OK...almost 14 hours after I wrote this morning's post...the joke is on me!

Hooooooooooooooooooo boy. I don't think it's very smart for me to write a long blog post at 4:06 am. I went back and reread it as I sat down here this evening and it's like...did I write that?!? Seriously! The only reader who commented that did get it was Donna and this is what she said:

"I didn't get the impression you were wanting to be liked. You wish the person didn't toss the f-bomb around, and you'd read their blog if it weren't for that. That's what I got from it. Now, what that had to do with guilt, I don't know. LOL."

In reading my post over, I don't even know what that had to do with guilt, either. In fact, outside of starting off in the right direction with my little ditty about stealing bubble gum, I don't even know how I ventured so far off track. But I do digress. A lot. And those of you who stop in fairly regularly already know that about me. So you should know it's best to just sit there, stare at your screen, scratch your head, and wonder "What in the world is this woman talking about?!" After living with me for 35 years, it's a miracle my Dear Hubby hasn't scratched a bald spot on his head from trying to understand how my mind works. I haven't even figured it out, and I've been living inside of it for almost 56 years. HA!

So that's my damage control for this post. And Meadowlark, it's ok. I knew when I read your comment that I'd done a bad, bad job of wandering off in too many directions. No wonder I had you so fired up and confused. But it sure made for an interesting comment! I didn't even know you were still stopping by to read so it was really nice to hear from you.

I have finally caught everyone's cold. It's settled behind my eyes and in my nose and sinuses. I feel crummy. So, a weekend of being a sicky is in front of me, I guess. Oh, joy.

But I'll delve in to that Barbara Delinsky book tomorrow and let you know how I liked it. Or not.

Hit the Delete!

I thought very seriously about deleting the post below but then I thought...nah. I think everyone is completely missing what a meant. When I have time tonite I'll try to do damage control, ha!

Good grief...at almost 56 years of age I am most definitely comfortable in my skin. I don't care one way or the other how well liked I am. That's not what I was trying to say.

But the written word is a fickle thing. I knew what I was trying to say but obviously it didn't come out right.

guilt: a feeling of responsibility or remorse for some offense, crime, wrong, etc., whether real or imagined.

Guilt.


Ah, my old friend!


We go back a long way.


When in life do we become encumbered by feelings of guilt? I don't remember it in the carefree days of my very early youth. But I do remember the first time I was accused of something I'd done and I felt guilty because I knew I deserved the tongue-lashing I received for it. I was maybe 6 or 8...somewhere around those ages...and I stole a piece of bubble gum from a 5-&-Dime store in the small town I grew up in. The owner...who happened to be our next door neighbor...saw me do it and told me if he ever caught me doing it again he'd tell my Dad! Well, that put the fear of all fears in me. Not that I was afraid of my Dad...he was a pretty easy-going guy for the most part...but I was afraid of losing my 'good girl' persona. Being good -- back then-- was very important to me.


I used to read a blog on a daily basis. In fact, it was one of the first ones I'd click on every morning. I enjoyed the writer's sense of humor, their insights into the world around them, their very good writing skills. And this person also came to mine. A comment was left. I wasn't offended. I've been chided for my religious beliefs enough in life that I've become very thick-skinned where that's concerned...we're all entitled to our opinions and I figured this person was entitled to theirs as well. It was around this time I became tired of this writer's use of the "F" word, tho. Here and there I can handle it, I guess, tho I absolutely abhor it and I don't understand why so many bloggers or writers worth their salt need to even use it. But I decided to quit visiting. And this writer also quit coming to mine around the same time, too. Because I had commented back that I also felt sorry for them for their feeling sorry for me. I can't imagine a life without God in it. But oh well...it's all water under the bridge and I don't imagine either one of us feels much of a loss. We were alike in a lot of ways, but fundamentally our worlds were worlds apart.


