When World's Collide

  

We were coming upon our 50th wedding anniversary. My husband had always loved giving me gifts he thought fitting for me, that he knew I would love because he loved them. He's always had an eye for excellence and loved showing me how much he loved me through those gifts that spoke louder than he had words for. Acts of kindness is his love language, some would say. He is, indeed, a people magnet. Possibly because of the kindness he shows to all who step into his world.

The brutal truth here is that most of my adult life I have felt unworthy of love. Not because I am a bad person. Not because I am a taker, yet never give. And not because I haven't loved others. But just because I haven't allowed myself to see as my Heavenly Father sees. To Him, I am perfect, in spite of my metaphorically crooked legs that cause me to stumble. In spite of my sometimes fearful heart. In spite of always looking for the worst case scenario. Always loving the times I allow the sun to shine on my face and lift me up from the dust of life. It's not that I focus on all the wrongs done to me during my short life. It's not that I keep myself chained to the past (or do I?). I do understand that I no longer am bound by it. It's only because I allow myself to be "triggered" by certain actions and statements, that bring the once hidden files rushing to the frontal lobe of my brain, where personality, social behavior, and emotional regulation take place. That's also when I need sugar. Lots of sugar. And we all know what sugar does to us. Right? It jacks us up before slamming us down, where we are virtually unable to cooperate with anything, or anyone.

There will be many who read this that won't understand what my heart is focused on this early A.M., but for some....well, they will know exactly what I am saying. Instantly...

The gift presented to me for so many years of being a faithful wife and mother, changed so many things. First of all, it reminded me of who I have always been. Not of what I had walked through that challenged who I have always been. Nor of who I was meant to be. One simple, yet profound gift. As I think about it today, I think of the Prodigal Son who, upon returning home, his father called for a ring to be placed on his finger. (There is so much more to this story that can be found in Luke 15:11-32). If one would take time to read this short passage, well...I'll just say this: This portion of Scripture has been known to melt the coldest of hearts.

The gift that was placed on my finger at the beginning of this month ( a couple of weeks before our anniversary), reminded me of who I am. And now, outward signs are developing that I had given up on ever happening. Like most, I had told myself this was my life (it is a good life) and that I should forget the desire of my heart of it being anything else. Oh, I'm still me. I'll always and forever, be me. Maybe a refined me??? We'll see where this takes us. If it indeed does take us somewhere other than where I've been my entire life.

Synopsis: God is always working on our behalf, and when we least expect it, will reveal his Love for us in a deeper, more meaningful way than we could ever imagine. And yes. He uses the mundane to reveal the extraordinary.

My hope for you this Christmas season, is that you will see. That you will actually feel the love that our Creator, our Heavenly Father, has for you. That you can get glimpses of how his heart feeds yours. That He is always waiting for us to look His way. To ask of Him. To love Him simply because He loves us. It is we who need changing. Not him.

May the joy of this season be yours, forever and always. 

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

    

And Then She Stopped

It's been 3 weeks now, maybe 4, since I've seen her. The light glows from her window in the wee hours before sunup. Most times the light flickers on way too early. I know because I, too, am up way too early. One should be sleeping, should be recharging, should be renewing the body at 2, 3, and 4 AM. But not her. I'm guessing the years have begun their sapping time, forcing her to retire to the bedroom before she really wants to, and in like manner, rising before she wants to.

I know this time of year can take its tole, because, as her mother once said, "There's simply not enough hours in the day." She was another hard worker! Turns out I met her many years ago (77 years and 6 months ago, to be exact). I just didn't realize our walking girl would turn out to be her off-spring. Stands to reason. I get it now. Like mother, like daughter. Continually busy, asking only for strength to get through what hours the day held. Maybe that is why she has put her health on hold. Maybe that is why she hasn't taken the time for herself, and walked the neighborhood before sunrise. Maybe she is busy gathering, sorting, organizing, preparing, for years end and the beginning of a new one, since as a solo business owner, she has to keep everything moving along. And by the onslaught of packages she's mailing out, I'm also guessing she is swamped with on-line orders in the midst of all the other busy work she must do in such a short time frame. But I have come to know her well. She'll get it done. Of this I am confident.

And then the walking will begin again. But for now, she'll be a busy girl, allowing her head to lower only when she says it can. Allowing her body to still, and regain the strength it has used up. Maybe it would help if she would begin her walks again. Today...

Thinking I just might see her on a walk-about this morning, here you will find me...in Mary's World. 

Winter's Light

Inspiration hits at different times, places, and moments. The most recent (for me) was during the Thanksgiving celebration at our first-born's house only a couple of days ago. Lindsey is a creative artist in the truest sense of the word. From the time she was a mere child, she could "see" pictures in her head that took on form so clear she could articulate needed resources to bring them to life. And, for the most part, she did just that! It didn't matter the time of year, spring, summer, fall, or winter...every 3 or so months, her room evolved from what it had been to yet another vision of hers. Always intrigued with light, she learned early on how to capture it in anything she put her hands to. She inspires me more than she realizes...

A new edition of Magnolia Journal found its way to our mailbox this week. Joanne Gains is another one that inspires me. Listen to what she had to say about seeing light. "Winter doesn't withhold light. Even though the days grow darker. Even though the ground lays bare as nature's way of reminding us to still and steady ourselves. This season still shines with strands that twinkle, candles that brighten corners and tables, rays that bounce off snow and ice. In its glow, winter reflects the beauty all around and, in doing so,  prompts us to see where light is shining between the cracks."

She goes on to say, "It's as if in winter's hustle and rest, in its quiet and merriment, we can see...each other, our stories, our days...with a kind of balanced clarity."

Like Joanna, I enjoy looking back to see what the past has to teach me. At the end of each year I always take stock of what's changed. Have I changed??? We must acknowledge where we've been before we can look to the future. Right? I understand that some of us have had painful pasts. We should never dwell too long in that time frame. We made it through, right? So now, we must examine what that taught us as we notice how the light shown through the cracks during that time. Always look for the light. It will guide our steps, literally and figuratively. 

I have often called myself an extroverted introvert. Simply meaning I love being around others for a time. But I truly need my solitude. Don't we all? Something I've come to notice, however, is that when I let others in, into my world of reflection, it becomes a fulfilling time of community. Friendship, even...

We find success, and failure; the fun, the heartbreak; times of great meaning, and times life was so lacking of anything interesting. And in it all, we find each other! We let the light in...

Hoping your Thanksgiving Day was filled with all you had hoped for, and the things you wished weren't real showed a twinkling of light through the cracks. When we allow the light in, we allow our eyes to see where we've been and where we go next. We may even rediscover some old dreams we abandoned long ago. And as Joanna Gaines says, "What if we become more than we thought we were?"

Allowing darkness to become light, here you will find me...in Mary's World.

A Letter to My Dennis

Dear Husband:

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

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

Nooooo...

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

There's nothing lucky about our marriage.

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

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

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

We sacrificed.

We forgave.

We rebuilt trust that was broken.

We apologized.

We kept trying.

We got help when we felt stuck

    (Thanks, Denny & Becky...😉)

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

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

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

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

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

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

No, there was nothing lucky about our marriage.

We worked.

We worked hard for one another.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your One and Only,

MJ

P.S.

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

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

Managing Brain Spasms

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

Footsteps That Don't Exist

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Battlefield of the Mind

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

P.S.

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