The Sound of Silence...

Sometimes, not often, I wake with a song on my mind. The only time I really pay any mind is when I haven't thought of the song in a very long time. 

I pay attention to the music playing in my head if I didn't go to bed with it running through my mind. Because I think surely it was placed there for a purpose. Maybe something I needed to hear.

This is one of those times.

A song that made the charts in the 60's (somewhere around '65), it soon became a well listened to song. As I ground a few coffee beans early this morning, the grinder started pelting out, "Hello darkness, my old friend...I've come to talk with you again..."

Late yesterday afternoon, I became fearful. It was the type of fear that used to slowly creep through me from many years ago. All my red flags started yelling at me to be quiet (something I'm not really known for). I was to withdraw as quickly as possible and take the path that leads me to shutting down where darkness creeps in. It's an old friend (like the song says).

Silence hasn't always protected me, but it was always a place I went to in hopes of not being found. A place to hide. Mentally and physically.

Although this is not meant to be a gloomy post, it IS meant to be a warning...a "please listen" post. No one is exempt from the wooing of silence, especially during stressful times. Situations arise that make us want to withdraw. Sometimes removing oneself from an area is necessary. But while in that dark place, we must be aware of the exits. They are there. But there will be times we must look hard for them, and then walk towards the exit where light shows through.

Should we decide to give in to the silence, it will grow like a cancer cell that is becoming established. I walked this path many years ago. I know of its destructive ways. And now, today...it wants to find its way back to me when the atmosphere is charged with aggression. One of my trigger points...

The questions needing addressed are:

1) Why are we here again? 

2) How can we shorten the time spent here? 

3) Will we find anyone who actually listens and cares? Or will we be met with indifference, or a fake apology? Simply meaning, "I'm sorry...until the next time I become frustrated with you."

Below you will see the lyrics to the song. You think you know this song...but please read the words slowly. Let them sink in and hear Garfunkels heart beating as he wrote while sitting in the dark tiled bathroom of his parents home in Queens, NY. It is said he would turn out the lights and write in the dark while water ran from the faucet in a near by sink.The words, in my opinion, are prophetic...

The Sound of Silence, by Simon and Garfunkel:

"Hello darkness, my old friend

I've come to talk with you again
Because a vision softly creeping
Left its seeds while I was sleeping
And the vision that was planted in my brain
Still remains
Within the sound of silence

In restless dreams I walked alone
Narrow streets of cobblestone
'Neath the halo of a street lamp
I turned my collar to the cold and damp
When my eyes were stabbed by the flash of a neon light
That split the night
And touched the sound of silence

And in the naked light I saw
Ten thousand people, maybe more
People talking without speaking
People hearing without listening
People writing songs that voices never share
No one dared
Disturb the sound of silence

"Fools" said I, "You do not know
Silence like a cancer grows
Hear my words that I might teach you
Take my arms that I might reach you"
But my words like silent raindrops fell
And echoed in the wells of silence

And the people bowed and prayed
To the neon god they made
And the sign flashed out its warning
In the words that it was forming

And the sign said, "The words of the prophets
Are written on the subway walls
And tenement halls
And whispered in the sounds of silence"

Art Garfunkel described the track as being about "the inability of people to communicate with each other, not particularly intentionally, but especially emotionally, so what you see around you are people unable to love each other."

The lyrics address modern alienation, emotional numbness, and how people interact without truly listening. The climax warns against an indifferent society bowing to a "neon god" of commercialism and distraction. The silence in the song represents growing indifference, numbness, and the danger of ignoring deep social and personal problems.

Indifference becomes reality and there are no longer feelings of love...but of darkness. It slowly makes its way into families...the families that make up society. It may have began innocently enough, but will soon stretch out into the world in which they live and move.

The warning?

If we allow this cold, mechanized disconnection, allowing the words of an inner need that has been spoken, fall flat like silent raindrops into an empty well...the cancerous spirit that has developed over time, will grow and eventually destroy whatever was once felt between the individuals known to the world as peacemakers.

Game over...you lost.

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

Like a Gazelle...

Yesterday, while at the park enjoying the swiftness and ease our grand daughters seemed to have on their small scooters, I took in the freedom they demonstrated because of the balance they have...the control of what pushes them forward. 

Then, our Lindsey, a mature young woman and the one that Warner calls "Momma", leapt upon the pump track and began waving her arms while running behind the girls on their scooters. They thought it hilarious, and Reagan (Meg's girl) labeled her "A Lindsey." "Look!, it's a Lindsey!" 😂

As she tired (one and a half times around the track), she jumped to the ground, and said..."Like a gazelle."

And...if you know me even a little, you know where my mind went. Immediately. "He makes my feet like hinds feet and sets me upon high places." ~Psalm 18:33

A hind, is a gazelle...like a female deer.

Everything seems to rotate around balance...