But every now and then I do get to wondering. I wonder if I offended them. Because I just kind of disappeared from their radar screen. Blip blip blip...bloop......blooop.....bloooooooooop. I hope they don't think it was because I was offended. If they'd get rid of the "F" word I'd probably be back there in a minute. Because...in a lot of ways...I miss going there. I hope they don't think, "There she is...another one of those kind of Christians! Close-minded hypocrite!" because, truly, I'm not. Just ask the thousands of kids I loved and nurtured while I worked for the schools. Who loved me in return, no matter how wild and unruly they were. Ask my neighbors. Ask my family. I just. don't. like. the. "F". word. Period.


And so...if this writer/former reader ever stumbles across this and would like me to become a fan again, it was the "F" word!!!! That's all!

As the world goes insane yet again around me...

I am kicking back relaxing to some good tunes with the volume loud. I'm drowning out the latest horrific news being broadcast tonite about the deadly shooting at Ft. Hood, Texas. It is beyond me, the lunacy that abounds in this world. And this Major who participated in the shooting was a psychiatrist?! Excuse me?! Lord have mercy on us all. I am in need of sticking my head in the sand and just blocking it all out tonite. Some days it's just too too much.

I had the grandboys for only half a day today. Both are sick with nasty colds. Their mom got it first, their dad got it next, then it was them, and then this morning both Dear Hubby and my Daughter woke up with sore throats. The only one bypassed so far is me and I dunno how that's happened because I've had more snot and juicy sneezes aimed at me, wiped on me, and drooled on me in the past few days, I've had to change my shirt at least twice a day. ICK! (shudder shudder)

I went to the bank, stopped at the post office to mail off some arrows my husband had sold, stopped at the library to pick up a book that had come in for me, and did my weekly grocery shopping. Then had time to make a big pot of homemade chicken/vegetable/rice soup that I served with fresh warm French Bread. I sat down here at 5:10 this evening. Do you know the last time I sat down at 5:15 on a weeknite?! I sure don't.

The book I picked up is Barbara Delinsky's "While My Sister Sleeps". I hope it's good. I am getting very tired of waiting for a new book, only to be disappointed yet again. I got Eileen Goudge's newest book, "Once in a Blue Moon" at the library recently and I could not for the life of me get into it. And usually I enjoy her books. Is it me? Is it the writers? Maybe I should go back and reread a lot of my old favorites. I haven't done that in a long time. Would you like a list of some of them? Well, whether you do or don't, here they are:

1. The "David & Claudia" books by Rose Franken

2. "The Plum Thicket", "Tara's Healing", "The Enduring Hills" by Janice Holt Giles

3. All of Gladys Taber's "Stillmeadow" books

4. "Giant", "Cimarron", and "So Big" by Edna Ferber

5. "The Trees", "The Fields", and "The Town" by Conrad Richter

6. "The Thorn Birds" by Colleen McCullough

7. "East of Eden" by John Steinbeck

8. "Main Street" by Sinclair Lewis

9. "Ride the Wind" by Lucia St. Clair Robson

.....just to name a few.

I read this today. I felt so badly for this man. I can't imagine how humiliating this must feel. But then again, maybe I can since I did the same thing many years ago. You want to go crawl in a hole somewhere and just...die.

And I read this today as well. It also made me want to crawl in a hole somewhere, too. It didn't make me want to die but it made me cringe with discomfort, wondering if I'm one of those driveling, meandering, boring, talentless ninnies out there in the blogosphere who has no content, no structure, and thinks they can write when they really can't and shouldn't.

Ouch.

For lack of any original thoughts in my brain tonite...

What curse word do you use the most? My Dad's favorite: "You dirty bird!" I don't think I ever heard the man swear in my life.

Do you own an iPod? Honestly, what IS an iPod?

Who on your MySpace "Top 8" do you talk to the most? I am seriously out of touch. I don't have MySpace. Don't want it, either. And I don't text. And I don't IM. I hardly know how to make a call on a cell phone.

What time is your alarm clock set for? 3:15 am

What color is your room? Kind of a minty green

Flip flops or sneakers? Preferably barefoot but I do wear sneakers

Would you rather take the picture or be in the picture? Definitely take the picture and I'm not even good at that, being left-handed and most picture-techie stuff is on the right side of the camera. My photos are notoriously blurry.

