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?