With balance, one becomes sure-footed. Foundational. Equipped to excel, even in the face of difficulty. Spiritual stability creates mental stability...mental stability creates worldly stability.

And who wouldn't want stability? I would much rather have solid ground than trying to walk of fluidity. It's the goal, however. To be able to walk upon injustice and the ever changing landscape of what life lays at our feet.

So, I look at the deer. Their agility. Their speed. Their balance. 

I have found a new appreciation for the deer that roam residential areas here, in NC. They have no problem coming up to the borders of your yard while they scope out the immediate dangers that may be present. Many times you must look hard to see them, as if they are camouflaged in their surroundings...until they choose to be seen. 

Once they determine your yard to be safe, your garden will become fodder for their hungry tummies...so, there must be a balance of what you allow, if you, yourself, want to enjoy the bounty you worked so hard to produce.

Our choice is always to set boundaries without doing harm to the deer. Not every human can be trusted to do that, however. And they can sense it. They do love a safe yard. One where they have no problem bringing their wobbly legged babies to...that soon become sure footed like a gazelle runs on mountain tops.

Soon, barriers mean nothing to a deer. They can leap over most obstacles without falling prey to animals that lay-in-wait for them to appear. Or to human predators. Because they are so quick and sure footed. Oh, to be like a gazelle...reaching high places, away from the dangers that want to over-take.

Mountain tops are great. Beautiful, even. Fresh...with less danger to encounter than in the valley.

However...nothing much grows on the mountain tops. To find life, one must ascend to the valley below. Where danger may be laying in wait. Yet, it's where one receives strength of body, and of mind. 

We are trained in the valley of despair. Of loneliness. Of difficulty. Where choices must be made to follow the crowd, or listen to what was instilled in us as we were being formed inside our mother's womb. 

We must never lose sight of that still, small voice that alerts us to danger, and directs us in the way we should go. The voice that helps us make difficult decisions because we understand right from wrong. Unless we have ignored it for too long, we'll always be guided to places that give life...instead of take life.

Timidity cannot survive, if a place of joy and security are desired. Yet, boldness and courage are born from adversity. Mentally, physically, and spiritually.

Living out our lives, we either learn to trust, or to run away from. Running is not always bad. Just as the deer in my yard run away if they think I am out to hurt them. 

But, when they are able to stand still and look me in the eye, they see I am harmless...or if I'm there to hurt them.

Facing our fears...enemies of our strength and looking them in the eye, so-to-speak, is a must. But only if we desire freedom more than living in fear. 

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

P.S. Habakkuk 3:19, Psalm 18:33, and Samuel 22:34, speaks of "hinds feet" and is used as a metaphor for divine strength and spiritual resilience. It symbolizes God giving a person the ability to rise above life's difficult obstacles, stand securely in high or dangerous place, and to move forward with joy and confidence rather than fear.

*Recommended reading: Hinds Feet Upon High Places by Hannah Hurnard

 

When Life Presents Struggles You Didn't See Coming

Life has its hurdles...

No one is exempt from experiencing the pain of missing someone; at some point in our lives, we'll all experience loss in one form or another.

I have lived a long life and now find myself to be closing in on the finish line. I have regrets. I have had times of surrender, and times of refusal to surrender. I've had times of not knowing exactly what surrender would look like...or even if it was a requirement in order to live a life where peace was even remotely possible.

For the most part, my adult life has provided me freedom to follow my hearts desire. I became accustom to that solid foundation, knowing I was respected and had the assurance of being trusted. Yet, as time disappears, it occasionally feels as if that doorway to freedom is quietly closing shut. I have begun to notice it happening more frequently now, and I'm feeling a bit trapped with no visible exit strategy...no hope of change. I can't envision it getting better. Only worse as time evolves.

I'm a runner.

The fight or flight reflex has been strong inside me since I was 9 years old, and has only gotten stronger as age over-takes me. Fear became a cautionary tale early in life, and it consumed me. My triggers are many...

Looking back, if I could tell my younger self anything, it would be, "Be bold. Stand your ground. Refuse mediocrity and those who would try to control you for their own gain."

Running from something is only good when you're in danger. Mentally, or physically. Running, however, creates enough fear where it's hard, if even possible, to ever trust another person fully. Running will make sure you never have a natural foundation to build upon. Running creates loneliness. Because runners are without family. 

Running toward something...something that will grow you into the person you were created to be...well, that's another story. Facing adversity. Facing difficult places...running towards the roar that is trying to create fear, just might create resilience. Facing and conquering our demons will give us wings to fly. Using that adversity...that same storm...to lift us higher than the injustice of it will give us eyes to see beyond the storm.

It's for the courageous, not for the weak or timid. The timid will shrink back. The bold will conquer.

There are different ways to run, however.

The mental way is just as entrapping, or as liberating (depending on which way one chooses to run), as the physical one. "Choose your poison," it's been said. Running away from, mentally embeds fear that grips your thoughts and pulls every negative "what if" inside your thinking. Peace can't be found there when all that commotion is happening. Running towards, hard though it may be, provides strength to face another day, with possible solutions showing themselves true.

