A Letter to My Dennis

Dear Husband:

December 14th, 1974 was a day etched in the journals of our history. How did we get to 50 years?! I do know we have lived all these years together, but looking back, it seems not that many.

A statement I hear from time to time is: "You're so lucky you have such a good husband . . ." If I've heard this once, I've heard it a million times. Have you ever heard how "lucky" YOU are for having such a great wife? Hmmmm...

Nooooo...

I think you will agree with me that luck has nothing to do with it.

There's nothing lucky about our marriage.

It's been a lot of hard work! Right? I really wish people would stop painting the picture of a happy marriage that doesn't come through hard work. Or a marriage that has succeeded because of only one person of the two people involved. One can't be coddled while the other sacrifices. Marriage is a unit where two become as one. Or, that's the goal, right? They always have each others back. There is no other person more important than our mate, and they need to know that.

Any couple who has a healthy, happy marriage that has lasted 10, 20, 30, or even 50 years didn't get there by luck. And ours hasn't always been happy OR healthy. Those first 10 years, or so, were pretty rocky, wouldn't you say? 😉🤣

We didn't just stay happily married from the get go.

We sacrificed.

We forgave.

We rebuilt trust that was broken.

We apologized.

We kept trying.

We got help when we felt stuck

    (Thanks, Denny & Becky...😉)

We kept dating, or at least took stabs at it occasionally. Life is busy when there's a family and money is scarce.

We got help when we were stuck. Yes, I know I've already said this, but I also know how weary you became with me, occasionally, and I do understand why...now.

    (Thanks again, and again, and again, Den & Beck...)

We made time for each other when we had come to the end of ourselves. We should have done better, but here we are. Plenty of time for each other now, wouldn't you say? 🤣🤣🤣❤️

We learned how to communicate. Boy, was THIS hard! Still, we've gotten so much better at it now that the work is almost finished. Maybe that was God's plan all along. Iron sharpening iron until nothing could harm us. Until realization hit that we always had a choice. We could withdraw, or we could work it out. We finally realized we are two completely separate people in the throws of becoming as one. Remember the days when we argued about nothing specific, but you would apologize and ask me to forgive you, even if it was an innocent thing? You never liked going to bed angry with me. Or me with you.

We cared more about our marriage than our pride. Pride was a tough one, for the both of us. Amazingly, our self-pride has now been replaced with admiration for each other, and pride BECAUSE of each other. Thanks for cheering me on during the darkest days of our marriage, especially when I needed it, and for taking the blows from my mouth that must have hurt deeply when I couldn't understand your position on any given matter.

No, there was nothing lucky about our marriage.

We worked.

We worked hard for one another.

The truth is—there is no happily ever after without the blood, the sweat, and the tears.

The truth is, you can't get to happy without going the hard way. Without self-sacrifice. Without selflessness. Without preferring the other above ourself. We are not perfect as we are. Life is a journey to be enjoyed as the kinks are worked out. Right?

I'm eternally grateful for you, DW. I'm grateful that your love for our God outweighed the messy moments. I'm grateful that He was the center of all we did, even when we weren't really listening so well. I'm grateful that God put together two people that was an unlikely match. I'm grateful He knows us better than we know ourselves, and is willing to stick by us in the great times and the growing times.

Our marriage is worth working for. Don't you agree? I wonder how many thought we would never stay together. I'm sure there was a lot of prayer going on for us. 🤣

Life has been a very intriguing, interestingly adventurous journey with you DW. And it keeps getting better and better. I can honestly say "I love you" now, with the true definition of what love is. No flippant "I love you" coming from me...

Do you remember the "Love Chapter" found in I Corinthians 13? It was read aloud as we left the wedding ceremony, some 50 YEARS AGO! It felt like a challenge to us at the time. We finally get it! Here's to our future!

Your One and Only,

MJ

P.S.

There is so much more I could say about the last 50 years. So much more of the life we have lived...always together, never apart. Possibly there will be more blog posts as the months & years go by. Posts that share some of the great things you have done, my dear husband, and continue to do, for our family. Happy 50 years with me! Sainthood may be yours...

