tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33918752521975693912024-03-13T22:13:12.848-05:00Quirks and GlitchesRandom crossings of my mind....Marytoohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08234537905380897920noreply@blogger.comBlogger246125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3391875252197569391.post-44145043147877480932020-07-11T18:39:00.000-05:002020-07-13T11:05:10.248-05:00A Life Unfinished<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">"Lester's dead."</span><br />
<br />
Two weeks later, those unbelievable words haunt me still. Two weeks later, I waffle between denial/disbelief and weeping. At the most random times, a crashing wave of profound sorrow overtakes me, and here we go again.<br />
<br />
I had left Micah's house only minutes earlier when my phone rang. "Are you driving?" he asked. I was, and he asked me to pull over. I was just getting on the ramp for the freeway, so it wasn't possible, but "I can listen" I told him. He was adamant that I pull over and call him back. "That sounds ominous," I commented. His reply: a terse "Yeah."<br />
<br />
As I drove to the next exit, the thought came into my head that he was going to tell me something bad about Sally. I thought he might say something had happened to William, or Daniel, or even Sally. But Lester? Never.<br />
<br />
Lester was Chuck Norris. Unconquerable. Invulnerable. Invincible. Indestructible. It is fitting, I suppose, that it took something as
big as the ocean, dishing out its worst, to get the best of him.<br />
<br />
Memories of Lester are legend, but if there is one thing that stands out, head and shoulders above the rest, is that Lester was the go-to, undisputed, no-contest, hands-down, champion Man of All Work. The Mother of All Handymen, so to speak. If Lester couldn't do it, it couldn't be done. If Lester couldn't fix it, it couldn't be fixed. Need a porch built? A tractor fixed? A shed painted? How about a ceiling lowered? Need a fan installed? Someone to drive the moving van? What about a simple ride to or from the airport? Or a house built? Just dial 1-800-LESTER, and he would be there free of charge.<br />
<br />
It's a hard loss for our family. We already miss him, and we are going to miss him for a long time to come. I miss his ready smile, his unfailing, uncommon common sense, his wry sense of humor, his eager willingness to lend a hand. It's hard to imagine he is never again going to show up on my doorstep for a
chat and a glass of tea, or maybe a delivery from Sally, because "I had a call in Cove today."<br />
<br />
Only the day before I had read in "Jesus Calling" that we
draw near to God by thankfulness, and I began thinking about all the
things I could be thankful for: I had spent a day with him and Sally less than a week before his accident; Paul
was with them and had been able to save himself, and Daniel; Lester's last act to Sally was a small act of thoughtfulness; his last moments were spent having a good time with people he loved. I was thankful he did not have a long, drawn-out suffering, that his body was found, and found quickly. He got to see Daniel graduate, and he got to be a grandfather. Reasons to be thankful are many, but overshadowing them all is simply that we had him.<br />
<br />
That, all by itself, is enough.Marytoohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08234537905380897920noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3391875252197569391.post-85476887329795022832018-10-03T02:00:00.000-05:002018-10-03T02:00:04.898-05:00A Book That Changed My Life<br />
I am an avid reader. Books are on my list of Top Ten Things I Have To Have. They may even be on my list of Top One Things I Have To Have. Close, in any event. <br />
<br />
Fiction, non-fiction, biography, sci-fi, children's, history, religion, classics, I read them all. Well, except horror. I don't like horror. Some books are just bubble gum for my brain; some are seriously thought-provoking; some are dry and informational; but the only One that has fundamentally changed my life is the Bible. There is much to be learned from books, even some of the more unlikely ones, but every life lesson I have learned from any other book I have found as well in the Bible.<br />
<br />
I have always been a seeker, something my mom apparently recognized, because she bought me my own Bible when I was around the age of five or six. This was long before the days of special kids' Bibles in 14 different versions, and what I got was good ole' hardcore King James in a faux leather white cover with print so fine I almost had to have a microscope to read it. But I was not deterred. The day she gave it to me I sat myself right down on the kitchen floor and started in Genesis 1:1. When bedtime rolled around I was almost done with the first chapter, so I was allowed to stay where I was until I finished.<br />
<br />
That's how my Bible reading began. I wish I could say I read it faithfully every day. I could say that, I guess, but it might not quite be truthful, which kinda goes against the whole concept. But I do get it in more days than not, so there is that.<br />