Do any of your friends have children? Yes, and grands and great-grands, even.

Has anyone ever called you lazy? No one would even dare call me lazy.

Do you ever take medication to help you fall asleep faster? Rarely

What CD is currently in your CD player? "Viva La Vida" by Coldplay

Do you prefer regular or chocolate milk? Regular and very, very cold

Has anyone told you a secret this week? No, but I had a phone conversation with someone and a lot of what we talked about will never go beyond me.

Who was the last person to call you? My daughter

Did you watch cartoons as a child? Yes...Mighty Mouse, Huckleberry Hound, Quckdraw McGraw, Top Cat, The Flintstones, The Jetsons...

Are you shy around the opposite sex? Not at all. Having grown up in basically a very male household, I think I'm even more comfortable with males than I am with females

What movie do you know every line to? I don't know every line to it, but Dear Hubby and I have a lot of catch phrases from "Fargo" that we use with each other a lot. The cut version, mind you. I know we could never watch the movie-theater version for the language.

Do you read for fun? I read for fun and relaxation, mostly.

Do you cry a lot? I rarely ever cry

Do you have a desktop computer or a laptop? A Desktop PC

What is the weather like? Blustery and quite cool. I can hear my windchimes going to town out on the porches.

When was the last time you slept on the floor? 5 years ago? At our son's house on a queen-sized air mattress while the remodelers were installing the tile on the bathroom floor.

How many hours of sleep do you need to function? I really try for 8 because I really need them to keep up with the grandboys.

Do you pay attention to calories on the back of packages? No

Are you picky about spelling and grammar? Yes, and that probably sounds funny since I write like I think and I have quirky little misspellings for "nite" and "thru". I can't seem to make myself type those out. Why, I have no clue.

Do you sleep on your side, tummy, or back? I tend to fall asleep on my left side the most, then stretch out on my back, then flop back on my side.

Do you enjoy giving hugs? I enjoy giving hugs more than I enjoy getting them. For a lot of personal reasons from my early years, I don't like people invading my personal space.

What song did you last sing out loud? The "Dinosaur Train" theme song.

Which famous person, dead or alive, would you want to have lunch with? The Apostle Peter. He is my favorite Bible person, outside of the Lord.

Last time you had butterflies in your stomach? When I spoke at a chapel service at Oregon State Penetentiary.

What one thing do you wish you had? Without a second thought...TIME!!!!!!!!!

How accurate is Feedjit? When I have commenters come from certain countries or parts of the US and their comments show up but their cities/countries don't on Feedjit...well, how many visitors are never counted?!

Random Dozen

I don't think I'll be doing this every week so I won't link to it but I found this at Betty's this morning and thought I'd let someone else do the thinking for me today:

1. It's early morning, about 2:00AM, and you're driving home. You come to a red light and sit there. There is no one in sight for miles around. Do you wait it out or run the light?

I am hopelessly a follower of the Law. I stay.

2. If you had the chance to re-do the last 24 hours, would you change anything?

Outside of getting more sleep, no.

3. When you reply to someone's comment on your blog, do you reply in your comments or go to her blog and comment or email them?

It took me until just recently to realize I could email them directly. Otherwise, I've always gone to their blog and commented. I don't know about anyone else, but I rarely ever go back to an old post to reread it so I don't even think about replies to my comments being on them. I do have a couple of blogs I read where I'm aware they do that, so when I visit those I try to remember to go back and look.

4. Your favorite Disney movie is:

Is "Toy Story" a Disney movie?

5. Do you recycle?

Religiously!!! Especially since Dylan is so crazy about garbage/recycling trucks!!

6. Games of strategy or games of chance?

I hate board games. Tho I do like my little handheld Yahtzee game.

7. Do you have any recurring dreams?

An actual recurring dream? No. But I have some nightmares about my years of involvement in the occult that could make a person's hair turn white overnite.

8. What did you learn from your first real job?

That organization is the key to keeping on top of things.