#faithfullyyours, here....in Mary's World

Managing Brain Spasms

 

I'll just say it. I love to create! I love allowing ideas to swarm my neural pathways. Those of us caught "day dreaming" are actually allowing ourselves time to process all the pictures and ideas that are currently forming inside the neurons of brain cells. Dennis LOVES it when I come to him and say, "I've been thinking." He knows he's about to get hired to make those thoughts a reality. 🤣

SIDE NOTE: (thoughts that interrupt my thinking) Did you know that innovators are the ones whose dreams are clearer than the reality that tells them they're crazy? And you WILL be told you're crazy to think that thought of yours will work. I'll just add that when we are closed to ideas, what we hear is criticism. When we are open to criticism, what we get is advice. You might want to read that again...

Admittedly, I can become defensive about an idea that is coming at me like a train rushing to its destination without a lot of thought as to how one might stop this locomotion. And to be honest, I don't relish the thought that someday the play station in my head that has been happening most of my adult life, will suddenly end, leaving only a monotonous buzzing of nothingness. Possibly this is why my train gives no thought of how, or when, it must slow its roll and come to the station where no one is waiting. A bit morbid...I know. Yet, tis true...

The latest creative thought needing my Dennis' help (together is better) is adding a bit more ambiance to the salon suite that I only rent, not own. Who does that?! Putting money into a place that one doesn't own? My hand is raised. You knew it would be, right? It's just that I want, I need, my surroundings to be pleasing to the eye, as well as peaceful. These crazy brain waves (that most have) will send us all sorts of signals. Some triggering not-so-good memories, while others will put a smile on our face and hope in our heart. That is what I want for my business studio. A place where weary, world-issue-solvers can take a deep breath and have a sense of safe rest. So...it's time for an upgrade of sorts. Minimal, but still an upgrade of what has been. A tiny upgrade that one may not even notice, but will feel. And that's my point.

MEMO: Picture to show off my latest endeavor. Learning calligraphy. We'll see how far this goes. IT'S HARD!!! (As you can tell 🤣)

As always, here you will find me...in Mary's World.

Footsteps That Don't Exist

It was a quiet morning, since it was just me wandering around. Up at 3:33 while most people are still snoozing. Yes, I did look at the time, first thing after my feet hit the floor. It's a habit. Yet, by the time I made it to the kitchen to start the coffee, it was 4 AM., since there are other rooms to visit before coffee. DW was still sleeping...

All of us have routines, right? Mine is to push the start button on the coffee maker, grab the powdered collagen peptides and the mushroom "coffee" (to kick the brain power in gear and the skeletal portion of my body, moving), the HumanN Super Beets (to keep the heart in sync), then to pull the other supplements out of their hiding place, just to get the day headed in the right direction. I am Super Woman! (*wink *wink). Just you wait. One day you will be her as well. Or SuperMAN, depending on who you are reading this really great post.

We all have "first thoughts" on any given day. Unless you're a man. Am I right? Just hold on, now! 😁 Every time, okay...most times, I ask my husband what he is thinking, it's alway, "Nothing." It's either a true statement, or he just doesn't feel comfortable sharing at that particular moment. So, I suppose there are exceptions to any rule. This may be one of them. You can let me know in the comment section below. Please use your punctuation skills if you want me to understand the message. It matters. Boy! Did I get off on a rabbit trail! It happens. Frequently.

Any who...today, my first thought was, "I need to get a new devotional." That was the ONLY thought upon rising. And that is very unusual. My first thoughts are usually lyrics to a song that's been going around in my head, or a song that God just throws into the mix of all those flashing, excitable neurons, that play around in my brain. All the time. Some mornings are direct words that I believe to be from God, himself. They are usually calmly injected and to the point, unlike most thoughts that have numerous avenues to go down. Maybe today was one of those times.

This post is not about that. This post is about what happened once I arrived in the kitchen, and after gathering all the things that keep me moving. I was in the middle of adding the collagen peptides to our coffee cups (I do take care of him occasionally), when I heard D's footsteps, quieter than normal, coming down the hallway. Over the years, I've become acquainted with his stride, his shuffle, and how one foot seems to graze the hardwoods, ever so slightly, as he makes his way. They paused, just before heading into his favorite room, and settling into his massage chair. To be clear, I didn't hear the steps beyond rounding the corner to the living room. I just knew where he was heading. I know the guy.