<br />
How my Bible reading ends...I haven't come that far. So far, so good.Marytoohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08234537905380897920noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3391875252197569391.post-3827749613856355372018-10-02T03:00:00.000-05:002018-10-02T16:36:45.056-05:00A Friendship I Wish I Had<br />
I once had the Friendship I Wish I Had. She was the friend who loved wholeheartedly and absolutely unconditionally.<br />
<br />
It was a pretty unlikely friendship. She was in her 50's; I was in my 30's. Her life was all put together; mine was a big, fat mess. She was all empty-nested; I had a house full of kids. She was so much fun; I was a stick in the mud. She was young in her heart, younger than I was; I was so swamped in my dailiness, it was all I could do to get by. I'm not sure we had anything in common, except that we both loved to laugh, and we laughed at the same things. That was enough all by itself. My sense of humor has always been rather skewed, and she got it in a way hardly anyone else ever did or has since.<br />
<br />
Once she brought my newborn baby boy a gift of a pink outfit. Not what one usually brings to a boy, but, as she explained, it was too cute to pass up, and pleeeeeze, would I allow her to give it to him? We both had a good laugh about that, and I laugh about it still.<br />
<br />
Every so often I and a couple of my kidlets would collect a batch of the local freebie newspaper and take them up to her house where we would sit around her table and pick out the typos and other errors and laugh til we cried. Just thinking about it cracks me up all over again. <br />
<br />
My life was rife with problems; her life was perfect. Ok, maybe not. Looking back now from an age beyond where she was then, I suspect maybe she did have, or at least had had, a problem or two. But she had learned how to cope, and she kindly and generously shared her wisdom and her self with me.<br />
<br />
I don't remember its exact Beginning. But I perfectly remember its sad Ending.<br />
<br />
R.I.P. my friend.Marytoohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08234537905380897920noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3391875252197569391.post-73501078436782624322018-10-01T06:00:00.000-05:002018-10-02T16:39:08.841-05:001st Day Of Endings/Beginnings...Letter To My Younger Self<br />
<br />
Dear Younger Me,<br />
<br />
You are born. The biggest Beginning of them all. You think being a baby will be boring, since you can't do a thing other than sit around. You are wrong. Being a baby is exciting! Every day is is full of discoveries and new thrills.<br />
<br />
The firsts come quickly: your first time to roll over, your first tooth, your first time to sit up alone, your first step, your first boo-boo, all Endings of your total dependence and Beginnings of your eventual self-sufficiency.<br />
<br />
The stakes get bigger. School Begins, school Ends, work Begins, and just like that, Z-I-P! The Ending of your childhood and the Beginning of Personal Responsibility. Aaahhhh! Now you can really start living. PSYYYCH!<br />
<br />
There are many Endings and Beginnings along the way, all generally involving a certain amount of the bittersweet. Sometimes things don't exactly suit you, and you can't wait to see them in your rearview mirrow. When that happens, you are ecstatic!<br />
<br />
Then again...sometimes you like things the way they are, and you wish they would never change. But you can be assured they will, sooner or later, one way or another, because to hold the note is to ruin the song. When that happens well-meaning comforters tell you when God closes one door, He opens another one, and this is often true.<br />
<br />
At this point however, my feeling runs to the sense that sometimes when a door is closing, it's just a door slamming in your face. Because from this End of things, I can see that in the Beginning, life is full of possibilities, but when all is said and done, in the Ending, it is just full of improbabilities.<br />
<br />
Love,<br />
Older Me<br />
<br />
2nd Day: <a href="https://quirksandglitches.blogspot.com/2018/10/a-friendship-i-wish-i-had.html" target="_blank">A Friendship I Wish I Had</a><br />
<br />
3rd Day: <a href="https://quirksandglitches.blogspot.com/2018/10/a-book-that-changed-my-life.html" target="_blank">A Book That Changed My Life</a><br />
<br />Marytoohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08234537905380897920noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3391875252197569391.post-16114163201094159822015-09-17T22:07:00.000-05:002015-09-18T14:44:57.857-05:00The Dangers of DIY<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
Wanna save a little money? Do.It.Yourself!<br />
<br />
Sometimes that works. Sometimes it doesn't. A case in point:<br />
<br />