And just as fear builds, so does strength. We must choose which direction to run...

I know why people want to feel wind beneath their feet. Or "beneath their wings" as the song goes. I know why freedom is so important. Because I have been bound...both mentally, and physically. I've seen the dark side of life, and I've witnessed the side where light pierces that darkness.

But...the mountain I have recently encountered comes from a rope that would entangle me again.

At this point in my life, I need to be free of past entanglements. Free of demands. Free of expectations. Free to live. Free to be me. Free to make my own choices, and free to face my own consequences. Free...

I realize such a desire may sound selfish. It may sound as if I want to shirk responsibilities. To not care about anyone other than myself. I do realize that.

But you would be wrong to think that is what I want. I love responsibilities. I love being wanted, needed, useful, and having purpose. I love a solid foundation. I love being seen by those I care the most about. Without that...I want to run.

Simply stated, I must be free to come and go as I please, without being weighted down by what anyone else may think of my choices as to where I should, or should not go and how I should divide what time I have available to me, with whomever, or wherever, someone else thinks I should spend that time. Must I deny my own choices, for someone elses?

I've walked that path already. Many, many years ago. I will not be entrapped by it again.

If I have only 3 days to use as I see fit, I need to not have quilt laid on me because I don't choose to use a portion of those short three days, away from my destination...from the only time I have for those I rarely see (it's been many years for a few of them) and will most likely never see again this side of heaven. Just to use it for being somewhere other than with them. 

When anyone tries to impose their ways upon me, tension mounts, triggers begin going off, and my fight or flight kicks in as my body responds internally. It begins to crumble, feel weak, and often nauseous. 

Danger signals spark inside me telling me this night will be a restless one. Don't fall asleep. Stay alert. You're on your own. The next phase is coming...

Even though there really is no need for all this to be happening, the small signals that trigger memories find their way in. And the mountain that has presented itself (again), I have to climb (again). And I am weary of it asking for another round.

The most tiring of all? It's always my fault. "Why are you like this?" It's as if something is wrong with me, and their words, their expectations, thrown out is not the problem. It's just me. I'm the problem. 

This kind of coercive control can't be reasoned with. It's as if their expectations are more important than the very reason I need to focus on where my time should be spent.

Whatever happened to kindness? Why are we so very kind to perfect strangers (or friends), but not to those we claim to love? To those we have vowed to cherish above anyone else.  

What has become of reason?  

Runner? Only in my mind. I'm faithful, if nothing else. My feet stay because they wouldn't want to be anywhere else. I stay because I would never intentionally hurt those I love, regardless of the times of contention. I stay because I know my fears. I know where they come from. And I know my triggers. 

They will follow me, no matter where I find myself to be.

But so will God...

"But those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint." ~Isaiah 40:31

Missing my confidants, as always, here you will find me...in Mary's World.

#myjourneyamongtheunseen #lifeissues #theforgottenway 

What Can Happen in A Second...

I swear I just closed these blinds to shut out any remaining light from the day. I roll myself into bed, snuggle down and dream of whatever my sub-conscience has deemed worthy to latch onto.

But now...Now, I am opening those same blinds once again. The night went fast and another day has dawned.

In only a few hours, I'll be doing this rote action all over again. And I'll be thinking the same thing. "I just opened these blinds a short while ago."

Same thing when undoing, and making up, the bed. It feels as if I was just standing in this spot not that long ago. And yet the time has past and I grow ever older...

The hours are made up of minutes. The minutes made up of seconds.

Have you ever stood still and just watched the seconds tic off? Some might say, "Why would I ever waste time like that?" To me...the time isn't wasted when if puts ones life in perspective, where once it was all over the place. Floating through life as if those seconds had never existed.

If for no other reason, one should watch the seconds tic off at least once in their brief time here. A fresh appreciation for time granted you, will suddenly erupt inside a once sleeping brain.

Appreciation. Gratefulness. Awareness. 

Not so we could just cram more into our days, but that we could appreciate the moments of our days. Whether they be the quiet moments, or the busy moments. Appreciation causes our eyes to see things a bit clearer.

We become slower to judge others, even ourselves.

So much can happen in the breath of a second...

• Blinking...did you know your eyes blink 2-3 times it takes a second to tic off the clock?
• Heartbeats...did you know your heart pumps .07 liters of blood with each beat?
• Cellular activity...did you know that more than 100,000 chemical reactions take place inside your body every second?
• Lightening strikes...did you know that 100 lightening strikes hit the earth every second of any given day?
• Births & Deaths...did you know that within every second the clock tics, around 4 babies have been born and 2 deaths have occur, worldwide?

The list could go one, but what I really came here to say is that every second we draw oxygen into our lungs...matters.