Before pouring him a cup of wake-up, I needed to make sure he was actually in his chair and ready to proceed with the day, especially since the footsteps went oddly silent after rounding the corner. It was still dark in the house, except for a few under-counter kitchen lights. I grab the small, fit in the palm of your hand flash light, that dangles from the make-shift shelf that holds things like onions & garlic cloves, shed keys and tiny flashlights, etc.

Armed with my trusty, soft glowing flashlight in hand, I cover it with the other hand (so as not to startle him), I begin my journey to his chair. As I neared the room, I paused to listen. Nothing. No gentle humming of the chair massager, no rocking back and forth of the chair. No foot smoothing out the area in front of the chair. Spooky... I stayed in the adjoining room and flashed the light but needed to get closer. Where did that boy go? No balding head was in view and now, as I entered the room fully, no body. And now my attention is on high alert, although I wasn't skittish, like I normally would have been. Just oddly curious. 

I make my way down the hall, peering into each room as I head to ours. As I stood looking into the last room, light beaming across his side of the bed, there he was! All snuggled under the covers, as if he hadn't moved a muscle all night. So....WHO was it that clearly walked down the hall??? WHO paused at the kitchen entry, then took another step, or two, into the entry hall?

Be still, my mind. Be very still...

Clearly, I should have been a mystery writer...here in Mary's World.

The Battlefield of the Mind

"Not all storms come to disrupt your life. Some come to clear your path." Change is always hard if it feels like waves are slapping up against your face as you try to suck in a breath of air as the change happens.

I don't know what's ahead, what's staring me down. I don't even know if I will like it, but I'm not too messed up about it. A bit messed up, but not enough to keep me down. Not enough for me to give up on life. And certainly not enough to cause me to hide away and lick my wounds.

If you know me at all, you know I do love a good storm. This one is questionable, however. Some days the cloud formation looks ominous. Other days, they feel perfect for calming my anxiousness. The truth of this storm is unknown at the moment. Is it here to disrupt my life? Or is it here to clear my path? Is it a transitional storm, or will it be a long, drawn out, never seeming to end storm? "Oh the things you can think up, if only you try." ~Dr. Seuss 

How much of life will change? Will some of it stay the same? Or will it do a 180, so-to-speak, and when my eyes open, will my brain recognize what the eyes see? 

I've always had a very imaginative mind. One that can create scenarios that Stephen Spielberg would love to tap into. So, this may be that, and not a storm at all. Just a gust of wind that makes me want to tighten my skin a bit, to cover my head, to weep with sadness as it blows through. It will blow through. But what will the landscape look like once it does? Just how much will life demand now that it has taken a piece of my heart?

Something I have always lived by, and will pull to remembrance, from time to time, is that "This too shall pass." Some think this to be a Scripture reference, straight from the Bible. It is not. But this is: "And the God of all Grace, who called you to his eternal glory in Christ, after you have suffered a little while, will himself restore you and make you strong, firm, and steadfast."  ~I Peter 5:10

So...waiting for this tear to repair, here you will find me, searching for the positive...in Mary's World.

P.S.

Fear not. Do not worry about me. I am good. More than good. I am so very grateful for the life I have been given and always begin my days with gratitude that is felt deep inside my bones. My emotions are a bit whacked at the moment, but I assure you, I am well. This is but a bump in the road, and if I focus on the stretch ahead instead of at the dust gathering around my feet, this "storm" will blow on out of here. Ah...the battlefield of the mind....

I Feel Lost Without Her

I woke early this morning. That's not unusual, these days. Upon deciding I should at least try for more rest, I headed back to bed as thoughts began playing tag in my head. Review of the last few days began a panorama of floating thoughts and words spoken that I wish I could retrieve and choose differently. It's been said (more than a few times), not to dwell on the past unless you want today to lose its gift to you. Or something like that...

As tears fill my eyes, I begin to revisit the last time Gramps and I picked our girl up from school, and how that went. It was this past Monday and she wasn't in the best of moods. Something had happened that day while playing with a couple of friends. She wasn't ready to talk about it, so we didn't. Still, I wanted to help her out of the funk it had put her in, and suggested stopping for fries and a sweet tea at McDonalds, on our way home. She turned it down. First sign this was serious.