Answering the ever-annoying RINNNG!!!! of the telephone yesterday I was greeted by a sing-songy Edith-Bunker-like female giggle ~ giggling which alllmost masked the roar of the heavy male bellow in the background. Piecing her little bits and snippets together with his occasional <span style="font-size: large;"><b>"TELL THEM.............."</b></span> interspersed among the general<span style="font-size: large;"><b> "#$*%!*@%#@**^+#$^ "</b></span> I managed to discern what had happened.<br />
<br />
It seems that this household had been having trouble getting their laundry dry, so, as anyone would reasonably expect, the handy husband of the house decided to D.I.Y. Off he went to Lowe's to buy the latest "AS-SEEN-ON-TV" gadget, the one that cleans out your drier vent, putting an end to laundry day woes.<br />
<br />
As soon as he got home, he got right to work. First step: pull drier away from wall. So far so good. Carefully following the directions, he ran the wire brush through the wall and up the drier vent. Noooo problem. But right after that, things started to go south. Still following the directions, he tried to pull the brush back out, but Uh-Oh. It wasn't coming back out. It just wasn't.<br />
<br />
One can spend only so much time on something that doesn't work and clearly isn't going to. So, as any handyman would do, he grabbed his fishing pole and stuck it into the black hole in hot pursuit of the wayward brush. You can probably guess what came next. The fishing pole lost sight of its task, allowing itself to become distracted by the brush, and the next thing you know, they are in solidarity. Two comrades, united in purpose, out on strike.<br />
<br />
And that's when Mr. DIY conceded defeat and called for help. Or more accurately, hid his own face and had his wife call for help while he lurked in the background barking out instructions.<br />
<br />
As things turned out, there was no budging that pair. They are there to stay.<br />
<br />
So Mr. DIY's next project: Reroute the drier vent. This is a simple process of another trip to Lowe's for a mile or two of drier vent ducting, and some circular saw blades; then cutting a hole in the wall, another one in the ceiling, and another in the attic; finally cramming the ducting up between the studs in the wall and out the roof, capping the hole and sealing around the vent to keep the water out when it rains.<br />
<br />
A quick calculation revealed that the $85 he saved on the cleaner covered a good part of the supplies from Lowe's, and didn't touch the cost of the rerouter. That bill hasn't come in yet. But it will, because Mrs. DIY, a little (or a lot) poorer and a little wiser is, at this point, a little gun shy. Sure, she knows her hubby is handy, but she doesn't want him touching this one.<br />
<br />
Takeaway: The next time you get an urge to save some $, well....make sure you can afford to.<br />
<br />Marytoohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08234537905380897920noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3391875252197569391.post-49864986845133915652014-02-21T11:00:00.000-06:002014-02-25T21:22:25.288-06:00HELLOOOOO......???<br />
<br />
RINNNNG!!!!<br />
<br />
Me: This is Mary, how can I help you?<br />
<br />
Caller: I need to schedule a chimney sweep.<br />
<br />
Me: I can do that for you. Where are you located?<br />
<br />
Caller: In Harrisonville. South of Belton.<br />
<br />
Me ????: Um, I have never heard of that. Could you be more specific? Which direction? Towards Morgan's Point?<br />
<br />
Caller ?????: Ummm......No, south.<br />
<br />
Me: I'm sorry, I'm not familiar with Harrisonburg.<br />
<br />
Caller: NO! Harrisonville.<br />
<br />
Me: Oh, sorry, I'm not familiar with Harrisonville.<br />
<br />
Puzzled silence....<br />
<br />
Sounds like we'd come to an impasse. I really did not know what to say next. So I prompted her:<br />
<br />
Me: We cover a wide area. Waco, Temple, Gatesville, Killeen, Copperas Cove, Harker Heights, Lampasas, but I don't know Harrisonville. Are you maybe over towards Little River, Academy, Holland?<br />
<br />
Caller: Well, we are about 30 minutes from Kansas City. Do you know where Kansas City is?<br />
<br />
Me: Uh.....Kansas? Missouri?<br />
<br />
Caller (light beginning to dawn): It sounds like you are too far away.<br />
<br />
Me: Yeah, like in Texas.<br />
<br />
Caller: Well, I googled "chimney sweeps near Belton" and you were the first one that came up. OOOOHH.... I guess I should have googled "chimney sweeps near Belton, Missouri."<br />
<br />
Me: Yeah, that would be good.<br />
<br />
Caller: So all these other ones that are listed, are they in Texas, too? Temple, Round Rock, Georgetown?<br />
<br />
Me: Yes, ma'am, all around here.<br />
<br />
Caller: Well, never mind.<br />
<br />
<br />Marytoohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08234537905380897920noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3391875252197569391.post-12039193171629641792014-02-21T08:47:00.002-06:002015-09-17T20:39:17.842-05:00Five-Minute Friday...SMALL"For who has despised the day of small things?" Zechariah 4:10 <a href="http://lisajobaker.com/five-minute-friday/" title="Five Minute Friday"><img alt="Five Minute Friday" src="http://lisajobaker.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/06/5minutefriday.jpg" style="border: medium none;" title="Five Minute Friday" /></a><br />