Life, as we know it, can change considerably in the matter of seconds.

Some seconds throw us into confusion as to how we should respond to an unexpected situation. Good, or not so good. 

Maybe we should live a bit more intentionally.   

Just a random thought, musings, swirling around in my brain this morning...

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

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.

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.

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.

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.

Mom and Her Formica & ChromeTable and Other Snippets of Mom

I don't know when the beloved formica & chrome table was purchased. But it was around as long as I can remember. I don't have a picture of the table we had, but this is close enough. I just don't recall our chairs being blue...but they may have been. Some memories dull over time. I do know she fed10 kids, and at least one adult over the years. They just weren't all at the same table, at the same time. The first born was 21 years older than me and had already married and had a child of her own before I was born. Dad used to say I wasn't even "a twinkle in his eye" at the time. I do think there were at least 7 kids that ate from this table at the same time, because I remember when my brother Ken almost died from a sawmill accident (saw blade tried to eat him), and he was still in school. He was child number four. I was child number 10. I may have to amend this statement, once I hear from him. 😁😉

Mom and dad had moved a few times in the beginning of their marriage, so I'm thinking the table must have been purchased after their move to our farm on the northeast edge of Oklahoma that bordered Missouri, with possibly 4 kids in tow. 

She had allowed 11 of us to take up space in her body over a period of 21 years. One baby was tragically lost when Mom was thrown off the bed of a moving flat bed truck. I think it was her 3rd pregnancy. Again, I'm not sure. Most of us were only 2 to 2 1/2 years apart and there seems to have been a gap between the 3rd & 4th child. But, YIKES! Can you imagine being pregnant for all those years, with only short sabbaticals between each birth? A minister, and his wife on a mission to grow the world...

Mom rarely had time for herself, as one can imagine. Ten kids! It's no surprise that only the first few, six possibly, got to really know her. By the time I came along, most of her time had to be used to grow and harvest the food needed to feed her very large family. Once she pulled the carrots, gathered the green beans and snapped them, dug the potatoes, shucked the corn, canned all the veggies, gathered the eggs, prepared the chickens for consumption (she'd fed and raised), it was then time for cooking...which took many hours in the kitchen, working over a wood stove for a good portion of her life. Homemade bread, butter (homemade, as well), and all kinds of delicious fried meat and vegetables gave me my start in this world. When the meals had been prepared and served, she excused herself and retreated to a counter just a few steps beyond the cook stove, so she could eat while maintaining a watch over the needs of those gathered around the table. 

I wonder if she ever felt appreciated, cherished, loved?

Her duties didn't only consist of feeding her children, they had to be clothed, as well. I don't remember ever having a store bought piece of clothing. Mom sewed all our clothes. Mine were mostly made out of Moco Feed Sacks. Once the feed had been dumped into their bins inside the barn, she grabbed the bags up for laundering...on a scrub board, none the less! Wouldn't THAT be fun! A Wonder Woman, for sure!

I vaguely remember the day she was given a wringer washer. She was so excited as it was placed on the back porch. I could feel her anticipation of get clothes cleaned with so much less energy needed. She warned us of the dangers of getting our hands stuck in between the bars that squished the clothes as they were fed into it. She knew her kids and the excitement she felt poured over into them. It wasn't a stretch to know they would want to try their hand at running clothes through this amazing piece of machinery, and she preferred her kiddos with both hands instead of one good, the other mangled. She was always protecting us from what could hurt us, and intensely worried about the times she couldn't. She hated the girls having to work like men at the mill or in the woods. She would have kept us with her, teaching us "women" stuff, if she'd had her way. But, she didn't. We were needed elsewhere.  

After the clothes were laundered, Mom took them outside to hang on a clothing line to dry...even in the freezing temps of winter time. Mom was a very busy lady. Time constraints were a constant! It's no wonder she was such a nervous person. Always racing against time. Dad used to jokingly (I think) say, "Why pray, when you can worry." But, to be fair, I think Dad did his fair share of worrying, as well.

Maybe one day I'll share things from sawmill life...or the cow barn. There's more than a few to be had. I strongly disliked them both. However, teaching a baby calf to drink from a bucket was pretty amazing. I can still feel the warmth of their milk soaked tongues sucking on my fingers that had been dipped in the warm milk, as they used their heads to butt against the bucket held in my hand, as if it was the under side of their mother's udder. We all have some great memories, not just the not-so-great ones.

Mom had a special garden. Her own creation. I think it must have been her survival space. A place to catch her breath, to steady herself as she told the flowers of her deepest fears, of her hopes for the future, and just how beautiful they were. There were many places flowers bloomed in our yard, but this particular garden was hers, and she guarded it with threats of painful death (she didn't scare us) to anyone who chose to wander in and pick any of the blooms, or trampled through, not caring where their feet landed. This was her space. Her Paradise. Her place of restoration.

