown out by what is expedient.

Would I prefer that she had a different career?  Yes and no.  Of course I would prefer that my beautiful, petite girl have days filled with sunshine and butterflies - that she never even know that this evil exists.  But I wouldn't deny the strong, determined woman the chance to use the compassion and fire that God placed in her.

"Though she be but little, she is fierce" 

- William Shakespeare, A Midsummer Night's Dream

Blooming with Grace

Recently, I told God my plan and He said "I don't think so, Tam!  I want you to stay where you are a little longer and learn to bloom where I have planted you."  What's a girl to do?  Can't very well ask for guidance then argue with His directions, so I'm blooming right here - at least I'm working on it. 

            

A few weeks later, my sister challenged me to find a word to act as a "theme" for the coming year.  I have sort of done this in previous years - 2014 focused on change (graduations, weddings, etc); 2015 was supposed to be focused on "growth" (mine) from stagnant mom to intentionally, moving forward and re-discovering me.  But, I didn't really have a vision for what I want or expect in 2016.  Stay with me - this is going to connect in a minute.

Next, I was browsing Pinterest for a picture or graphic with the words "Bloom where you're planted" to use as a background on my cell phone - kind of a reminder.  I ran across the beautiful image above.  Because it's landscape rather than portrait format, it didn't work for my phone, but it is just so pretty!  It made me curious about the "The Life of Faith" website that is imprinted on it.  I was surprised to find that the title refers to the actual life of a woman named Faith.  

Specifically, the link took me to a post from 2012 in which Ms. Faith was receiving her own "bloom where you're planted" message from God.  She quoted 1 Thessalonians 4:11-12: 

"Make it your ambition to lead a quiet life.  You should mind your own business and work with your hands, just as we told you, so that your daily life may win the respect of outsiders and you will not be dependent on anybody."

How did that verse speak to me?  Let me count the ways:  

1. A quiet life - This has been my ambition for several years - in several forms:
•  To live quietly in a "non-flashy, non-attention grabbing" way;
•  a more literal choice to turn off the TV  and other background noise of life;
•  and in a "shut your yap" kind of way - "Be quick to listen, slow to speak" (James 1:19)
2. Work with your hands -  sewing, gardening, crafts, cooking, housework
3. Win the respect of outsiders - Let Christ's light shine through me and around me as an example to our children, friends, employees . . .
4. Not be dependent on anybody - Another goal since we purchased our own business at the beginning of 2015.  Dave is gone long hours and I have taken on not only the bookkeeping and cooking for the business, but responsibilities at home that were formerly his.  This verse seemed to be telling me that I could handle it.

Still with me?  I promise it all comes together in the end like an A-Team plan.

I began searching for scripture references to "blooming" and ran across this sermon from Deer Park United Methodist Church, in which the writer looks deeper into "bloom where you're planted" by examining it's parts:

bloom -  An action - participation is required - involving your abilities, your will to grow.

where you are - Not just your house or your job or your city, but everywhere your life takes place. Where you exist. All of the things which surround us, each day---the good and the bad, some that we had no part in choosing.

planted - It implies Someone, outside of ourselves, purposely placing us exactly where we are.  An act that requires a lot of care; a lot of thought; and a lot of hope.  He chose this place as the perfect place for this hidden, non-descript, little capsule of life to blossom into the world as something bigger and more beautiful.

The author referenced the words of Jeremiah, spoken to those who had been exiled into slavery. In this moment, God’s people are stranded in a foreign place. Their temple destroyed. Their sacred space in ruins. Their lives in a place they’d never expected.  And Jeremiah tells them to bloom where they are planted - build houses, plant gardens, get married and have children.

 But seek the welfare of the city where I have sent you into exile, and pray to the LORD on it - Jeremiah 29:7

He told them to live fruitfully in that seemingly barren place, and spread the goodness they can make of their lives, into the life around them.

I returned to Pinterest and continued my search for a picture for my phone.  This time I found a slight variation which, evidently, is a French proverb:  "Wherever life plants you, bloom with grace."  Don't just bloom - bloom with grace.  Isn't that pretty?  It conjures images of Grace Kelly in that breath-taking black and white gown from the movie "Rear Window" - The picture of elegance and . . . well. .  .Grace.  I have always wanted to be like Grace Kelly - I want to bloom with grace.



Here's the big finale - the part where all the parts fall into place to reveal one coherent picture.  