After a few minutes, I tried engaging once again, hoping to lighten the mood. Mistake number 1. One would think having this amazing creature in our lives for more years than we deserve, one would know when to just sit quietly and let her work through the emotions wrecking her sweet spirit. But...well...anyone who knows me, knows my mouth frequently forgets to listen to the brain that supplies it with wisdom. Mistake number 2.

We pulled into the parking area of where I have a small business that invites one to come in and relax, breathe easy, and enjoy some down time. It had been awhile since she visited the salon and her momma was wanting her to have a treatment on those beautiful curls that swing and bounce as she walks. I think we were both looking forward to it. But, as fate would have it, it was time for a challenge. A bump in the road. A small hill to climb over. A storm cloud hover. Second sign this was serious. And, until that was successfully solved, nothing would/could, make her happy. Except possibly her momma (I still wish for my momma, at times). This just wasn't a day for relaxing. Yet...

We decided, and she agreed, we should just head for the hills of Apex, and re-schedule salon time. I couldn't understand why her favorite person in the world, aka/me, didn't have the power to put a smile on that beautiful little face. Don't believe that last sentence. Her momma is the most favorite person in her world. I just like to daydream and pretend on occasion, and I was doing just that last Monday. Mistake number 3.

On the way home, some things were spoken that should never have been, and now the price is being paid for those misspoken, released words. They were words that might cause her to feel as though I didn't love her. That I just didn't understand. She said I didn't. And I truly didn't. Words that couldn't be erased were offered up in quiet frustration. The biggest mistake of all! And now, my heart is sick. 

I do know that love covers a multitude of sin. I hope, as young as she is, she will remember all the fun times we've had together, as she lays her head upon her pillow at night. All the laughs, the hugs, the solving of the world's problems we've shared. The backyard, fun-filled days, that I will never forget. I hope she remembers that it is she who puts the lift in my steps, the light in my eyes. Not many has the power over me that she does. A few, but not many. Maybe I hold her to too high a standard. 

So here I wait, for the next hug allowed...in Mary's World.

P.S. She made us this cute little owl (her favorite creature, at the moment), for Grandparents Day at her school. Made from her own imagination...

The Shed Where Trotsy Lived

 

We only had about an acre of land that our humble home sat on. It was enough. Our back yard had an apple tree, a peach tree, and a persimmon tree that not only shared their beauty with us, but their fruit, as well! Most years there was an abundance. More than we could consume, so often times neighbors would stop in to gather bags of fruit for themselves. 

The Honeysuckle vines that lined our yard gave off an enticing fragrance that beckoned us to indulge in the sweet nectar that came from its blossoms. The picture you are seeing here, however, was, in the beginning, a small "play house" for our girls that later became a shed for a very important animal. It sat on the East side of our front yard (within viewing distance of my first ever business) and was never meant for the long-haul. We decorated it up with a window box positioned just beneath the fake window covering, appearing to be a protector of the window that wasn't really there. A functioning cover that could be opened and closed with ease, but we never did that, because, welllll....there was no window. I just liked the look. Clever. Right? 😁 And of course, it couldn't be complete without the old hanging shovel and pitchfork framing it. I loved this old building, once it had weathered and looked centuries old. The first (and last) building Dennis had put hard labor into building. I would tell him what was in my head, that I was certain we needed, and he would carry out my wishes to the best of his ability. That hasn't ceased over the 50 years of being married.

The old shed didn't get a lot of use, until our Meg received a gift that caused her heart to understand more fully what love really looked like. And that was the time we added an extension to the building that would be called "home" to this new found love. Must have been somewhere around 1995-96. Meg was only 11, possibly 12 years of age, at the time. The surprise gift came in the form of a horse. A very beautiful horse! More specifically, she was an Appaloosa horse that loved a good butt scratch So commanding of ones presence. And now we were faced with a challenge of where, in the small part of the world we called home, were we to put this beautiful creature. There was only one place to consider, really, and we knew it would have to be temporary at best.  Never in a million years would we expect something so...big, to take up space in our less than spacious front yard. 

