I've Been Called Worse

I've been called Moco (long story)

I've been called Mama

I've been called Dear Auntie

I've been called Amazon Woman

I've been called Miracle Worker

But I've never been called "Delicate Flower", until now...

As strong and resilient as I have been in the past, it seems I must come to terms with being something I've never been before.

Most people (I think), when doing a 180...when pivoting from the norm..usually have a solid, trust worthy plan in place as to what the next chapter of their lives will look like. They head into it with enthusiasm and with the necessary equipment (mental & otherwise), they foresee needing, in a strange new world they are about to become a part of. 

That just wasn't me...

Yes, I grew up on a farm. Strength and resilience form within, stemming from inside ones mental and physical being. From extreme sweltering heat in the summer and debilitating freezing cold in the winter we rose to the challenge and conquered. A farm girl is up for it. Our bodies adjust to the elements as they knock at the door.

Yes, I was outside at least 12 hours each day. With 30 minutes (to an hour) for lunch. Should the gods smile on us, allowing our strength to replenish for the remaining hours needed to take care of business.

Farm business. Outside business. Business that was necessary to keep the family alive. And we did it without complaint. At least no complaining where any adult could hear us. Okay. Where Dad could hear us. He had a knack for solving a complaining spirit. And, I'm glad he stayed the course...

As the years turned me into a young adult, I left the confines of my training grounds. I was no longer needed outside to work the fields, the log woods, or the milking barn. Dad had begun the process of selling everything because of his failing health, and I was the only child left at home, required to milk (by hand) 20 head of holsteins...before school.

It was at this time, I became an "inside" girl. 

For the most part, it agreed with me. Sure, there were jobs I seriously dreaded facing. Most of them, actually. I hated factory work. I loathed waitressing (at least in the beginning). I did love the connection made with humanity (mostly), and the thanks I received of doing my job well; tips were amazing. This type of job became my norm for many years, mainly because of the freedom it gave me to work as long as I wanted and money was great. Because I was a worker.

Trained by the best. My Dad. Work was not a dirty word. It was a gift given by our Maker.

I left the restaurant & lounge business to train in cosmetology, later becoming a salon owner and stylist. For 50 years. It was a good run.

I don't know when my body decided it was going to start a rebellion against outside work. But it did. Maybe because it had become accustomed to controlled air conditioning in the hot summer months, and wood burning heat in the winter, rarely having to deal with the outside elements. At least not for long periods of time. And now I was asking it to conform back to working in nature, once again, only now with aging resources. 

For whatever reason, what my body had left to give me, decided to build a fire pit inside my core ready to ignite the minute I stepped into the heat of the day (hoping to change my mind) I suppose. If I pushed on regardless, and chose to stay in the heat (working...or just standing), within 15 minutes my skin felt the burn from inside as well as from the outside. Blisters showing themselves proud.

Looking back, I do believe it was telling me that enough was enough. The years this amazing conglomeration of cells, veins, muscles, blood and bone, had given to the cause, now decided it was time for a little R&R. A time for working a little less in the natural heat of the sun, and more in the unnatural cool of an AC. 

The problem with that was when it came time to retire (ugh...I still have a hard time saying that word), my mind was not ready to say, "Okay. You've earned it." My mind was trained to continue even in the hard places. Even when the body is weary. Or hot. Or both.

But change did come.

It has now been a full year, and I think I have finally come to grips with my world looking vastly different. My mind, and my body, have finally come together (while negotiating), and agreed they weren't finished. It was time to live again. Time to reconnect. Time to push until something foundational begins to surface, with both working towards the same goal.

Maybe this "new world" isn't that strange at all. Maybe this unlikely pivot, isn't a time for giving up. Maybe it's time for the culmination of what 79 years on this planet has produced for someone previously known as "Wonder Woman" & "Miracle Worker".

I can work with "Delicate Flower". For a season 😉

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

P.S.

Isn't the next chapter of a book usually better than the one before? 

My Little Mansion...from the Backside

To some, it may not look like much. To me, it's a mansion. 

My little part of the world is loved not because of how it's built, nor because of where it stands. It is loved because I believe it was prepared for us, for this particular season of life.

The homestead waited in a fast moving real estate market, refusing to show what it could be. It waited for us to arrive. It waited for us to decide what we would do, or could do, to change it up, once we said, "Okay." It knew I would resist owning it. The curb appeal was lacking enticement. It knew I would resist the possibilities of what it could be, simply because my heart was set on something a little more grand. It waited for our love to fully arrive.

I'm so grateful for its (and God's) patience with me.

Today, sitting on our backyard swing, enjoying the cool morning breeze as it sweeps Mimosa fluffs past me on their way to anything they can attach themselves to, I snap this picture. 

We've occupied this land for 13 years, paying off the mortgage at the beginning of this year. She's completely ours now. Feels so good. So freeing...

Having recently gotten a face life, our little mansion stands stately, maybe just a little too proudly. She loves her new look, as do I. Like a shiny new penny, she glistens. 

It's been a long time coming, yet she is so very grateful for the years before. It shows in how well she accepts those little nuisances the Mimosa's throw at her, and the gum balls that litter her yard, trying to make her feel less beautiful. And those pine needles! Oh, they do love to gather on her roof, trying their best to smother her breathing capabilities.

But, today? She shines bright! Welcoming those who need a bit of peace. Demonstrating how one can overcome life's little distractions if they but choose to look closer. If they would just take a breath, close their eyes, and listen.

A house is a building of brick and mortar, or in some places, it's a house made of only limbs & straw. It is the people who turn it into a home. A home where those who abide therein, call forth their many talents, created by love. Their creative talents that are meant for such a time as this.

A house that love turns into a home.

Or a mansion. Depends on whose eyes one is looking through.

Being a child that was born during the aftermath of the Great Depression, where soup lines were formed to feed the hungry, and gas was rationed for those who owned a vehicle. I was a child trained under the wisdom of parents who only had what the land could provide for them. "Waste not, want not" was a mantra in our household. We were grateful for the food put in front of us, never questioning if there might be something more (or different)...never realizing just how "poor" we were. 

I was a child that got giddy with excitement when her dad said, "Go ahead. Reach into my pocket and however much your hand can pull out is yours." Pulling out only one dime felt like I had just won the lottery. Most days, it meant we could go for ice cream after chores.

This child looked at the world a bit differently than what I have observed in this day and age. Times have indeed changed. Or maybe it's just that I have grown up and have been granted more than what was experienced as a child. But I will never forget my roots. I'll never forget the life lessons taught as one growing up knowing self-sufficiency. 

Regardless of life's pitfalls, my heart is full of gratitude for the life given me, and the provision that is always right in front of us...waiting to be accepted. The ups, the downs, the hardships, the fears, the hopes, the down right disappointments, at times. All of it. 

God always sees us through the difficult times and rejoices with us in the good times. His hope is that we will trust in his provision, especially when all our eyes see is lack. Do what we are able and leave the results up to Him. 

We only need to keep our eyes open to see beyond the "curb appeal" as to what can be, if we but put our hands, and our hearts to the task. God provided, now let's see how to make it our "mansion."

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

#mylife #myjourneyamongtheunseen #grateful #theforgottenway #seeingbeyondthenatural #Godprovides 

It Started with a Dying Azalea Bush

Funny how one thing leads to another.

It was a bush I was fighting to keep, only because it partially hid a bedroom I didn't want passersby to see into. It was becoming pretty straggly, even after D trimmed it back. It was old. It was tired. I understood.