She had built a pergola and a gate, over the point of entry to her garden. Framed with a bench on either side, and laced with blue Morning Glories that, once trailing, she encouraged an over-and-through design that laid so elegantly over the top, cascading through the slats like a veil. It was beautiful to my young eyes and I loved hearing her talk to her babies...her creation, as I sat on the benches under those vivid blue flowers...yet never going beyond the gate. When mom spoke, we listened. Out of respect...not fear. Those times were few and far between. But I cherished them.

My mom was also a true artist who never got to use her artistic skills. She loved her flowers. Her mom's flowers. Grandma Edna (Doerrie) Fawks must have been her inspiration. She also had well tended gardens, and Mom drew likenesses of them on paper from the 1920's...thick and woody. Every part of each flower she had drawn out in great detail. So precise and developed with accuracy. With understanding the beauty of each one, she drew, she designed, she loved. All done before marriage and children. We do have a way of messing things up. *wink *wink

She had created two manuals during her school years, that she managed to keep over the years. She tucked them away so no one would find them. Good thinkin', Momma!!! 

Once she married and had all us yahoos, she did the same thing with store bought chocolate bars, which was a rare pleasure of hers. That, and the occasional bottle of pop, which she would share if we caught a glimpse of her sipping from one. We were allowed only a sip or two. It was hers. She earned it, and believed it to not be so good for her little ones. I'm glad she hid those things from us. Had we found them, she would not have had anything to keep her sanity. A part of who she was, changed after marriage and kids...to a degree. It does with us all, right? She was still Erna, the young happy girl from years gone by...but now, she was needed in a much more serious capacity. She had to let go of her dreams.

One of her design manuals was of an array of different flowers drawn with great love and what appeared (to me, at least) to be something the flowers would be proud to see, if they could see, just how beautifully she portrayed them. Notes were made in that manual revealing everything anyone would want to know about flowers. The other was of the human anatomy. Also very detailed and explained.

My first look at them was when I needed information for a school project and was talking with her about it. She pulled them out from I don't know where. I do remember being surprised and asked, "Did you draw these?!" I was in awe...

Mom never had time to sit and share her own thoughts with us. Until most of her children had moved on, creating a life away from their beginnings, did she have time to think about herself. Maybe she talked more with the older siblings, I just don't remember having "Mom time" when I was young. I was with Dad working at the sawmill, in the log woods, tending cattle, and all chores outside. There were a few times I got to help with the vegetable garden, especially when it needed harvested. It was a time I looked forward to...away from the sawmill, and working next to Mom in the veggie garden. Several of us helped because gardens don't wait. But I was still there with my Mom.

I rarely heard her complain, but when she did, it was usually because of some chore she didn't agree with that her kids were required to do. She just pushed through any difficulties she may have had, any struggles over caring for her family...carrying whatever weight needed carried. Picking up the pieces of broken hearts and understandings. Her family always came first. 

Mom never "lounged." That wasn't a thing in our home. "Idleness is the devils workshop," my Dad would say, and if he ever caught any of us idling away the hours (yeah...that wasn't a thing, either), he would find something for us to do. "No rest for the weary," was something he would say, as his mouth curved into a slight smile. And was that a mischievous twinkle I saw in his eye? 

Today, I'm really thankful for how I was raised. In all its "mistakes" I grew to be a good worker. Never considered hard work to be a dirty word. It was a gift given by the Father of all mankind, creating a sense of worth. Of being needed. Something of value the hands found to do.

Oh yeah! That table...

I'm not sure why (or when, for that matter), Mom began noticing faces in the formica table top. Looking back...remembering the times I found her tracing on the speckled canvas, causes me to wonder why she did that. Did she just all of a sudden notice there were facial designs in her table? Or was she bored at having time on her hands? Maybe it was because the family table took a good bit of her time when we were growing up, and it was there she naturally navigated to...it had become a habit, of sorts. It was there she pulled herself together once the family was mostly gone. And it was there she noticed the faces taking form...designs within the speckles that weaved themselves sporadically throughout. Maybe she was remembering our faces...hoping to have us all close by once again. Her hands ceased to have much to do.

The tracing didn't begin until after most of the kids were grown and gone, so gardening wasn't needed as much and cooking had shrunk to feeding only a few...not an army.  When my brother, two years my senior, left home, and I was the only one left, I began noticing it more. She actually enjoyed it and would call me over to see what she had found, asking if I could also see it. Sometimes I did, other times not-so-much. But she did. And that's what mattered.

Needing more to do with her once busy hands, she began putting puzzles together on the table. Yet, every once in awhile I'd see her tracing with her finger again. Was it enough to keep her mind from all those busy days of years gone by? Pretty sure she was wishing there was more to do than stand at a table. Or wash dishes. 