• God's response to my plan
• My sister's challenge
• A 3-year-old blog post by a total stranger.
• A sermon from an unknown pastor in an unknown church.
• A French proverb

These five random things brought me to my "word" for the upcoming year - grace.   I will never have the beauty of Grace Kelly. I will never have the graceful movement of Fred Astaire.  But grace comes with a variety of definitions:

• Poise, dignity - "She is clothed with strength and dignity" - Proverbs 31:25

• To do honor or credit to (grace with your presence) - "Her husband has full confidence in her . . . her children arise and call her blessed." - Proverbs 31:11, 28

• Courteous good will, decency, respect (have the grace to...) - "So in everything, do to others what you would have them do to you." - Matthew 7:12

• The condition of being favored (in good graces) - "Let love and faithfulness never leave you; bind them around your neck, write them on the tablet of your heart; then you will win favor and a good name with God and in the sight of man." - Proverbs 3:3-4

• A period of rest or relief from something difficult; respite (grace period) - "Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest." - Matthew 11:28

• A prayer of thanksgiving and/or blessing - "And He took bread, gave thanks and broke it..." - Luke 22:19

• A form of address for royalty (Your Grace) - "And His name will be called Wonderful Counselor, Almighty God, Eternal Father, Prince of Peace." - Isaiah 9:6  "Since we are his children, we are his heirs" - Romans 8:17  If I am a fellow heir with the Prince of Peace, I am also royalty.

• To be attractive, adorn (grace the cover of a magazine) - "The unfading beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit" - 1 Peter 3:4

To be graceful and gracious, as defined by these scriptures, is my desire; and is only possible through the God's amazing grace:

• The free, unmerited favor of God - "For it is by grace you are saved" - Ephesians 2:8

Wishing you all a grace-filled new year!

Grandma's Apron

On the back of the door to Grandma's broom closet hung a beige apron -- maybe it had been pink at one time, but it had aged to a soft ecru. It had a bib, like overalls, and a round opening that went over her head, and two ties that met in a bow in the back. When Grandma put on her apron, good things were soon to be -- sugar cookies, cinnamon rolls, cream cake, chicken with homemade noodles, or jars of wild plum jelly and pear honey.  

As a young wife, I considered aprons "old fashioned" and wouldn't consider wearing one.  But, with age comes wisdom, and I finally wised up to Grandma's ways and I now have four aprons hanging in my broom closet - two were gifts, one I purchased and one I made myself.  I like them all, but I have never been able to find one - premade or a pattern -that matches the style Grandma wore.  

I ran across this reminiscence about "Grandma's Apron" and wanted to share it.  The author is listed as "unknown" but it is based on an original poem by TinaTrivett, which you can find here. 

Grandma's Apron

The principle use of Grandma's apron was to protect the dress underneath because she only had a few. It was easier to wash aprons than dresses and aprons used less fabric to make.  But Grandma's apron wasn't just for baking.

It served as a potholder for removing hot pans from the oven.

It was wonderful for drying children's tears, and on occasion was even used for cleaning out dirty ears.

From the chicken coop, the apron was used for carrying eggs, fussy chicks, and sometimes half-hatched eggs to be finished in the warming oven.

When company came, those aprons were ideal hiding places for shy kids..

And when the weather was cold, Grandma wrapped it around her arms.

Those big old aprons wiped many a perspiring brow, bent over the hot wood stove.

Chips and kindling wood were brought into the kitchen in that apron.

From the garden, it carried all sorts of vegetables. After the peas had been shelled, it carried out the hulls.

In the fall, the apron was used to bring in apples that had fallen from the trees.

When unexpected company drove up the road, it was surprising how much furniture that old apron could dust in a matter of seconds.

When dinner was ready, Grandma walked out onto the porch, waved her apron, and the men folk knew it was time to come in from the fields to dinner.

It will be a long time before someone invents something that will replace that 'old-time apron' that served so many purposes.

Today's moms would go crazy trying to figure out how many germs were on that apron, but I never caught anything from Grandma's apron, but love.

Sisters, Sisters . . .

Sisters come in all shapes, sizes, personalities and relationships.  There are The Three Weird Sisters in Shakespeare's Macbeth:

Double, double toil and trouble -- fire burn and cauldron bubble . . .

There are the three Weird Sisters from the book by Eleanor Brown:

See, we love each other.  We just don't happen to like each other very much.

There are close sisters, like Jo, Meg, Beth and Amy in Little Women, and some who don't quite see eye to eye, like Cinderella and her Wicked Step Sisters.

There are even twin sisters who are separated at birth then meet, quite coincidentally, at summer camp ten years later, despite the fact that they live on separate continents.  At least that's what happens in The Parent Trap.

My favorite sisters in film are the Haynes Sisters from White Christmas, played by Vera Ellen and Rosemary Clooney:  

My sister, Teri, and I have a lot in common with all of these famous sisters - well, except for the magic spells and the separated at birth thing.  And the ability to sing and dance.  Well, really, nothing except the bond of sisterhood.