One day, a couple of weeks ago, Dennis took me out to look at a gaping hole that had eaten its way into the front of the bush. I knew it was time. So we called our guy that had helped set a foundation for the incoming greenhouse around this same time last year. 

As Andrew looked the front of the house over, and after I had shared my vision with him, he said, "You know what would make the landscaping look really great?" In unison, he and I both said, "Paint the house."

I just looked at Dennis. He knew. We've had this discussion for several years now, but neither of us wanted to spend what it would cost to do something so time consuming. But that dang Azalea bush was now demanding something change quickly.

Plans were drawn up, and approved. A long-time neighbor of ours gave Dennis the phone number of a friend of his who has been in the painting business for 20 years, or so, and we dove headlong into a complete home make-over. Exterior only. Full house power-wash and paint job, and then front landscaping. It was time. Past time, actually. 

The painter and his power-washing guy, was first on the list, while our landscaper drew up a precise design, and had his crew make a trip out to pull all remaining bushes from in front of the house. It had to be a clean sweep of all things bushy. Now the painters had full access to the house.

Side Note: If you have ever thought about power-washing your house and driveway, but thought it an unnecessary project, you should reconsider. I was amazed at the difference it made. Everything (and I mean everything) looked so fresh and clean! Top to bottom. Even the screened in back porch. Everything looked almost new, with a 1900's vibe.

Time for the paint to show us what a difference it could make on an old house desperately needing....something. Choosing the "just right" paint color was a decently difficult task. After several considerations, we settled upon a color called "Cityscape" from Sherwin Williams. We had never met the guys assigned the task, but they were thorough, detailed, and so very friendly. What a job they had! We have a fireplace, so the brick on the chimney had to be painted as well. They made quick work of it, though, and was finished sooner than I had imagined possible. Everything had to be gone over twice. Once for the prepping and putting on a primer, and then the actual paint.

Rain got in the way a couple of days, but all is well that ends well. Right? We had to reschedule our landscaper, but he was facing the same rain issues with a previous job he was trying to get done. So it all worked out just fine.

I will get to water the newly planted trees and bushes, every morning for at least 2 weeks, simply because they were put in the ground a bit late. No worries, though. Even with watering (front and back yard together takes about an hour), I still go out a couple (or 3) times a day and just look at everything. It's so refreshing to see our house looking a bit more like the neighborhood. Well...SOME of the neighborhood. 😂 

The custom made shutters will go up when they arrive, and then....we will be done. I think. I hope. 

I did take a pretty cold shower a few minutes ago. Which can mean only one thing. Our tankless heater is about to retire. UGH!!! 

Let me know what you think of the before and after pics, below. Quite a difference. Yes?

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

P.S.

Shutters hung and I'm questioning the stain color of choice. Hummmmmm....They may end up being re-stained black. We shall see. We shall see. 

What do you think? Let the dark brown shutters stay? Or stain them black?

BEFORE PIC

BEFORE PIC

BEFORE PIC:

Now that you know these are the "BEFORE" pictures... This is the Azalea bush that started it all. That and the rotting shutters you see behind it. 

Poor little house. I'm so sorry we ignored your needs for so long.

ARGGGHHHH... Can you believe the condition of those shutters? I'm sorry you have to see how your retired hair stylist let her house become something you might see on the "wrong side of the tracks." But life can be messy at times.

Time had come to let go of a bit of the money meant for retirement. Change had to happen at some point. Agreed? 🤦‍♀️ 

Just call me the tight wad that lives down the street.

And now, for the AFTER pictures. Please proceed with a tiny scroll...

AFTER PICS

AFTER PICs

AFTER PICS

South end of the house (where the dying Azalea bush was), now stands a Japanese Bloodgood Maple. Sorry about the light reflection on my camera lens. Makes it a bit hard to see.

These are only babies waiting to show us their full beauty. They are so pretty! So amazingly beautiful! 

North end of the house where other bushes were...some not so bad, others needing gone. So we had them all taken out so Andrew could work some magic for us. 

It's so fun going outside now, and just looking at the house.

Neighbors must be thinking that's a bit weird. That's okay. I like weird. Occasionally...

Front view of the house (now that I'm not embarrassed to show it). 😏😆

Unless one stretches the picture, it's hard to tell this used to be a red brick house. Partially. Some siding.

Soooo...dark brown shutters, or black???

Comment below. We all have an opinion. What is yours?

First the Natural...

In just a couple of days, I'll be another year older than this time last year, and although my mind tells me I haven't aged since 1987 (when mid-life hit), my body tells me otherwise. "Yes, my dear. You most certainly can now be identified as an 'elder' ready to stock pile Tylenol."

Although I still do well in the day-to-day, a different story emerges when my intelligence tells me I can still do the work I did as a 40 year old person. I don't particularly like being wrong.

We started a project last Wednesday (May 20th) and are set to finish it by this coming Tuesday (June 2nd), which just happens to be my birthday. We're calling it Mary's Final Wishes...only because it puts a decently sized hole in our budget. There won't be any more wishes this size, for sure.

There's one final touch to complete, then all is done! Hopefully. I may need to gather side items, but nothing as dramatic as this project has been. There may be before and after pictures, later, when things are completed. No promises...just thoughts hanging out in my head this morning.

But, like most posts of mine, this one is no different, in that what you just read is similar to most others. What I began with has nothing to do with what is mainly on my mind. Welllll....maybe a tiny bit. But not much more than that. 

Don't try to figure me out. Dennis has tried for 51 + years, to no avail.

While working on my Planner for the upcoming week, I noticed an encouragement, a challenge of sorts, I had written to myself just last week. Since retirement, I have gotten really lazy. Seriously! Well, lazy in my eyes. I haven't completely stopped moving, but it's getting too close for comfort now. 

Thus, the picture for this post. Bet you were wondering, right? I'm tellin' you ladies (and guys), once you stop being, stop doing, what you've done for eons of time, the Devil's Workshop shows up. We settle in and rest from all the busyness of past years, only to wake up feeling a bit useless. At least I have. It has taken me a full year to get my mojo back and now my body is screaming at me for ignoring it. UGH!!!

Life with purpose is coming back to a life well lived. A life filled with challenges amongst the pleasures. The year of a slate wiped clean is beginning to find actions put to the words written upon it...once again.

There's simply no one to blame, but myself, and since I am used to blaming Dennis for everything, I have been (for the last year) wallowing in my own demise. 

Note to Self: Transformation comes only after the physical is challenged.

Here's to forward movement!

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

Shadows That Don't Move

I can tell when I have too much going on in my head. Too many concerns. Too many anxious thoughts. 

I do have them from time to time. This is one of them. So, now I'm up at 3:33 AM holding my head in my hands. It's not that I WANT to be up at 3:33 AM. It's just that when my body woke me as nature called, my mind picked back up where it left off last night while preparing to retire for the day. I told it not to, but, alas...it apparently has a will all its own.

Trying to distract my ever active brain, this early morning, I scheduled 3 months worth of Dr. Livingood's supplements. No worries...the last go-around was about to run out. After patting myself on the back, I ventured into the kitchen for a second cup of coffee, and remembered I thought I had heard Dennis washing his hands about 15 minutes earlier, but he was not up and around that I could tell. Better go check on him, since hearing what sounded like moaning come from an area close to his bathroom.