Okay. Speaking of washing dishes...a memory just popped up in my head that made me smile. Can't just throw away a perfectly good memory, right? And now that he's with Jesus, I can squeal on him. I know. One shouldn't talk about the dead. But he's not dead. Not really. He just isn't here to be embarrassed. And I think he'd actually get a kick out of this one being revealed. My brother, Rush (that guy in the picture, slightly to your left), was like any other man living in those days. His life span was short. Cancer took him, but that's another story for another time. During the years he lived out, a man would never be caught dead doing the work of a woman. Well, not in the 60's and 70's, anyway. It was a thing back then. We all had a "position" in life and lines never blurred like they do now.

Anyway...because most of us kids helped Dad with outside chores; known as the hard, dirty work (I know...🙄), a man would never be required to WASH DISHES! OH MY! OH NO!!! 😂 But Rush...when he started dating Linda Olds, insisted on clean nails. And there was only one way to get clean nails, and that was to wash the dishes that had the strong lye soap swirling around, cleaning out from under the dirtiest of nails. Gross, right??? But that's how his nails and hands came out pristine. That's how he rolled. 🤣🤣🤣 Okay. Enough about him. This is about Mom.

Actually, I think I'm done for today. This blog entry has gotten out of hand. True to form, I've allowed a lot of words to flow without being filtered for production. And that's how I roll...

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

Serious Me

It's been a journey...being me. My nature is one of seriousness, mostly. I see through the eyes of deciphering truth of any given situation, which makes me not the most fun person to be around. I've never been accused of being the life of any party.

"A conspiracy theory person" my husband claims me to be. He has encouraged me to write a book on it, saying it would be a best seller.  I think he was being sarcastic at the time. Or was he? 🤔

Our oldest daughter usually comes to see us on Sunday afternoons, with our "Little Bit", better known as Warner Annabelle, tagging along. We look forward to those days, knowing when they leave we will feel at least 10 years younger just because of the laughs during conversations. 

Our youngest daughter, and "Snookums", better known as Reagan Paige, joins us every other Sunday. Having all my girls in our home at the same time, gives me purpose, energy, and a full heart. It's the lightest my heart feels as the energy created builds in our small abode. I smile more on these days than I do all week long. 

Because, eventually, the serious nature finds its way out from behind the closed door it hides behind when our littles are present. 

Most of my life I have tried to be funny. It rarely happens. Probably because it's forced. BUT!!! I do have my moments though rare. One accidentally popped up this last Saturday, before the winter ice storm was about to hit our southern state.

Lindsey and Little Bit decided to drop by Saturday to test out a couple of Walkie-Talkies for emergency use should we need it. Always making sure those in her realm of living are taken care of, this was necessary for her. Peace of mind is important. She comes by it honestly, and since the ice storm was positioned to arrive late that evening, she wouldn't be able to come on Sunday....

Anyway, Annabelle got bored pretty quickly since the adults were "talking shop", and her cousin Reagan was at her dad's house, she retired to the living room couch with her iPad. After asking Grams for a blanket, she settled in. I love this kid! She already has the ability to assess a situation and decide a course of action that best serves her needs in the moment. #lifeskills

As the testing of the Walkie-Talkies ended, and Linds was preparing to leave, she told us she had offered their home to the neighbors on her street should they lose power, and need warmth, a shower, etc., since they had a generator that kicks in instantly should power go out. Much like the hospitals do, I would assume.

I made a simple observation about what a great human she is. So kind to others. She smiled and said, "Just working on my karma." To which I replied, "I'm a bit concerned about MY karma. It's not looking so good." She and DW got a kick out of that and didn't let the moment pass without a reaction. "Maybe you could borrow some of Dad's," she said with a huge smile. And, of course, Dennis jumped on the train before it left the tracks. "Yeah! I'll share mine with you. I have plenty!" Aren't they cute...🙄🤣

I think Erin (aka/Lindsey) got her wit from her Aunt Becky...they were always a team that navigated sarcasm well. 🤣🤣🤣

Bottom line? I know I'm loved by them. Serious, or not. Also, wouldn't it be a boring world if we all had the same nature? And...I kinda love being a serious person. Yet...I can be light-hearted when needed. I think...🤣

Tell me...what about you, does your family laugh at/with?

If you need a serious answer, to anything, here you will find me...in Mary's World. 

#myjourney #lifeissues #myworld #happyheart #mybeautifulfamily 

 

Celebrating the Inspiring Human(s) Of This World

There are days when it is easier to complain than it is to see the good in the world. It's easy to see the unrest, the confusion of mankind, the anger that builds up in those who feel lost and alone, especially if they listen day after day to the social media's narratives. And, trust me, most of it IS a narrative. The more "journalists" can add drama to their reporting, creating more views...which translate into you get to keep your job for another day.