9. Do you buy or borrow most books?

I either check them out at the library or pick up books at yard sales or thrift stores.

10. What fashion trend of the past did you say you'd never wear again but did?

Micro-minis were the only trend I really followed...back then I was slender enough to look decent in them, ha! I'm too plain-Jane lazy to do much more than wear jeans and knit tops/sweaters/t-shirts now thru the week.

11. When do you start Christmas shopping?

December 24th! Seriously, I hate Christmas shopping. Two "hates" in this entry?! I sound like Scrooge!

12. Have you ever been so happy that you literally jumped up and down for a few seconds? If so, what was the occasion?

Maybe when I was a kid. I'm not what you call a giddy kind of person. I have too much of my parents' New England reserve in me.

15 Words

Gobsmacked

with sleepiness

Ate too much yesterday

Bored and housebound

Not a very good combination

These hit my funny bone...

Is it Friday yet?

So sad...and so true

Tweety Bird Today

and how I felt yesterday

after playing in the leaves

with the grandboys!!

Ugly Faces

Before Laptops

No spring nor summer beauty hath such grace

As I have seen in one autumnal face.

~ John Donne

Mind Puddle Potpourri....

I blogged recently about ear worms, those pesky songs you hear...like on Muzak in department or grocery stores, in elevators...that stick in your brain and go on instant replay for days at a time. I get plagued with them a lot, maybe because I have a trivia junk yard for a mind and I can remember the lyrics to songs from...oh...50 years ago. Today's lyrics? Fuhgeddaboutit. I don't even listen to today's music for the most part, as far as pop and all the other youth-oriented stuff goes. I don't think I've ever heard a Miley Cyrus song. Or Jonas Boys or Brothers or whoever, whatever they're called. I. Don't. Have. Time. But an old Beatles song? "Happy Together" by the Turtles? "Our House" by Crosby Stills & Nash? "Taxi" by Joni Mitchell? Oh, I could go on and on and on. But every now and then I'll catch myself singing something over and over again and I'll suddenly begin really listening to what I'm singing. And quite often it'll be something like this:

I will call upon the Lord

Who is worthy to be praised

So shall I be saved from my enemies

I will call upon the Lord

The Lord liveth and blessed be the Rock

And let the God of my salvation be exalted!

That one's been on spin cycle for several days now. And it's like maybe the Lord is dropping those words into my subconscious to work their way into my conscious mind and letting me know He's there for me. After a day like today, I need a little boost like that every now and then. More often now than then, let me tell you. But the day is over. It's Friday.

At one point today my grandson Dylan was racing himself back and forth, back and forth, from the couch in the living room out to the cupboards in the kitchen. I had to yell, "On your mark! Get set! Go!" And boy-howdy, how he went! One time as he reached the couch he flew into my arms and patted me heartily -- very heartily -- and told me, "I hit your back!" but I thought he told me, "I hit the old bat!" Well, I've been called things in my life time but never the "Old Bat". So when I was taken aback by it and said, "Old bat?!" He said, "No, Mommy...me hit your back!!" Oh. Ok, then. Maybe I better speed-order some Beltones after all....

A bittersweet moment for me last nite. I was reading a family member's Facebook and saw that one of my grand-nieces is getting married in January. I have never met this grand-niece. I probably haven't seen her mother, one of my nieces, in 25 years??? Good grief, I haven't seen any but one of my nieces in more than 17 years now. The one I saw a few years ago I haven't kept in contact with. Most of this lack of family closeness has been because of a deep rift that happened in 1992 and caused one of my brothers and his entire family to write off any contact with myself or my other two brothers. Some of it has been from me distancing myself away from it all. I don't know...I guess I had so much drama in my 'formative' years that I really don't want drama now. I am selfish with myself and with my time because I have so little of myself to give at this stage and so little time to do it in, outside of my life with my own family and grandboys. And sometimes I feel like I don't have enough to spare for even my own kids any more. At almost 56, taking care of two toddlers is pretty demanding. And I'm no spring chicken now. I mentioned to Dylan a while back when I creaked my way up off the floor for the umpteenth time that, "Grandma's old!" So now when we're out walking and a garbage truck goes by and he asks me to run after and catch it and I say, "No, darling...Grandma's too slow to do that." And he'll say, "Because you old, Mommy?" and I'll say, "Yes, I am." I am telling him the truth. Oh, yeah!!!!