Walking down the hall, now, to set the coffee on it's heating pad in the study because it takes priority over making sure D is okay. Done. Now to check in on Dennis. Heading to his bathroom, I hear another noise and now fears began their job of worst case scenarios. All is mostly quiet (as it should be at this hour), a shadow emerges from the left side of my peripheral vision. D's bathroom is on the right. 😳😳😳

I don't think I have EVER, in my entire life, lifted to a boxing stance. Intruders, take notice. Both arms fixed in place, much like a real life professional boxer. Ready! Come at me!!! Adrenaline doing its best to keep me level headed, I did not scream. Another phenomenon... 

Screaming is my normal response to surprise. ANY surprise. I just scream. 🤷‍♀️ Loudly...

Still in position to knock the shadow out, it steadies itself by standing very still. All I could see was the shadow of a decently large being. Where's the scream???!!! Lodged inside somewhere, I suppose. But that shadow came really close to having a bloody nose, which, I am pretty sure would have reciprocated with a similar action. OMG!!! Could you just make yourself KNOWN???!!! 

Of course not. That would have been way too easy. We don't do easy in this house...

Synopsis: Mind cleared. Ready to start the day, now.

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

P.S.

One decently large shadow for sale.

The Prater Name Tells All...

 

I've heard this to be a true statement, more times than I can count. The curiosity comes from why I am told this. Why is this something I need to hear? Is it because I like to talk...maybe a little too much?

Years ago, I sent off a DNA test for a look-see into our family history. Ancestry.com turns out to be an amazing site. Oh wow! So many interesting surprises coming down from my ancestors. 

One that intrigued me was the meaning of our last name. "Prater: the one who talks a lot." 🥴

Well...that puts things in perspective. LOL So, is there simply no hope that we Praters will ever experience wisdom? I'm going to say that cannot be a true statement. Completely, at least. I know of a significant amount of people baring the Prater name that have wisdom coming out their pores. 

While it may be true that the quiet is able to attain more wisdom, simply by listening, I can agree...but simply not as a stand alone truth. If one does nothing but talk, leaving no air space for anyone else in the room, how do they learn anything about those who are not talking? For which I need to apologize for this past weekend in the mountains. You know who you are...

But, questions were asked that took more time to answer than a mere sentence or two. However, I do wish I had shortened those sentences. I do wish I had heard more of the stories of those sitting quietly. I had questions, too. Their answers were much shorter than mine...even though one of them had Prater blood flowing through his veins. Must not have been a significant amount. Maybe more Johnson blood? I need to find out what THEIR name means. Hmmmm....

Looks like I still have work to do...

As always, here you will find me...in Marys World.

Stories for the Generations

MOTHER'S DAY 2026! 

It's a day that brings moms into the limelight. A day that recognizes if it weren't for mom's, this world would eventually die. Mom's built this world, in a sense. Am I right?

I've wished, so many times, to be able to hear my Momma's voice again. To be able to see her standing in front of me. Being able to visit, like we rarely were able to do during my growing years.

This year, my Mother's Day gift from our girls was unique. A gift I wish my own mom could have made use of. I had never heard of Remento before today. Created by a very inspired and talented young man, specifically for his mom, is now offered to the masses. How cool is that?!

A message from Lindsey & Warner and Meghan & Reagan...was tucked inside the intro. "I'm gifting you Remento so that we can have a book of your best stories. Simply talk to share your memories...no writing is needed! Together, we'll create a life story book that captures your voice and memories for generations to come."

At first, I was a bit concerned. Concerned that I wouldn't be able to come up with anything, or with things they would want to know about. But then...Remento (and Lindsey) has made it soooo easy by giving "prompts" for what the girls would like to know about. Meg may also be in on this, just didn't see her name in the collaboration section. Maybe she'll be feeding Lindsey questions she'd like answered, and along with Lindsey's, the stories will happen. 

I'm pretty excited about this. I can either do an audio, or a video of what I want for the day. My choice. Which is great...cause some days I'm pretty chill and the evidence shows in the mirror. 😁 Thankfully, it will only be 3 days a week. I can do that. Yet, I think I did read where I could record anytime I want. Doesn't matter how many times a day, or how many days. The prompts never go away. I can even hit "pause" if I get distracted (which is likely), and get back to it when I'm ready to.

Remento will save all my stories, videos, and audios...to be compiled into a book at the end of the first year of recording. I can upload pictures of years gone by, or anything I want. They may even get to see some of my beautiful flower garden projects. What an amazing idea!!!

In book form, each story that has taken the audio (or video) and put into written words, will also have a QR code that will give access to the video (or audio..whichever I've chosen that day) for that particular session. See what I mean?!!! 

Hopefully, this will be a cherished book, as it says, "for generations to come." I may be gone, but my girls (and their girls) will always have access to me...through this very thoughtful gift. Memories fade, but now they don't have to.  

Thank you, my beautiful girls!!!

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

Narrow Miss

It seems so very long ago. The year was 1973. I had just came back to my home grown stomping grounds. Not sure where that phrase came from, but this girl never "stomped" a day in her life. That would have been completely off her radar...until 1970. That's the year she got as far away from her ex as possible.

I had moved to Madison, TN. to start a "new life" and get my head on straight. An older sister and her husband had welcomed me into their home until I could find a place of my own. And I did that within a couple of months. The years between 1970 and mid 1973, were, ummmm....interesting. 

A story for another time. Possibly...

Why this memory is front and center of my thinking this early a.m. is curious to me. I had awaken from a dream of impossible circumstances that I had made it through. Mostly unscathed. Along a fence line were a few rows of strong, very tall trees and saplings. I was in a car that would by no means be possible to push through. They grew close together making it a challenge to even walk between them. But I knew there must be a way.

Thinking about this dream, I'm still in awe of how the trees gave way to me. It had been a challenge I accepted and it was as if the trees felt my determination and so granted me access. They simply leaned over to make a way through, when the car made first contact.

There's a story of excellence in there...

Time spent in Tennessee had to come to an end, however. I had stepped into a world I didn't belong in and soon found I was in over my head. The trees in the dream??? One would have to know from whence I came, to fully understand just how desperate I had become. Much like my thoughts of the "how can I get through this" in the dream.

The letter I had penned, ended with, "Please help me!" A letter written to the sister back home I could always count on to be there for me. 

Side Note: I'm pretty sure any of my siblings would have responded to that cry for help, should I have asked. However, coming from the large family that I did, there was only one, close in age, that I leaned on, and fully knew, during the growing years. She was the one making sure I didn't die.

Beck had came for me. Along with a brother and sister-in-law. Rush and Linda. They flew out from Oklahoma, to Tennessee, to rescue a little lost lamb. I am the "baby" of the family and I think may have been the most spoiled. At least that's what I've been told. Way too many times...

There are too many stories to tell of this trip to, and from, to lay out here. This particular post is about an event that took place once I returned to Miami, Oklahoma. With no job promise (another story to tell), for when I arrived back home, I took a job doing what I had done for the better part of my stay in Tennessee. Cocktail waitressing. It's where the real money was. Get 'em drunk and they will leave a wad of cash as a tip for serving them. I don't think I ever thought about what might happen to them after they left the establishment. As far as I was concerned, it would be of their own making anyway. Yep. I was a jewel back then.

It was what was suppose to be my 3rd night working, when everything went down. I hadn't liked the place from the first night there and by the second night had made my decision to leave. I had become accustomed to taking home everything I had made in a nights time of serving those who were out for what they perceived to be a good time. But, this place...well, they thought it would be great having the servers SHARE their tips with all the crew. Because, hey! We were a team! Right? 🙄 I think we all know how that works in an environment of this sort. 