This past weekend was our 2nd Sisters Weekend.  Sisters weekends are  loosely organized 48-hour periods in which we share craft ideas, gifts, laughs, and some deeper moments.  Each sister provides a craft project (including supplies), an activity (such as jigsaw puzzle, coloring books, or a walk) and, if they choose, a Bible lesson or topic of discussion.  Throughout the day we take turns selecting the next item on the itinerary.  

Prior to Sister Weekend, Teri suggested we participate in Just One Word for 2016.  The idea is to select one word - just one - to be my focus for the new year.  It's harder than it sounds!  Teri shared a worksheet that uses thought provoking questions to guide you in narrowing the scope until you find just one word.  I'll share more on my chosen word in December or January.

We made these Scripture Rings - eleven verses framed with scrapbook paper and glued to shipping tags.  The verses all pertain to our "one word" and are meant as an easy visual aid to keep them fresh in our minds. 

While we were being introspective, we made an "Owl About Me" art project.  The basic outline was intended for grade-school children, and I think an 8-year-old would find it easier than I did to list "Things I'm good at" or "A dream of mine". 

We tried out the latest craze - adult coloring books; made bookmarks; and had a lesson on another new trend - Bible journaling. In between there was a lot of laughter,  chit-chat on topics we haven't had time to keep up with, and evenings of relaxation by the fire pit or in the hot tub - or both.  

If you are fortunate to have a sister, book your own Sister Weekend - even if it all you can spare are a couple hours. 

 A sister is a little bit of childhood that can never be lost. ~Marion C. Garretty

Will it Go Round in Circles

Before you read this post, stop for a moment and enjoy this little throw-back to 1973:

Did you sing along?  At least in your head?  'm sure I haven't heard that song more than three times in the last twenty years, but I knew every word.  And the words make no sense!  "Will it go round in circles?  Will it fly high, like a bird up in the sky?"  Will WHAT go round in circles?  The melody-less song or the step-less dance?  And is that part of the dance - to go round in circles?  This song certainly seems to go in circles and repeat itself, although it does have a melody.  

There is a point to all this circular talk.  Last April, I posted a review of The Grace Impact by Nancy Grace.  The book is divided into 30 daily readings, and it was my intention to write some follow-up posts pertaining to my favorite readings: 

 Over the next few weeks I will be sharing on a few of my favorite lessons from the book and how they touched me. (me - in previously mentioned post)

Life got the best of me, however, and I've been running in circles and haven't gotten it done.  So, I'm going to claim that when I said "next few weeks", I actually meant "four months from now".

I mentioned the other day that I'm reading "The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up" by Marie Kondo.  Part of the author's plan for decluttering life is to hold each and every item I own and gauge whether or not it "sparks joy" in me.  Only those things that spark joy should remain in my home.  I'll post a full review "shortly" (open for interpretation) but, for now, the point is that my goal has been to thin out all the stuff in my house that isn't necessary or doesn't "spark joy". The whole concept had my mind spinning with visions of the joyous and peaceful space I would soon have.  But when I tried to put the plan into motion, I was spinning my wheels.  I've been through my house several times over the past couple years and, honestly, it's as de-cluttered as it's going to get. Things may sometimes be out of place, but I'm not a hoarder.  I don't have mountains of detritus to wade through, as Ms. Kondo experiences with her clients.

So, if it's not clutter and/or excess possessions, why do I have this vague feeling of unrest about my house?  Although it's de-cluttered and clean enough - the beds are made, the dishes are washed, the craft projects are confined to the craft room (mostly), the floors have seen a mop/vacuum in recent history - it never seems to be as "together" as I would like.  I never seem to be as together as I would like.  The answer was depressingly obvious - I don't manage my time and/or energy effectively.  I'm always rushing at the last minute, and disappointed at the end of the day that there's still a stain on the kitchen linoleum next to the dog dish*, the last load of laundry is sitting in the dryer wrinkling, and the weeds are taking over the garden.  I don't need to de-clutter my house, I need to de-clutter my schedule.  I need to de-clutter my mind. 

Ok.  Now I'm on to something.  Put down the smart phone and pick up a pencil.  Make a list:

1.  Clorox spot by dog dish
2.  Fold clothes
3.  Weed the garden
4.  Write blog posts you promised 4 months ago.

Now prioritize those items:  

1.  I'm out of Clorox.  Add it to the grocery list. (check)  
2.  Restart dryer to de-wrinkle clothes.  (check)
3.  Check weather app - 87 degrees, 80% humidity.  The weeds aren't that bad. (check)
 4.  Ok - blogging moves to the top of the list. I found my notes on The Grace Impact, and randomly selected one of the passages I had marked:  Day Sixteen - The Dashboard of Life.

In connecting the dashboard of a car to the dashboard of my life, Nancy likens the speedometer, which measures how fast we are traveling, to time management.  Well, that's appropriate!  