I have nothing planned for this weekend. Nothing. Grocery shopping. Yippee. And a trip to the library to pick up "Homer & Langley", a new book by E.L. Doctorow. His "World's Fair" was one of my favorite books when it came out. I don't have a clue what this one is about. I hope I'm pleasantly surprised. I had 5 books checked out from the library and took all 5 back without finishing one of them. Am I that picky of a reader, or is there truly nothing much worth reading out there any more? Tomorrow nite is Halloween. Depending on the weather we may have a few trick-or-treaters. Our street is rather dark and has never attracted many little ones, tho, so I'm not expecting a flurry of them.

Ok. Enough tripping thru the murky muckiness of my mind tonite. I'm going to go lie on the living room floor, stretch out my back, and go to bed. I'm even boring myself.

Selective hearing...or so I'm told...

Photo by Mark Kozlowski

I can no longer hear Dear Hubby when he talks. Not very often, anyway. On the first try. It doesn't help that he talks to me from 3 rooms away or when he's bent over facing away from me tying his shoes. Or is outside shooting his bow and I'm in the kitchen with the windows shut...it's not summer time any more, don'tcha know. It's frustrating us both to no end. Is it selective hearing on my part? I don't think so. I've been straining to hear him talking from the aforementioned places for 35 years now and have been able to hear him ok for the most part. But now I constantly seem to be asking him, "WHAT?!" or telling him, "I can't hear you!" It's driving him to the point of distraction. I don't seem to have trouble hearing anyone else. Well, outside of our son who mumbles on the phone. He gets driven to the point of distraction, too, by me interrupting him from the get-go telling him to "Speak up!" That may just be our telephone, tho...Dear Hubby and our Daughter can't hear him either.

What's that you say? Maybe I'd better brush up on the few Baby Signs I know already. I might need them sooner than I think.

Time...or the lack thereof...is the enemy here...

I sent a card to a friend the other day, one who lost her mom a few months back. She'd been on my mind a lot lately and whenever a person sticks in my brain for more than a day or two, when I know they're going thru a difficult time, I usually do a 'follow-up' and send off an "I'm thinking of you" note to them. This friend is not a close one but we're working on that. I've known her on the periphery of my life for many years but it wasn't until a few years ago when she began working at the business my son works for that I became better acquainted with her. Back then, before I began taking care of the grandboys, I had a part time job and then the one at my son's work where I'd do data entry work whenever I was needed. M had begun doing the bookkeeping there and we began chit chatting as our paths crossed. I found out she's a very nice person to know. Nite before last I'd headed for bed not long after my usual bedtime of around 7 pm -- I get up at 3:15, for those of you reading who may never have visited here before -- and around 8 my daughter stuck her head in the bedroom and whispered, "Mom?" I was on the cusp of falling in to deep sleep but I heard her whisper and mumbled, "Huh?" from under my pillows. "Did you hear the phone ring?" she asked. "No," I told her. "It was MT calling. She thought she was calling early enough to speak to you but I told her no, you'd gone to bed a while ago. She said, 'I knew she went to bed early but I didn't know it was THAT early!'

Yes, M...it is THAT early.

Sigh.......

Was I ever that nite owl in my younger years where I'd sit up and read or write or embroider until 2 in the morning?! When Dear Hubby and the kids were tucked in and asleep and I had the house to myself? The peace and quiet I sorely needed to keep my soul balanced and healthy? Not that I'm not balanced and healthy...but you know what I mean. Time to refresh myself. Time to just be me. In my life now...that's where blogging comes in, the little windows of time here and there I find to just...ramble...for the most part, for lack of a better description. It keeps me balanced and healthy. And sane. Or sort of sane. I know this much: I would wither up and blow away if I didn't have it. Like dandelion fluff on the wind.