You guessed it. Of course, the new girl gets to do most of the work, especially knowing where she came from and what she was capable of. They thought it great fun to watch while they stood at the bar and snickered. Talk about a party pooper. This new girl wasn't about to let that happen.

By the end of the second night of a very heavy shift, I had made my decision this was not the place for me. I had raked in a LOT of money working my booty off, while the others served only a table or two the whole night. They did help clean up my tables, however. Good call, so more could be seated and let the bimbo make their earnings for the night, while they sipped on whatever they wanted.

At the end of the shift, and after my tips (and their few pennies) had been laid out on the bar and divided up, I was one angry girl. I ended up with a fourth of what I had earned. I said, "How is this even close to being right? Enjoy the fruits of my labor," and left. Never to go back. 

Taking from the one who makes the money, to give to those who do nothing, sounds a little familiar, don't you think? I'll just leave that right here...

The very next evening, police raided the establishment. ALL the workers were hauled off to jail. 🤣🤣🤣❤️. I don't remember the why, but I do remember the consequences.. 

I think I missed a bullet with the decision made the previous night. When reading it in the Miami News Record, our local newspaper, my first reaction was shock, then I became very amused. No need explaining why.

And that is the story of how I escaped being a jail bird. Interesting...don't you think? LOL 

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

The Demons We Fight

Photo by Lindsey Lewis

Break downs. Emotional deficits. As years of feeling invisible, or unheard often deplete value, so do the years of being "too much," or "extra," deplete self-acceptance. Self-esteem plummets.

There. I said it.

It feels much like a hammer that consistently pounds, having no control to stop, will sub-consciously strike again, and  again...until the thing it is pounding is flattened completely.

Until there is no sign of resistance. Ever. 

Unless it wasn't what the hammerer perceived to be true, one could say, "Mission accomplished."

Deep sorrow. Deep sadness overtakes the individual that is fighting for their life. For the life they were given, but haven't  quite lived out as it was meant to be. Are they only imagining the feeling of unimportance, as they've been told time and time again?  

So many repetitive questions of, "Why are you like this?' "And, "Why are you always...(fill in the blanks)?"

Are they simply believing the insecurities that became a part of life while being convinced they weren't good enough? That they weren't pretty enough? Or lovable enough? After all, they should be grateful for what they have. Even if it verifies what they have feared all along.

At this moment in time, I do think it may be the key that unlocks the whys...

When we finally arrive at the end of ourselves...at the end of our abilities to become something different than what we've been made to believe; those are the times we see more clearly. Truth has a way of coming forward when lies have extended their stay and have been exposed through death. Death of spirit. Or of the ability to care any longer. With the crushing of the soul, comes the ousting of a once burning flame.

What we don't understand at the time of lifting our truce flag, is that even though the fire may have lost it's needed fuel to burn brightly, the embers still live beneath...unnoticed by many on-lookers, just waiting for the day the abused rustles, and gently blows on what remains hidden.

That's when truth becomes apparent. It's when truth becomes obvious. It's when truth shouts, "You are more than this!" "You've allowed another's voice to tell you who you are and you have listened to a voice other than the Father's."

It was He who sent you to be born into this world, and it is He who asks you to let him be the guide. For a purpose that no one, other than He, can show you. It is He who laughs at the storm and commands it to be still. 

Maybe she was "too much" most of the time. It showed up as she was fighting to live. As she was trying her best to see the real person that had been created by a loving God, but choosing the way of wrong choices, had unknowingly became less than what was promised her. 

Her ear was turned to the accuser, stopping the flow of goodness that had been poured out over her, as she turned a deaf ear towards the one who convicts (not condemns) of sinful nature. Waiting to free her.

Less than what was possible. Less than all the gifts she knew had been placed inside her, from the first burst of creativity to the last hope of importance. Never to be revealed because fear demanded those thoughts be left to collect dusty neurons that crusted over and cracked with age. Unusable... ~Psalm 139, Philippians 4:8

It's the battle demons love as they watch a life crumble. Demons who have been instructed to render God's kids useless while they walk this earth. Their job is to disable. Mentally bind the impressionable so they will never inspire another, encourage masses, or mentor nations with the truth of God's love for them. ~Matthew 28:19-20

The good news? 

It's a battle that can be won...if we but allow. ~2 Chronicles 20:15

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

#LifeIssues #myjourneyamongtheunseen #greatisHisfaithfulness #mindpower #winningthebattle

Waste Not, Want Not

Habits...we all have them, right? I just finished preparing my morning cup of coffee, with an added teaspoon of "mushroom coffee". Up until about 2 months ago, I had my coffee with the mushroom coffee additive purchased from www.weliveconscious.com. The taste had to be gotten used to. It wasn't my all time favorite, but it did seem to give this aging brain of mine a bit more clarity so that it could actually serve up words that I'd always known, but now have trouble getting them out my mouth.

Anyway...I decided to save a little money and use the new product my stand-by coffee has come up with. Lifeboost Coffee is the bomb. Seriously! Best coffee, even over my long love of Coffee Masters Highlander Grogg. They now have a mix of medium roast coffee with added Lions Mane and Chaga Mushrooms, called Cognition. And it is goooood! And, every dollar matters these days, right? So, because I have some left-over small canisters of the mushroom coffee that must be added to the regular coffee, I have started adding it to the Lifeboost Coffee that already has some mushrooms in it. Gotta use up what's left so it won't go to waste and eventually need tossed. If you understood what I just said, raise your hand. 

Actually, every dollar has ALWAYS mattered. And this is what brings me to the table this lovely, cool, Spring morning.

"Waste not, want not." One of Dad's favorite sayings. He had many, but this one was heard so often I don't think my brain will ever allow it to be deleted. I do believe it is why I save soooooo many things. Like CARDBOARD! Ugh! That's a totally different story. It's also why we live so frugally. 

But, I'm not alone in this. Dennis has shirts from the year he and Rusty (my nephew) went to Panama on a mission trip. The girls were small, so I'm thinking that was around 1986-87. Some 40 odd years ago. They still look great! If it's not thread bare, why replace it? 

Secret reveal: I threw a tee-shirt of his away (some many years ago), without telling him I was going to. It was a favorite of his. It was so fragile, it had tears in the shoulder seams, under the arms, and around the neck. It was basically a rag he shimmed over his head and wore proudly. It was comfortable, he said.

Side Note: I think there may be some left-over desire for not needing clothing that hails from the Biblical days of Adam and Eve. 

That particular shirt, I hated washing. He wouldn't let me throw it away. But since he had several....well...I thought I could get away with disposing of it while he was at work. I know. Pretty low of me. I totally didn't listen to that little voice inside my head that keeps saying, "Waste not, want not."

I still grieve over doing that. *wink *wink.

Be clean. Be a good steward of what you have. Take care of it and it will serve you for many a year. There is no shame in taking care of what one has.

Like our mode of transportation. We drive our vehicles until they leave us stranded by the roadside...several times. I'll never forget the party our bank had when I finally bought a new car. Going through the drive-through, my loan officer came to the window to congratulate me on the new purchase and to look it over. All the tellers, for as far as my eye could see, were cheering. 😂 "You deserve it, Mary!" That's what Cale said. Yep. We drive 'em until the wheels fall off. Waste not. Want not. The whole bank probably talked about the "old clunker Mary drives" while standing around the water cooler.

Being transparent here...I was becoming a little embarrassed driving into my business' parking lot. I felt it didn't match what a business owner should be driving. Yet..."Waste not, want not" kept flooding my brain. And it ruled over me. Thanks, Dad. 