Taken after Trotsy was finished with it...🤣

Beings this "pet" was a wee bit larger than the common dog, cat, hamster, or bird, she did present a dilemma. So...we asked father-in-law Denzil, and brother-in-law(s) Danny (was Jim there, too?), to help us build a fence around the East side of our yard where the shed (aka play house), stood. They added a lean-to that circled around to the back, so Trotsy would have a place to get in, out of the very cold winters we Oklahomans experienced. Rarely did a year go by that snow and ice didn't stop by for a visit and dump their contents onto us. Some years, we would wave the snow plow in, on its way into the city, just to dig our cars out from under the carport. Which, by-the-way, bent with the weight of the wet snow, as it packed itself onto its roof. Those were the years Dennis had to grab the trusty ladder and shovel some of that weight off. Nor was is uncommon for our yard to have a layer of ice spread from one end to the other during the winters chill as it blew through our part of the state. So, we did need a place to protect her from the cold as best we could. The lean-to was more of a surround-around ground-level porch, including a low step-up in which to keep her hay and grain dry. Dennis also made her a trough to eat from and we purchased a big galvanized container to water her. She was all set.

So many stories could be written about Meg's beautiful Trotsy, but not today. I only wanted to give my readers a tiny taste of what our lives were like in Oklahoma. It was our home for 39+ years. It was where God placed us, with purpose. I remember Dennis and I holding hands on the last day there, as he offered a prayer of thanksgiving for God's provision in the home he provided us to raise our treasures. Our girls. It was a bitter sweet moment, as more than a few tears were shed. But...the only constant in life is change, right? And God's love for His creation. That never changes either, and He promised me he would be wherever I found myself to be. We depended on Him then, and we depend on Him now, in the place we've called home for the last 11 years and 3 months. It's been said that home is where the heart is. And our girls, our heart, chose North Carolina when they became adults. So....

Leaning into memories of years gone by, here you will always find me...in Mary's World.

Truth, or Dare to Believe A Lie

The title in and of itself, is such a huge topic. But only one aspect of it has peaked the activity in my brain waves this morning. There's no anxiety, just wonderings. "Why?" I ask. What causes one to not seek out truth, and all I can come up with is "fear". Fear of being wrong (the what-ifs). Fear of looking foolish. Fear of losing friends.

Fear causes one to be angry when confronted, or challenged, even in the smallest of ways. Fear always accuses those with an opposing opinion, of being "stupid" and of "spouting lies." Yep. I have experienced this, just recently, in fact. I'm pretty sure most of my readers have, as well.

For me....I prefer the pain of being seen as "stupid," to the pain of not knowing the truth. Truth shines a light in our darkness. Truth always reveals a wrong being done. Darkness hides from the truth because the light can be blinding to those of us who have lived so long in the dark. Truth is painful. Yet, truth is worth the pain...

I have been asked, "Why don't you give back what is being served to you?" My answer is simply, "There is no need for that." Why stir a pot when it's already overflowing with hatred? The battle is not ours to wage. My hope is in God, not in humanity. Humanity is flawed, even as perfect as we claim ourselves to be. We do make mistakes. God doesn't.

A spiritual battle is a given in most of our dealings. Why do I believe that? Because we all are spirit beings simply having a human experience. The body may die and decay, but the spirit lives for all of eternity. And because God purchased us back from certain death, from the evils of this world that would try to consume us, our enemy (you know him), will always try to make our lives miserable, contentious, and overwhelmed. He knows our future as well as he knows his, so all kinds of road-blocks will be thrown in our path to keep us from seeking truth. THE TRUTH, not "our truth." Which will in turn bring peace to our spirit. Regardless of the opposing accusations. Nothing will move those who rely upon the God who saves. Perfect peace in the midst of any storm belongs to those who have given up the rights to themselves. No "thick skin" needed. Just truth. THE TRUTH.

"You shall know the truth, and the truth will set you free." ~John 8:32 We now belong to the One who has already conquered death. What more do we need? Words are just words. But when light is shown on them, any deception must back away.

I've never liked a dark room. Maybe this is why.

Constantly seeking the truth, here you will find me...in Mary's World.