"We have given our busyness a different name - multitasking.  Renaming it doesn't alleviate the stress; it causes more."

I recently read (and I apologize that I can't remember where) that "multi-tasking" is actually just dividing our attention between two things and focusing on neither.  If multi-tasking was really possible, we would all be texting and driving successfully.   

The next dial on our dashboard is the fuel gauge.  In order to accomplish the tasks on my to-do list, I need to be well fueled.  Proper fuel includes several components, but the number one priority is my relationship with God.  A large part of that relationship is - you guessed it - time.

"Beginning the day with reading the Bible and devotionals gives your mind and soul a God-centered focus.  This habit is more beneficial than checking the news or your Facebook page, as it can set your heart and mind at peace for the day."

Pick up my phone before I pick up my Bible?  Would I do that? (I'm trying hard not to look guilty, but I don't think I'm pulling it off.)  Which brings me full-circle.  I need to "tidy up" all the clutter that comes between my intention to live a life of fellowship with, and service to, God; and the accomplishment of that goal.  Nothing else can spark that kind of joy.

In the next few days  Over the coming weeks  Eventually, I will share more of my favorite lessons from The Grace Impact.  In the mean time, you can get your own copy at Barnes and Noble or other booksellers.

* Feeding dogs in the kitchen sparks a rant long enough to be a separate post, but in this small house, there is legitimately no other place for it.

Tailor Made

Home Economics programs are becoming a thing of the past.  "Back in the day", when I was in high school, every girl learned the basics of cooking and sewing. My mom made the majority of clothes for herself and three daughters. Sewing was a nearly daily activity.  When Mom needed to serve a formal meal, she first had to clear the fabric off the dining room table and fold up the ironing board.  Sewing for your family was a common thing at that time.  Though "homemade" sometimes has a stigma of being inferior - frumpy, poorly constructed, or just that you didn't have the money for "store bought" - that was not the case.   Floor-length dresses for school music concerts, new outfits for Homecoming, prom dresses, even cheer-leading uniforms were often home made.  And I, for one, loved it. 

Mom was my personal tailor.  One of my favorite days as a child was when it was my turn to go with mom to the fabric store - browsing the giant books from Simplicity and McCalls, then wandering among the bolts of fabrics in a rainbow of colors.  I wasn't limited to those standard pre-made dresses on store racks.  I could have my dress in any color I wanted, with puffed or straight sleeves, square neck or scooped.  

When the future Hubs invited me to prom only five days in advance, I flew home to tell Mom the big news.  I'm sure the wheels immediately started turning in her head.  While I was floating on a cloud of excitement, she was figuring out how to get a dress made in that amount of time.  The answer was already hanging in my sister's closet.  Mom took apart the dress she had made for my sister two years earlier, cut it to fit me and made a few changes in the details to give it a new look.  I was thrilled!

That was by no means the first time I had worn a dress previously owned by my sister.  Having a sister two years older, we frequently had matching dresses.  When I had outgrown mine, I got hers.  I noticed that, in school pictures, I was wearing the same dress at age 4 and age 6.  I'm sure the second dress was actually Teri's hand-me-down

That's me in the center.  Ignore the hair. 

A couple years later I gave Mom nothing but a description of the dress I wanted for a special occasion - tiered skirt, two tiers solid peach, one tier peach with a small floral print, a simple top with "spaghetti" straps.  I can still picture the look on Mom's face as she realized I seriously expected this dress to materialize.  And I never doubted that she could do it with no pattern.  And I was right.  In fact, she created more than I had asked for.  The dress was actually in two pieces.  I wore the sleeveless version with a matching shawl, then she made an alternate top with long sleeves, that I wore later as part of the Homecoming court.

When I had my own daughter, I couldn't wait to sew for her.  My skills are nothing compared to Mom's, but I could handle a sun dress.  The local fabric store was long out of business, so I went to Wal-Mart and was stunned.  Patterns cost $6-$8.  Add the cost of fabric, thread and notions, and a simple dress for a 3-year-old cost around $15.  I could walk across the store and buy one already made for half that.  But I still wanted to sew for my daughter, so I bought the supplies and made the most adorable dress - white with red lady bugs, little bows on the shoulder straps and on the pocket.  Amanda refused to put it on!  She had her own fashion opinion - even at 3.

A mother who was a talented seamstress was one of many favorite parts of my childhood. Here's a few more shots of me modeling mom's creations.  

My sister, Teri, and I in our Christmas dresses.

I remember this one clearly.  I loved the changeable scarf!

And yes, there really was a point in history when flesh-tone glasses were "in".

 And here's the whole clan. 

 I believe Mom made all three jumpers my sisters

 and I are wearing, as well as her own dress.

This post is linked up with "Inspiration on Monday", hosted by Trish @ Love, Laughter and a Touch of Insanity.