Side Note: Two weeks later, while at my place of business, I get a call from D. "Hey. I'm stranded on Highway 43. Could you come get me?" So now...it was time to replace HIS worn out vehicle. And we did. Because we could. By never spending foolishly...

As one might suspect, there are many stories I could share along these lines. But today, it's about coffee, clothes, and vehicles. Only snippets, for sure.

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

P.S.

We learned frugality from our parents who went through the Great Depression of 1929-1939. Well, mine did, anyway. Mom was born in 1907; Dad in 1906. They married in 1925, and started a family. A family of 10 kids, plus one tragic pregnancy loss. The Great Depression lasted through 6 of my momma's pregnancies, and one loss. My parents used the land to provide vegetables and fruit...and raised chickens, cows, & pigs for protein sources. Yes...I came from a generation of survivors. Of truth tellers. Of hard workers. Of generous people. I am in awe of their resilience. 

Do We Ever Fully Let Go?

Yesterday, our oldest daughter, our amazing (in every sense of the word) Lindsey Erin, was over for a hair color retouch, with a few defining highlights thrown randomly (with distinct strategy) throughout that beautiful, and very curly mane of hers. I do love her curls...mainly because she knows how to care for them. She understands what North Carolinas humidity does to the porosity inside those lovely locks of hers, and prepares them for long-lasting beauty. 

But, it's a comment she made that has spurred this post. "I went by a road today where new asphalt was being laid, and it took me instantly back to Silver Dollar City," she said.

Back story (there always is one, right?). When our girls were little, we would visit Branson, MO., and it's theme park, Silver Dollar City. Built over a historical cave (the Marvel Cave), the park was known for hosting major festivals from Spring through the "An Old Time Christmas" festival. It was always the highlight of our trips. Most likely because of all the aromas that greeted us as we entered the park. The enticing smells of funnel cakes and Barbecue Brisket were smells we anticipated.

This place brought many giggles and big laughs, mostly because the girls loved tricking their momma on rides that took us through surprising falls and turns where water caused riders to come out looking like drowned kittens. Still can't believe how naive I was back in the day. Maybe it was because I trusted our little connivers a bit too much. "Hey, Mom. You and Dad can ride up front. That way you won't miss all the great things to see." Haha...very funny, you little stinkers. Verrryy funny. 🫣🙄🥴😂

Then there were the roller coaster rides that brought very high pitched screams as they plummeted riders to depths, twists and turns, without a moments notice. Well...if I'm being honest, there was a small amount of "notice" as the build up of anxiety increased with each beat of the heart. As the coaster slowly chugged its way to the top of the tracks where all one could see was sky...with no way back down to earths dirt where stability lived...where one could feel grounded again, without first falling at a high rate of speed on nothing but two tracks the rider cars hung to, trusting they would keep everything connected. One can see why I rarely gave over control of my life when visiting those monsters. Right? Unless, of course, my girls looked through me, all the way into my heart, with those beautiful puppy dog eyes. UGH! Kids! 😉❤️

But, the girls and their dad...they were in heaven. Even without Mom along for the rides they couldn't convince me to go on. Oh, I DO have stories about the rides at Silver Dollar City (and other themed parks...like Six Flags Over Texas). Great memories in the face of death by choice. And those usually had at least one Anderson family member present. Do the math...

So....about Lindsey's comment on smelling newly laid asphalt. It's a memory I suppose she'll always have nestled somewhere inside a cubicle in her brain where memories live forever. We all have that place, right? Didn't God preserve it for a reason? I think so. It serves us well through the years. 

Today, she was taken back to a time of innocence. A time of fun with her parents and sister, while visiting a very intriguing theme park that had soooo much to explore. With over 40 rides and attractions, it's been named the best theme park in America! And now I'm wanting to go for a visit, again. 😏

When we least expect it, a certain smell will bring to memory days gone by. Some are comforting, and some not so comforting. It's the "not-so-comforting" we don't like re-visiting. Yet, even those can make us stronger by helping us see just how far we've come. How much we have conquered. Then the happy ones pop up to say, "Remember all the fun times you had back then?" Memories to sooth us and cause us to remember love is forever.

Closing out this post, I would ask you: Doesn't it seem as if our brains are much like a computers mother board? Never lets go of a saved memory, right? 😉😂  That's probably why they call it the "Mother" board. We never let go. Most of the time we can bring to memory the things we are searching for, much like when we type in a question for our computer to answer something we have a need to know. Am I right? 

And then, there are days if feels as if our brain is out for lunch and can't be located. It closes for business, much like a computer will, all of a sudden, produce a blank and very black screen while we're in the middle of exploring. Or worse...having just finished a document not yet saved. 🤣

love and gumption...

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

How Late Is Too Late?

I've had a few friends in my lifetime. One close friend for each season of life. Until now. 

Oh...don't get me wrong. I do have those I call friend. Some closer than others. And I do think should I truly need time with any of them, they would be here as soon as the on-going demands of life would allow. And one I could most likely empty my thoughts on and she would listen and respond with kindness purposefully tucked inside the wisdom she'd share. She may even get really serious, and say, "Mary...you've got it all wrong. You've honestly over-thought this one." Maybe. But, this friend leans more towards being compassionate, even if she would prefer setting me straight in no uncertain terms. The only thing is...she doesn't live in North Carolina.

We live far enough away from each other, there's never a time for "Can I come over for coffee," talks. Or, "What's up buttercup?" talks. There's no laughing until our sides hurt. No searching for random (mapped out & planned) garage sales to pilfer through. That really was never my thing, anyway. 

Even when my friend and I of years long past would visit those crazy garage sales I rarely enjoyed going through others throw-aways...especially when they were just thrown in boxes where one must dig through the excess. But it was always fun to be with my friend, watching as she found treasures while I drank my coffee and ate a donut we'd picked up before heading out towards the maze of sales...all while sitting inside her cozy van. She was the "crazy" one. Ready for any fun anyone might throw her way. Me? I was the more serious one. Fun stuff usually scared me more than made me laugh. We were the pair, for sure. Great memories...

But, those days are over. The years have come and gone. The time for sharing what's inside of me seems to have no outlet. It's totally my fault. I have chosen to be a recluse of sorts. I've chosen to stay close to home. Even when I do venture out to a grocery store, there are rarely plans to shop elsewhere while out and about. There is very little contact with those who walk the planet, and very little desire to. And, there-in lies the problem.

Here's what I am missing, according to Scripture, because of the choices I've made since my last close friend stepped into eternity:

• Proverbs 17:17 says, "A friend loves at all times, and a brother (or sister) is born for a time of adversity." (Someone to help us through the rough times in life)

• Proverbs 27:17 says, "As iron sharpens iron, so one person sharpens another." (Oh boy! Is that ever true!)

• John 15:13 says, "Greater love has no one than this: to lay down one's life for one's friends." (They sacrifice their time, their own needs in the moment, to meet your needs of the moment.)

• Ecclesiastes 4:9-10 says, "Two are better than one. If either of them falls down, one can help the other up." (mentally and emotionally)

• Proverbs 27:9 says, "The heartfelt counsel of a friend is as sweet as perfume and incense." (A place of peace, in place of chaos..a safe place)

• Proverbs 18:24 says, "...there is a friend that sticks closer than a brother." (Pretty sure this one is talking about our Lord and Saviour, not necessarily a human friend...but could be).