Where are all my Coffee Stop bloggers? I've been noticing long gaps between posts. Is time their enemy too? Lack of interest? Real life interrupting?

Just wondering. Just missing.

(PS to myself...I say that, then I looked as I posted this and noticed most have updated in the past several hours. But that was not the case beforehand! Or maybe I've lost what marbles I had left!)

Tea for two and two for tea....

This would be us, both grandboys getting the hang of using the potty. Dylan's the trail blazer and Cooper is his hero-worshipping little mimic...whatever Big Brother Din-Din does, "And ME!" does it too. It is amazing to me how an 18-month-old boy can be catching on so quickly and doing so well. Maybe in another month we'll be able to cut diapers and pull-ups out of our grocery budget. I can dream.

Charity begins at home....

Sometimes I am not a very nice person. I am not going in to any detail as to who this entry is about because it needs to remain generic for a lot of reasons. But, trust me...I am not very charitable at times when it comes to family matters. Or maybe I should rephrase that and say family members. And I don't like myself very much when I feel this way, when circumstances come up where I need to be charitable and I feel myself close down. Draw in. I know where it all hearkens back to and you'd think at the age of 55 I'd be able to overcome such petty brattiness on my part. Because that's what it boils down to, childish petty brattiness. But I can't. Or maybe I should say I find it very difficult because I'm not one who allows "can't" to come in to my vocabulary very often. It's strange, tho, isn't it, how we are categorized in family dynamics as children and no matter how old we become we seem to remain stuck there. We are the only daughter. The only sister. The oldest brother. The middle child. The baby. And we can't seem to see our siblings or any other family members beyond that. And we let those categories, those pigeon holes we've been filed in to from what can seem like a millenium ago color every opinion we have about each other as we move on thru the years no matter how old we are. Or is this only me, only my experience with family? Me, who's known as the 'nice' person, the nurturer, the generous one. But I confess here before you all to let you know that I am not necessarily that person. Deep down I am the petty childish brat. And I'm not proud of it.

Young love, our love...we share with deep emotion...

These two versions of "Where I'm From" are from my young bloggy friend Jaggy and her brand-new husband, The Man. When I say brand-new, I mean a husband of one week! Jaggy is my honorary 'niece'...or so I feel about her. I've been following her blog for a long time now and I told her a long time ago she reminds me so much of myself a million years ago when I was her age. Our minds work alike in a lot of ways. I was around when she first met The Man, who was The Boy back then. Oooooooh, young love! 'Seeing' this romance blossom from the words she wrote on her blog entries has brought back a lot of the memories of the courting days of Dear Hubby and me. I think I've written before how Dear Hubby told his friends when they'd dropped me off at my parents' house after our first date that, "Someday I'm going to marry that girl." These two young lovers sound as if they come from similar backgrounds, as Dear Hubby and I did, and after 35 years together I can say that sharing a lot of the root values in life have helped to enrich our lives. I'm sure they'll enrich Jaggy's and The Man's, too. Thank you, Jaggy and The Man, for letting me share these wonderful poems. First we hear from Jaggy:

Where Jaggy is From

I am from peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, from Scholastic book clubs, and the Beaver State.

I am from the wide front porch, hockey up and down the long hallway, and a slip-n-slide dining room.

I am from red-all-the-way-through strawberries and monster rhododendrons, the Bleeding hearts and grapes tucked away on the side of the farm.

I am from sugar cookies and stubbornness, from Oscar and Jean and parents who loved me whether I liked it or not.

I am from the pioneers, the real Oregon Trail ones, the Protestant ideal of “work hard and ye shall succeed,” and that my word is my bond.

From gingerpeachykeeno and summathat, cricks and oyoyoy!

I am from Sunday morning Nascar races, visiting family all weekend long, and feeling Bible-thumped by friends that now have a hard time understanding why I became Catholic.

I'm from the flatlands surrounded by mountains, from grass county, from the Willamette Valley, from Germany and England and Russia, from milk noodle soup and Mom’s spaghetti.

