Last post for this year. Last fast food for the year. Last football game for the year. Good thing don't always last. But sometimes they do last. Sometimes things last longer than you expect. Good, bad, mundane. The good things? Are still good. The bad things? Some are still bad, and some have turned really good.
Conversations have produced great things. Will those things last? I hope so. I pray they last and flourish more than I can imagine. Only God knows how He will use those conversations. Talking I like. Waiting? Not so much. Although, waiting two years wasn't that bad looking back. In the midst of waiting, it's so so awful. But looking back from the other side of the wait, it looks better than it probably was.
The last thing? Pray. Pray. Pray.
God help me. A sinner. A lazy sinner. Leave my weak moments in the past and give me the strength to move beyond. Life I pray for my eyes to fixed upon the Ever.Last.ing. The First and the Last. Praise The Lord O my soul. Give me songs to teach my children. Bless them in despite my shortfalls. Bless my husband even in my weakness of emotion. Praise The Lord for His Providence and Provision.
31.12.12
13.12.12
Gone
She died. She passed away. She's gone. She is no longer with us. No matter the word used to describe it, the fact remains that she died four days shy of her 101st birthday. I sang happy birthday to a frail still small shadow if a woman I knew.
She made things. She spent the time to teach others to make things. I was taught many many times how to crochet, yet I could never catch the correct tension. I was about 13 years old when I stayed a week with my grandma. She made breakfast for me every morning. We sat quietly in recliners doing our crafts. She was crocheting and I was making friendship bracelets. I felt so empowered by her. She was old, but still full of life and energy and knowledge. She had lived through the wars, and the depression, and five children. One of which is a stubborn stubborn man I call dad. She had knowledge of things I had no concept. She was a farm, country, small town woman. I was an awkward city raised teen. Not sure of who I was really. I now know of the shell of a girl I had made into the me they all knew. She taught me to slow down, and relax. That the phone wasn't the ultimate idol. Relax may not be the right word here. She was calm about the things she did. Her actions were deliberate, straight forward and consistent. She was always doing something. Whether it was crocheting or cooking or teaching or mending or caring, always something.
She told me of the time the school called to ask her to substitute teach a class. She only had an eighth grade education, but the school asked her and she accepted. She substituted for a woman off for maternity leave. She stayed for the rest of the year.
Life was different with her. I felt like I could breath, I could be my awkward little self and she loved me for it. I wasn't weird for being creative. I wasn't being lazy because I was working on a craft project. I was useful and praised for the things I did.
I wish she would have come to my wedding. I missed her presence. I miss her presence even now. She was embarrassed by her age spots. I said she had earned each one rightfully.
She had been deteriorating for four years now, but it does actually grieve me that she is no longer on the earth. Why should this affect me? I don't know. God is sovereign over all of this. My actions should reflect His goodness and mercy, but instead I reflect a poor depressed lost soul. Lost in the forest and jungles of my own mind and emotions. God have mercy on me, I Am A Sinner.
Gone. She is gone. But He lives, ten thousand years and ForeverMore!
She made things. She spent the time to teach others to make things. I was taught many many times how to crochet, yet I could never catch the correct tension. I was about 13 years old when I stayed a week with my grandma. She made breakfast for me every morning. We sat quietly in recliners doing our crafts. She was crocheting and I was making friendship bracelets. I felt so empowered by her. She was old, but still full of life and energy and knowledge. She had lived through the wars, and the depression, and five children. One of which is a stubborn stubborn man I call dad. She had knowledge of things I had no concept. She was a farm, country, small town woman. I was an awkward city raised teen. Not sure of who I was really. I now know of the shell of a girl I had made into the me they all knew. She taught me to slow down, and relax. That the phone wasn't the ultimate idol. Relax may not be the right word here. She was calm about the things she did. Her actions were deliberate, straight forward and consistent. She was always doing something. Whether it was crocheting or cooking or teaching or mending or caring, always something.
She told me of the time the school called to ask her to substitute teach a class. She only had an eighth grade education, but the school asked her and she accepted. She substituted for a woman off for maternity leave. She stayed for the rest of the year.
Life was different with her. I felt like I could breath, I could be my awkward little self and she loved me for it. I wasn't weird for being creative. I wasn't being lazy because I was working on a craft project. I was useful and praised for the things I did.
I wish she would have come to my wedding. I missed her presence. I miss her presence even now. She was embarrassed by her age spots. I said she had earned each one rightfully.
She had been deteriorating for four years now, but it does actually grieve me that she is no longer on the earth. Why should this affect me? I don't know. God is sovereign over all of this. My actions should reflect His goodness and mercy, but instead I reflect a poor depressed lost soul. Lost in the forest and jungles of my own mind and emotions. God have mercy on me, I Am A Sinner.
Gone. She is gone. But He lives, ten thousand years and ForeverMore!
7.12.12
Butterfly
Here is my first attempt at a butterfly pillow. I'm hoping this will be a well loved item. I used old stuffing from an unused pillow. It only took a few hours to make. Not too bad for not having a pattern. The hardest part was getting the buttons in the correct placements.
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