I've never been one to accept the status quo. To just sit back and fold my hands as if there is nothing more to do. Nothing more that can be done in the time left. I've held on to whatever my life was at the time, so hard, it became difficult to release. And now...if feels as if I've allowed my hands to open enough to drop everything. Everything they've ever known to sustain life. Yet, I know that can't be true.

Why am I struggling with this season of life? It's not that I am unappreciative of what I have, nor of what God's grace has extended to me. I do love my life as it is. It doesn't have a ton of commitments, but just enough to make me feel needed (kinda...at least not replaceable). I do love my small, but comfortable home. I do love my family and hope I never have to live far from them. I even love the non-essentials of life, like my garden and the greenhouse that offers a spike in endorphins every time I walk through the door. Yet...

The transition of working, to not working, has been harder than I thought it might be. During work, I saw many people; people with different personalities, people with opposing views, people who I enjoyed visiting with and those who I shared life with.  

And now...it just feels as if I'm missing something. 🤔

Tell me...do you believe friends are necessary to have a fulfilled life?

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

#myjourneyamongtheunseen #retirementwoes #friendsforlife #peaksandvalleys #lifesheartbeat #worth

 

Is It A Mountain...or Just A Bump in The Road?

Let me begin with an acknowledgement that many of you reading this, most likely don't know me, personally. In fact, I know this to be true from the stats I read on my site. So, because of that, I want you to know I realize I'm a bit hard to understand at times. I can be evasive and a bit confusing because my brain tells me to be.

My world consists (much of the time) through metaphoric murmurings. In other words, I like comparing metaphors to real life situations. Doesn't everybody? 

Even though I thought it quite evident that was what I was doing, it was brought to my attention that the reader couldn't connect the dots. Thus this preview...

Anywho...

Today, I have a new sticker that I recently purchased off Etsy. When it arrived, I immediately placed it on my (also recently purchased) laptop computer.

It says, "I've survived too many storms to be bothered by a few raindrops." And of course...this is a metaphor. Mostly. Purposefully.

Many of you know, and remember with great fondness, my sister, Becky. She was my confidant, my protector, my inspiration, for many of my earthly years. She went home in 2008, but there are days I still feel her close by. 

Today is one of those days. My new sticker brought her to mind. She probably made sure of that...if indeed those gone on can reach earth from there. We are told that nothing will hinder us, once we are there. So...possibly heaven's citizens can touch earth's? Or maybe it's just our memories of them that inspire us.

Her thing was, "Is it a mountain to climb, or just a bump in the road?" Mountains take a lot of prayer and letting go of what we hold dear...that being control. Control of any given situation. Control of what (or who) we felt needed our guidance.

Bumps in the road were things we just needed to slow down for. Things that actually required control. Control of our emotions, our desires, our dang-its.

The sticker I found on Etsy reminded me of the storms of life this almost 79 year old has experienced. Storms that required laying down her own will for that of another so that she might survive until the storm subsided. 

And then it brought my thoughts to the raindrops now falling (metaphorically) that actually feel like a storm brewing. But what we fail to realize, occasionally, is that rain can be refreshing when we allow it to be. Rain can sooth us when we begin to see its purpose. Literally and metaphorically...

Still...it might be wise to cover ourselves in prayer, and those we hold close, before the incoming weather has a chance to become something much bigger...all-the-while realizing it could just be  raindrops falling around us. A re-set of sorts. A cleansing. Not a destructive storm. 

One never knows for sure...until it plays out.

Praying continually, here you will find me...in Mary's World.

Is Anything Too Hard for the Lord?

Stay with me for a short while...this one is short, but needs read in it's entirety to understand the point.

Life gets hard, even difficult to maneuver at times. It's in those moments I call to remembrance what God has promised me. 

"I will never leave you. Never forsake you." ~Hebrews 13:5 (Wherever I am, there He is!)

"I am as close as your breath." ~Genesis 2:7 (He has put His life inside my lungs, that I might truly live life to the fullest)

"All you need do is call my name and breathe me in. I give you life." ~Job 33:4 (There's no name as sweet and calming as the name of Jesus) 

We can do difficult things because of His guidance. But we must listen. That's all He asks of us. To follow the sound of His voice. Do what we know to do, and listen...

As I listened to Genesis 18 this morning, a piece of the Scripture was dropped into my heart that caused me to hit "pause" and sit for a bit thinking about it. It wasn't as strong as a full on body slam...but close.

"Is anything too hard for the Lord?" ~Genesis 18:14

Sarah, Abraham's 90 year old wife, laughed when she overheard a conversation between God (an angel of the Lord) and her husband. God had promised them a son that would usher in a lineage of people that would eventually give the world a saviour. Years ago!!! And here he comes to confirm that promise years after they were waaaayyyy too old. Honestly, I think I may have laughed, too, at that point. 

They had waited so long, Sarai (her name at the time) gave up hope of it ever happening, so decided to take matters into her own hands (we've ALL done this, right?) and do what any true Israelite would have done (even though she was Hebrew) and produced a child through a surrogate, of sorts. Her hand-maiden. That was how it was done back in the day.

As I sit here, pondering the message God was putting out there for these two; one past the age of entertaining the act of doing his part in this processes, and the other past the age of actual child bearing, it had to be a bit daunting...and even laughable. Don't you think?

And yet...is anything too hard for the Lord? 

The God of all creation, who hung the stars in space and caused the world to rotate as He filled it with life-giving creatures, plants, and vegetation? Is anything too hard for Him? Yeah...I think not.

The impossible things of life is where God does His best work! (Read that again)

In the things most difficult for us, the things we have tried so very hard to control and can't seem to make much of a difference in...there He is! THERE HE IS!!! So not a one of us can boast as to how we made things good, even great, as hard as we try. Things we have given everything for, and yet they seem to still be chaotic, at best. Unsolvable...

That's where our God steps in and says "Watch what I will do for you." ~I Samuel 12:16 

Is anything too hard for the Lord? 

Ask Him for ears to hear clearly. There may not be instant gratification, but there will be peace of mind while walking through the mire of any given situation. Just knowing He is for us...not against us, will help us to hear directions more clearly.

Breathing in His goodness, here you will find me...in Mary's World.

Is Love Blind?

It's a show on Netflix. Is Love Blind flashes across the opening episode as the show begins. A "show" in the most literal terms. 

Hopeful singles prepare for a marriage partner by visiting small rooms, known as "Pods," that are sectioned off where neither participant can see the other. All they have to go on is the voice of the one they're "dating", and the words that are being said to them by the other. All to see if there could possibly be a connection of sorts. Guided mostly by feelings and blind trust. First two mistakes...

Judge me if you must, but there are times when walking in the undesirable places of this world, wisdom grows. But, when we say, "I would never do that," we are actually confirming we are better than the ones who are doing "that". And...we may be. At that time in our lives. Better, not because of who we are, but better because we have found truth. Found what gives real peace as we follow our life's journey. And it's not in the "try before you buy"...at least not in this instance.

John Bradford, a 1550's Christian martyr, said this: "There, but by the grace of God, go I." At a time when Mary (Bloody Mary) Tudor ruled England, and many were being put to death, burned at the stake, because of their Protestant faith, John was humbled when seeing so many having to die for what they believed. Yet, he too, was eventually martyred. We all are no better than the next. We've just walked different paths.

I've walked in the dust of the earth, and I've walked on freshly swept streets, so-to-speak. I have experienced both sides of dark and light. Both sides of fear and peace. I prefer peace...

So much could be said about this particular Netflix series. But, I won't. It has been some time since last indulging, because the program quickly creates an unsettled feeling inside of me. It's hard to watch these clueless people humiliate themselves...and me. Just being a part of the human race, causes me to wince just a little when watching people willingly open themselves to ridicule. 