I am from the woman who fended off angry Native Americans from the back of a covered wagon with an axe, a grandpa whose tickles lasted long after he stopped wiggling his fingers on my belly, and parents who always read to me when I asked.

I am from a hand-made pink flannel photo album, a little blue French textbook, a family tree spanning four continents in six hundred years, from the guffy house full of treasures of Dad’s life, his parents’ life, and lives way way back on the old farm.

Where The Man is From

I am from the forgotten streambed where cattle roamed, from Bookmobile forays and too-short sweat pants.

I am from the creaky upstairs with slanted roof, or the backyard swing set on the kid-imagined mountain.

I am from Kleczynski reunions and bony noses, from Grandma K’s donuts and Uncle Ken’s barbeques and Steinkamp camping trips.

I am from life-long friendships that push me every day just to be worthy of them.

From the land of strangeporks, weirdbeards and bedtime Aesop’s.

I am from tough-kneed Catholics and quiet, powerful faith, where you’re family if you join us twice. Bring food next time.

I'm from stubbornness and determination, a combination just as deadly as Mom’s macaroni and cheese and Linda’s banana cream pie, and where an incurable disease known as Jerkism seems to run in the family.

I am from the thorny blackberry bushes hiding secret forts, the backyard trees with hotdogs for leaves.

From scenic routes through Eastern Oregon, sometimes with no flat tires, and from snow-packed skiing trails perfect for pushing dad over.

I am from whole-family pictures numbered to remind us who is who, JustBesideAndMy and WalkMeBeFriend, and walls stuffed with laughter where the house is warmed by love just as much as woodstoves.

Oregon Coast Sunset

My daughter is at the beach this weekend. She sent me this photo via her blackberry.

I am sooooooooooooooooo jealous.

Loretta left a comment a couple of blog entries ago after I posted a lovely 'anonymous' poem about hanging clothes out on the clothesline. She told me how her mother had certain places on the line where certain items went and she'd have them take them down and do it over again if they hadn't hung the clothes correctly. That brought back memories of when my Mom decided it was time to teach me how to make a 'proper' bed. I had to have been one of the most stubborn children ever created on this earth, as well as being a diehard tomboy, and household chores were not on the top of my priority list. But when I was around 10 Mom told me it was high time I learned how to change bed linen. Then began our battle of wills. My father had taught her the military way of making beds so she set out by demonstrating to me how it was done. Then it was my turn. Nope, no good. Then again. Nope...still no good. And again...and each time she'd strip the bed down to the mattress and make me do it from scratch. By the time I finally succeeded in doing it 'right' I was reduced to tears. Kind of like those "Naughty Chair" sessions on "Supernanny"? Where I was forced to keep at it until I did it correctly? Oh, how I resented my mother on that day. But years later as my mother-in-law was passing thru our bedroom she told me, "One thing you do that I admire so much is what a lovely bed you make." If my mom had been looking down from heaven that day, I'm sure she had a good chuckle!

Private Pain

Photo from St. Vincent de Paul Society

Sadly, this poem I wrote 20 years ago for my mother just before she died has been getting a lot of distribution lately. But for some reason I feel the 'nudge' to share it more with the world in general, for those tens of people who might stop by here randomly or purposely in a day's time. Honestly, I don't have a clue how many stop by but you're welcome to use this poem if you think it'll help anyone you know who's grieving or in their own world of private pain:

Private Pain

There is a place of private pain where only you can trod.

The path is not an easy one unless you trust in God.

The times you feel you can't go on, when no one understands,

The Lord is there to ease you through, to take you by the hand.

There is a place of private pain where silent tears are shed,

Where Jesus is beside you, giving comfort as He said.

His arms wrapped close around you and His Holy Presence near,

You know you can rest easy and you needn't ever fear.

There is a place of private pain...I'm in its midst right now.

I know the Lord's preparing me...I cannot tell you how

But in my heart of hearts I know that when I need Him near

The only thing I'll do is ask and He will be right here.