It's equally easier to cave and just go ahead and say you're getting old. You know of what I speak. Reality is reality. Well...for some, reality is reality. Sad to say (here comes Debbie Downer), it appears brain-washing is at an all time high. But that's not what this blog is about. That is reserved (possibly when I'm feeling all washed up 😉), for another day. Where did this thought come from? 🤷‍♀️

However, it does seem as if I am reaching for my CBD achy, breaky, cream, more times than usual, these days. Mostly when the weather shifts and those cold and cloudy days (that I LOVE), are on the horizon heading straight my way. 👏🏼 👏🏼👏🏼 My back hurts, my head hurts, my wrists hurt, and NOW I've noticed my left hip has joined the ever growing crowd. But, I'm a trooper. I pretend I'm not a day older than 35, when I still had decent hormone and metabolism levels, and could work circles around most that lived in my world. So far, that pretense isn't working so well. My brain has a new commander-in-chief, known as "the rest of the story;" the body it used to command is now in charge.

Only Dennis gets to hear how much I ache, and "guess I'm going to down a couple of Tylenol and take to the bed...again"only because he lives in the same house as I do. That happened just last evening and by 7:30 PM I was sound asleep. At least that was the last time I noticed the time, and Dennis said I was asleep when he came in to use the privy. Also, when I woke at 1:30 AM, I noticed a couple of text messages a friend sent at 8:06 PM that didn't wake me. This very light sleeper was OUT! So sorry, friend. I was here, just not ALL here.

And, again...that is NOT what this blog is about! Good grief. I do get down the many rabbit trails. Dennis and I were talking (well, I was talking...D was listening...I think), just a couple of days ago how very complex my brain wiring is. It bores quickly with the subject at hand and jumps to something entirely off the subject, but has been inspired BY the subject. See what I mean? Many times I even forget what I'm talking about. Like now. It's why I don't like to be interrupted. If I lose my train of thought, well, you know. Go figure.

Soooo...if you are still reading, here's the real reason my fingers are busy brushing keystrokes this early morn. I ventured out, yesterday (no, this isn't it either...first the distracted thought). It's been at least 3 weeks, possibly 4, that I've gone to the grocery store. When we run out of something, DW just runs up the road (about a half mile away), and picks up what we need for the next couple of days. That has been a huge pivot for me. It was my job to "bring home the bacon"...and whatever else we needed to maintain a normal household. Routine has changed. Drastically changed...but he rarely complains. And then, it's usually through body language only, no verbal despair.

I could have just written a post on FB about how uplifting it was to encounter a young person that looked at peace, instead of indifference, where it says, "What's on your mind, Mary?" But, nope. I felt it necessary to document ever little thought zipping through my mind, probably because I went to bed way too early and woke way too early. And THAT takes a blog post. 

Here's what you've been waiting for. Hopefully. 

Anytime I go to a brick and mortar store, it is very rare to find an employee that not only is kind and thoughtful, but also has a very pleasant persona. One that seems confident in who they are and why they are there. One who recognizes they are not the only person walking this planet and there may be other needs outside their own that should they be willing to help, might give them more self-worth. A sense of being needed. Which we all need. Or just because they love giving of themselves.

I was looking for something I couldn't find when I came up to a young man gathering groceries, and such, for the most of humanity in our area (it would seem...huge cart). Those who just don't want to go inside to do their own shopping. I get it! That's where the germs are from sick people, gross kiddos (or adults), and none of them caring what you think. I don't like going in, either. But the need to see, and feel, especially the produce I want, is stronger than not wanting to go inside. 

Anyway...this young man stopped what he was doing, without a trace of annoyance. He was so accommodating, I just wanted to hug him! He not only looked it up for me on his little phone thingy, but he stopped what he was doing and TOOK ME THERE!!! It was on a shelf I probably could have reached, but he grabbed it for me and asked if it would work for what I needed. There were several other designs on the shelf, and not wanting to take anymore of his time, I just said, "I'll look these over and surely one will work. Thank you, so much! I do appreciate you." He smiled and said, "Okay. Thanks." Then went on his way to complete the orders he was pulling when I intruded upon him.

I don't think a minute had passed before I saw him coming my way with another style of the item I was looking for, that he had found on a shelf 3 isles away. He brought it my way, I am convinced, because he actually listened to what I had said. That being the comment of how big the other item was and I didn't have a lot of storage space. He had found one, half the size of the first, and thought it might work better for me. THIS is what I call customer service! A busy employee, taking the time for an in-person customer.

This young man gave me hope for the next generation who will be running this oft times mixed up world where right is wrong, and wrong is right. I rarely get anyone that is willing to look me in the eye when (and if) I get a response. They might take the time to point in the direction of an aisle 150 feet away and say, "It's over there." Okay. Great. That should cut my time by possibly 30 seconds, if the Gods smile on me.

And THAT is what my inspiration for today's blog was all about. You just got a bit more insight into my world. My thoughts. My ramblings. Scattered as they may be. Tis me...

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

P.S.

There's a possibility of SNOW, tomorrow!!! Whoop! 

STOP! DON'T STEP OVER THAT LINE!