Anyway...Is love blind?

I would say there are times we all can experience blindness, yet have sight. Season 10 just wrapped up. I stumbled upon it a few nights ago when looking for something to relax with before bedtime. I know. TV is usually a poor choice. Whether it is just a news station, or a Chicago PD show. Worst things to end a day with. But, I do. Most nights...

At the end of each season, Is Love Blind, has a Reunion segment. It was that, that I stumbled upon. My immediate thoughts were, "Hmmm...I wonder who got tricked this time," and "How bad was it?" It's the nosey side of me. If I can find someone less intelligent than myself, I win. Right? Ughhh...

Remember the statement I made in the 3rd paragraph of this post? The undesirable places creating wisdom, part? Welllll....this particular reunion of season 10 participants, struck a note in me. Can't say that has EVER happened before. One of the couples that actually made it to the marriage altar, and were thought to have a "happy ever after" life in front of them, didn't. 

Four months in and the guy leaves. His reason? "I couldn't live up to the standards required because of trust issues with her past relationships with men." She went into the relationship with binoculars. Fully expecting her worst fears to transpire. Poor guy didn't have much of a chance. And he was young, so hadn't fully understood that marriage is a selfless life. One where we give our all, and expect good things to return to us. But if they don't, we keep giving to the one we claim to love, even in the hard times. Selflessly...

And that is what hit me...

So many of us carry baggage from past relationships into new relationships, walls up and ready to engage should any appearance of possible betrayal come front and center. We listen for it. We expect it. And, I'm not saying we should totally let our guard down; past hurts and wounds are real, and we want it all behind us. Hoping there is someone who will treat us as the gift we are. (Did I hear a laugh just now?) The gift that needs cared for. The gift that needs cherished.

Trust is earned. Or is it innocent until proven guilty? Same thing, right? Let's be honest, here. We all judge. We do. How can we not? The voice of reason is loud and clear. Even when looking at a books cover, we make a judgement call most of the time. Is this book something I want to engage with? Then you open the cover and read the forward. That tells us if we should be interested, or not.

We do the same with humanity. We look at the "cover". Does it impress us? We read the forward by listening to what comes out of the mouth. That should be our first stop. How do they communicate? The way they use language is very important, in my book. The expressions they provide tell us more than most realize. I am constantly reading body language (which my husband laughs at). That's the way I approach anyone. Friend or foe.

So, yes. Innocent until proven guilty. However, the statement that came from this Is Love Blind guy, caused something inside me to take notice. Something that made me ask myself some hard questions. Something that made me ask just how hard has it been to live with me? I think I'm a pretty great gal, yet some would say Dennis has been a saint throughout our marriage. Which I've never been able to figure out. We both have had our fair share of being an instigator, and he is a great guy. But sainthood??? He works on it from time to time. And then there's me. I'm a lot. 

Still a gift from God, but a lot at times...

Being a sharpening tool, here you will find me...in Mary's World. 

#myworld #lifeasiseeit #myjourney #islovetrulyblind #innocentuntilguilty

P.S.

Love is a choice. We choose. We learn what love truly means. 

Locked Brakes...

It often feels as if someone has put on the brakes, while simultaneously commanding the body to find its sweet spot of rigor mortis, or numbness. 

Once the brakes have been applied to the ordinary everyday life, it's easy to sit back and "let the good times roll." Or to stare aimlessly out the study window. Trust me. I know something about this. Eight months in, and my body is yelling for attention. The kind that allows it to move more than a few times a day. It's not known what to do with nothing to do for approximately 78 years, 8 months, & 2 days. A new world has now emerged, and the owner of this body doesn't know quite what to pivot towards. Still...it's a pretty decent life. It's just that this old body is having a bit of "stiffness" settling in. It still keeps up, but has to try a bit harder these days.

I'm finding out just how disciplined I am, really. And let me tell you...it's scary! I keep hearing real voices say its time to take my ease. "You've worked hard your whole life." "You've earned this rest." "It's okay to relax." Right. When has anyone known me to relax? I've been a pretty tense person most of my life; a fairly high maintenance gal.

The problem??? Relaxing feels sooooooooo good!!! Until it doesn't...

Today is a beautiful misty morning, with showers expected in just about 3 hours. This kind of weather is calming when I take my walks. Sadly, I've been relaxing just a bit too much these days, and walking has become a spur-of-the-moment deal. Not good discipline. Oh, I keep the laundry up (most of the time), keep the house tidy (most spaces), and visit the greenhouse to care for those who can't care for themselves. But that's about the scope of my busyness.

I do keep my early mornings open to sit with the Word, stay still and listen for the slightest bit of wisdom that comes only from above. This morning I fell asleep (shhhh...you love it too when your child falls asleep on your lap) while listening to a reading from Luke 9 where Jesus corrals his disciples and tells them it's time for them to take up the staff as they proclaimed the kingdom of God. Yet, discipline doesn't come easy for these guys. Nor for anyone.

Even though they had been given the authority needed for what they would encounter (we actually have that as well) they were still in the learning stage, and quite frankly, acted as though they were toddlers just learning to walk. Because they were. 

As the day wears on, Jesus informs his disciples about the upcoming trial and death. Not once, but twice. He knew they were likely to brush it off and not really consider what it actually means to be a follower of Christ. I'll let you find out on your own. Just read Luke 9. There, you will get a feel for it.

Spoiler Alert: It requires discipline to the nth degree.

Soooo...back to brakes being applied in my world of worldly discipline, that also requires a full tank of discipline. When one has a responsibility, such as a job provides, one rises to meet the challenge. Daily. It's just a given if you want to eat, pay the bills, and lay your head at night, in peace. Once that is no longer a thing to be had, well, responsibility weakens. Especially until one pivots and declares a new challenge. A new way forward. Requiring discipline to once again become engaged.

Could someone pry my foot off the hold in place slot, or please, just inject me with imagination blockers? 

I don't mind the slow roll; just don't want to stop and stare.

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

When Everything Goes Dark

What would you think if, as you were driving before the sun came up, and the head lights beams suddenly went dark? What would run through your mind as you tried to remember how to manually turn them back on? 

The year is 2026, and humanity has increased in knowledge so much so, that everything is easier, faster, and is done with precision. We barely have to think for ourselves these days. It seems as if everything is ran by what has been "wired" into the main frame of anything needed to navigate life as we know it. Right? 

Thus, when I open the door to my car I fully expect, fully depend on, that car doing what I need it to do. I never second guess it. It's the norm...as it should be. Today's vehicles automatically know what is expected of them before any action by a human has been taken. I need not do anything, other than push the magic button to command it's attention to detail, as the motor beings its purr, the lights illuminate, and then...as I shift into gear, all four doors lock instantaneously. It's ready for me...for the destination I direct it to go.

But...what happens when the car decides IT wants to be in control? Including taking control of the brakes & the accelerator, as the pitch black atmosphere consumes us?

That's exactly what happened around 3 AM this morning. 

Dennis was in the passenger seat, being the silent partner, as the dark sky surrounded us. Rarely having the need to call my attention to being an unintentional driver, he must have dozed off. It was early...

When everything went black this morning, he still sat in silence, as if all was as it should be. But all was not as it should be. We were driving in the dark, with no way to see what was in front, in back, nor what surrounded us. No other cars on the road at the time.

"Dennis! I can't see!" I said it multiple times with no response coming from my partner. It was when the sound of loud horns (ah...there they are) being laid upon, yet not until my car began eating dirt, did I hear the voice of my beloved. He had reached over, trying to find access to lights, when his voice split the silence. "Mary! You're going off the road!" I already knew that...

Since my brakes weren't working, yet not considering the very real possibility of hurting someone else, I turned the wheels to the left trying to get back upon the road. I must have been in shock. Why would anyone choose that path? Thinking about it now, I really don't know why I didn't just let the car do what it had set out to do. Kill us both. Still...I don't understand how I had control in that moment, but not later.

As I made it back upon the blacktop, the lights suddenly came on. I had swerved into a one lane intersection, when the car stopped all by itself (no control of the accelerator, nor the brakes, remember), and we were waiting for what would happen next. It didn't take long for the car to start moving again. This time, slowly inching its way backward as the steering took ALL control out of my hands. 

The car was backing up around the pickup truck sitting just to my left that was in a lane separated from ours by a grassy median. I was beginning to wonder where in the world we were. I had never seen a roadway so complex.

The sun had not risen just yet, so we were still clueless as to most of our surroundings. Even with lights now burning through the blackness, our location was not known. The car continued to slowly make its way around the back of the truck and continued across to what looked to be a gas station parking lot. I kept trying to stop the dang metal (well...mostly fiberglass), demon that was holding us captive...but to no avail.

It was when the car began to pin a woman against a wall of the building, that I woke...still sitting in my office chair, lamp light on, and eyes covered with a dark cloth. What a relief!

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

Choices

My 43 yr. old self...

If at first you don't succeed, try, try again!

I don't know about others, but for me, I must have a plan of action decided upon, or the hours of the day slip past me ever so quickly! Before I blink a couple of times, I am yet again flipping the calendar month to the next.

Today is the first day of the rest of my life. Yours, too. The next 12 hours (or more) are ours to use as we see fit. How we use them is totally up to us. We must decide, then follow through. If I don't make a clear decision, the day has been for naught. Nothing (or very little) will be accomplished. And there is no one to blame but ourselves. It's absolutely no one else's fault. We gotta stop shifting the blame. Unless a gun is being held to our head, the decision is 100% ours to make. Yes...we may feel we must make a decision we'd rather not because of family issues. Regardless, the decision is ours. We must weigh the consequences of our choice(s), then choose.

While it's great (some days) not having a "have to" agenda, if I'm not careful, I will while away the hours and find rest at night not a thing to be had. I'm still working on this retirement thing. So far, it's been nice in that my time is my time. But there are days I'd rather it be just a bit more active. I'm working on it.

My dad often reminded us as kids, that when we work hard while work is to be had, we could lay our heads upon our pillows at night and rest well because it was an earned rest. Always speaking the truth in any situation, was also a real thing and was the needed choice if one wanted to truly rest. Day, or night. He wasn't wrong...

That, among many other things, found a nesting place in my mind over the years of training that my parents provided. I'm so glad he and mom taught truth, regardless of how it made us feel in the moment. They trained us to live an honest life. A life of giving an honest days work for an honest days wages. And always being truthful...even when it hurt. And more so, we learned helping others gave us a sense of worth. We never begrudged helping where help was needed.

Soooo...today, I am planning the course of my week. Forward movement will be made. Even if it hurts in the moment. The results will be (I hope) phenomenal!

Carry on, soldier!

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

True Valentine Love

Waking early...not uncommon...I made my way to the kitchen to start the coffee and prep for the day. My body was weary and my eyes heavy.

With coffee cup filled to the brim and a KIND Protein Breakfast Bar in hand, I settled in the study...again, not uncommon. But then, what was soon to transpire, was something that hasn't happened on the regular for quite some time. I wasn't prepared for it, but received it with gratitude. God always knows what I need, and will show up when I least expect it. This was no different and I recognized it as being straight from his heart to mine. 

I had finished listening to TTW (a guided 10 minute audio journey through the Bible), when I felt the need to stop. To just rest for a bit.

Today's reading had been from Genesis 28 where Isaac was close to death and was going to bestow a blessing on his eldest son, Esaus. But, Rebecca, his wife...came up with a gigantic plan to deceive him (Problem #1) and cause the blessing to fall on Jacob (her favorite son). The birthright, AND the blessing was rightfully Esaus'. Doesn't sound like this will turn out so good, right? 

Isaac (the dad) was what we would call "legally blind" today. Pretty much couldn't see anything. So Rebecca (the mom) got this bright idea to have Jacob (younger son) bring her 2 of their best goats so she could slay them and cook up a tasty meal for Isaac before Esau returned home from hunting his wild game, cooking it up just right, and then serving it to his dad (as Dad had requested...that dad's wifey overheard) so HE (Jacob) could receive the blessing that was not rightfully his. Confused yet?

Something you should know: Esau was a very hairy dude. Jacob, not so much. The Bible says Jacob had smooth skin (Problem #2). Well, Mom had that covered, as well...literally. She used the skin from the goats (very hairy), to lay over Jacobs arms and neck (tricky lady), just in case Isaac reached out to touch Jacob while giving the blessing. One thing they couldn't change was the difference in the two brothers voices. Isaac recognized it, yet ignored it. What?! I've never understood this crazy decision. Was he in THAT big of a hurry to throw out the blessing with the baby and the dish water? (Problem #3)

This is a really great read, so I won't explain how this played out (it's so interesting), nor the outcome of this great deception. Mostly because it's not what this blog post started out to be. I just got carried away while explaining what I was doing this morning before the message God sent me, via brain waves. Again...not so uncommon. You can read the completion of the story in Genesis 27. You should keep reading through Genesis 28, though. It's quite the story! And who said the Bible was boring, anyway??!! Most likely those who haven't read it. Or who opened to the book of Numbers and read that.

Anyway...my eyes were hurting just a bit and I was very tired, so I grabbed the cloth I use to cover my eyes, when in my study, to shield out the bright sunshine that welcomes me most mornings around 8:10 AM. The sun is positioned just right, at that time, and the beams filter through the shades so precisely it startles me occasionally. With dark cloth over my eyes, I lean back in the chair to rest.

Defined dark clouds form in the heavens, moving about, giving way to a plethora of stars gleaming as they move around, twinkling in the dark sky. Then, the clouds slightly move out of sight, revealing beautifully snow capped mountains, with what appeared to be people standing on the edge of some of the mountain tops. They were so far away, I couldn't tell who they might be. Just people.

Suddenly, faces began to appear, slowly revealing who they were. It's as if they were quietly floating through the sky coming towards me. Watching me. Looking straight at me. One of those faces was my sister, Becky. She left this world in 2008, but there she was. With my eyes still closed, and still under the cloth that shielded them from natural light, I watched, not wanting to miss anything. 

The dark clouds gave way to pure white clouds, as tiny hearts ushered in the medium sized hearts that gave way to much larger hearts, then back to smaller hearts. So many hearts! I didn't hear anything, but it felt like a symphony of love in the form of hearts. Hard to explain, exactly. But it was beautiful. It was comforting. It felt real.

Admittedly, I have been under a bit of stress these last few days. Mostly, the entire week, to be honest. Heavy on my chest, to the point of having to take a beat and relax. I wasn't up to doing much as the battlefield of the mind played out. I was sad. Feeling a bit inessential. It happens, occasionally. Not often, just occasionally.

So, maybe it was just my brains way of protecting me. Of shoring itself up. But it felt like God...

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

P.S. God's love surrounds us. Always. We just have to recognize it in order to feel the freedom it gives.