Christmas has come and gone, for 2025. It was a great time with our little family! As it usually is. But, now it is time to shake ourselves and leave the old behind. At least the used up part of it. Memories last. As they should.

Today's post is a snap-shot of what it's been like since I spoke the word I didn't think I'd ever speak. "Retirement."I seriously thought I would have to be hauled away (while in the middle of doing someones hair), on an EMS gurney, stretcher, cot...whatever that thing is called they put dead bodies on. But, it didn't quite work out that way.

Now, some 7 months later...

I can feel myself waning; my strength not as it once was. I suppose that is natural, yet when I see women who never seem to tire, I want to know their secret. But if it's spending a couple of hours in a gym, I'm not interested. I know I won't bring myself that much discipline when it comes to lifting weights or running on a tread mill. To be fair, I don't see that many people these days. This retirement thing has stolen my "want to" and I fear I am becoming a bit lazy, a bit hermit-ty...occasionally.

Knowing this would happen at some point, I was hoping it wouldn't be this soon. My 79th birthday is about 6 months away, so maybe it's time. Something I have noticed, however, is that if I'm excited about something, my body, mind, and spirit seem to kick into a unified force that supports each other as the task(s) are tackled. They don't tire until the mission is accomplished. But...if disillusion creeps in on any front...well...I might as well stop whatever it is I'm doing because the rest of the day doesn't go so well. Then all I want to do is hide away with no interference, propped up on my bed watching anything on TV that will make me laugh. 

The questions come fast and furious, now: Am I turning into a cranky old woman? A snippy, out-of-touch individual? A spreader of dark clouds? Will my children's children want to come see me ever again? Or will it be a constant, "Do we HAVE to go see Grams?" And lastly, but certainly not least, complaining is getting so much easier to do. UGH!!! Nobody likes being around a complainer...not even me.

I knew taking an early retirement (yes, 78 years old is early for me) would prove to be possibly the biggest challenge I would face in my lifetime. And 7 months into it, I've found that to be very true. Adjusting has been interesting. Days ticking off with no makeup on my face (that's kinda nice, actually), hair never coifed (just brushed), and my poor brain allowed to become inactive...mostly, while sitting in front of a monitor screen. Oh, it's searched for information to pick apart. It's searched for why I should believe something to be true, or not true. And...it's learning new things about gardening. Or maybe it's just refreshing itself, much like when you tap that circling arrow at the top of this page, to do a refresh. But, mostly it searches for challenges within its grasp to overcome, a bit more quickly than adjusting to retirement has been. 

We'll get there. By hook or by crook. What does that even mean? Guess I could play along and do a deep dive...I do have the time. 😑 Maybe I should start the mundane action of putting away allllllll the Christmas decorations that took me a full week to get up. Beautiful as they may be, the main event they ushered in is now in our rear-view mirror and it won't return until next December.

Focus, Mary. Focus! Time for a New Year's Resolution. *wink *wink. But, where to start? We must know where we are, to get to where we want to be. So....

Here's what we know: 

1) Doing the same thing over and over, yet expecting different results, is the definition of insanity. Right? 

2) Not willing to change the circumstances causing the boredom, is accepting a defeated spirit. Not a pretty sight. 

3) If we continue on this path, it will destroy us, causing death of mind, body, and spirit. Not necessarily death, death. But certainly a decaying process must take place. If we don't use it...we lose it. Agreed?

Things I know I MUST do: 

1) Get back on track with taking my daily walks. Those ALWAYS refresh me. 

2) Begin my daily exercises...again. These really do help me twist (and sometimes shout), bringing my body into subjection as it limbers up. Rigor mortis is not the way to go. Believe me...

3) ALWAYS start my day with God...reading from the Word, studying the Word, sitting quietly, allowing the Word to penetrate my heart. Therein is guidance. I know this to be true. 

4) Fight the urge to do nothing. Yes, rest when needed. Just don't get in the habit of doing nothing all day long!

So....

My To Do List for the first half of 2026. For those who care, but mostly for me...

1) Begin the task of decluttering. I promised myself I would do this the moment I retired. Didn't happen. My plan is to go room by room, hopefully with little to no, distraction. One at a time. Focus will be needed, since I usually start in one room and find myself in another, moving things around to aid what I began.

2) DISCIPLINE! As long as my body allows, MOVE IT! Daily walks. Daily exercise. Daily meals (as healthy as possible). Oh man! This is going to take a lot of planning!

3) Meal planning for the week. Possibly the month. Having only two to cook for, this shouldn't be hard. But it always has been for me. 

4) Make solid decisions on what to do with left-over salon related items. That era has been completed. 

5) Always look for the good in things. Even when life throws the sour stuff my way. I know I'll fail at this on occasion, but I don't give up easily. Unless it has to do with that awful word "retirement".

I think 5 is enough. The number of grace. I'm gonna need it.

As you can see, God's still working on me, here...in Mary's World.