<br />
Smallness tends to get a bad rap. We want <i>bigger</i>. Bigger is <i>better</i>. So says the common wisdom. So we are conditioned to think.<br />
<br />
But I'm not so sure about that. When I think about the things that make my life happy....a visit with a neighbor, a phone call from a kid, a card in the mail, sheets smelling of fresh air and sunshine, a baby laughing, hot water and soap and towels for a shower any time I want, a rainstorm, fresh peas from the garden, a good book, a smile and a hug, a pot of orange tea, an opportunity to help, a free cup of *senior* coffee from McDonald's, the sound of the wind chimes in the breeze, a Bible study with my friends, a funny joke, a text from the 1LT...there aren't that many big things on the list.<br />
<br />
The small things, it would seem, <i>are</i> the big things.Marytoohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08234537905380897920noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3391875252197569391.post-91300255312175102922014-02-14T20:22:00.001-06:002014-02-14T20:22:58.615-06:00Five-Minute Friday...GARDEN<a href="http://lisajobaker.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/06/5minutefriday.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Five Minute Friday" border="0" src="http://lisajobaker.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/06/5minutefriday.jpg" style="border: medium none;" title="Five Minute Friday" /></a><br />
It's GARDEN time! Garden conjures up alllll sorts of possibilities. All of them good. Even the tired aching back after you spend the day pulling weeds out there. Because there's nothing like a good, honest tired.<br />
<br />
I am allll about fresh food. What a shame that so many children are growing up today thingking food comes from HEB. They do not even know that it comes out of the ground.<br />
<br />
We live in a part of the country where gardening is pretty ongoing. Even in the dead of our version of winter we have hardy, hearty greens growing out there. Collard greens and chard and kale, which has been enjoying a new status as the darling of healthy smoothies and snacks in the form of kale chips. They are just growing away out there, with no input at all from us. <br />
<br />
January is pea-planting time around here. Sweet little peas, my very favorite! They never make it to the table in our house. We go out there and eat them right off the vine, and if you're not careful, someone will beat you to it.<br />
<br />
My favorite thing about the garden is how it connects us with ourselves. I am firmly convicted that God put Adam in the garden for a reason. It wasn't a random selection. God could have placed Adam in a city or any other place, but He chose the garden, the place where we connect with the creation and with the Creator.<br />
<span class="st"> </span><br />
<span class="st">The kiss of the sun for pardon. The song of the birds for mirth<wbr></wbr>. One is nearer God's heart in the garden. Than anywhere else on earth. ~ </span><b>Dorothy Frances Gurney</b><br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;">
</div>
Marytoohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08234537905380897920noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3391875252197569391.post-26099824043622510172014-02-10T19:49:00.000-06:002015-09-17T20:39:37.575-05:00Have It Your WayI only go there occasionally, but when I eat at Burger King, "My Way" is a Whopper Jr. with no tomatoes, extra onions, and extra pickles. That's what I ordered when I went through the drive-through today.<br />
<br />
Right before the disembodied "Pull up to the window," I caught a glimpse of the screen with my order on it, including "extra onions $.10." I did an incredulous double-take, but by the time I looked back, my order had been replaced with a picture of a milkshake, so I pulled up to the window where a friendly hand was waiting to take my money.<br />
<br />
"Did I see that there is a charge for extra onions?" I asked.<br />
<br />
My money-taker disappeared into the window. A few seconds later she was back with a giggly "Yes, there sure is."<br />
<br />
"Then why," I inquired, "is there not a discount for 'no tomatoes'?"<br />
<br />
Of course there was no answer for that. No attempt to find out. No offer to ask the manager. Just a shrug and more giggles.<br />
<br />
What to do? I have the moral ground! There is a principle at stake here!<br />
<br />
But how bah-humbug is it to make a federal case out of 10 cents? It is<i></i>, after all, only 10 cents, and ten cents today is roughly equivalent to.... nothing. To be honest, had I not happened to see that little notice on the screen, I would have happily forked over the money and been none the wiser.<br />
<br />
So I paid my extra ten cents and took my little Whopper home where I savored every last bite of that extra onion.<br />
<br />
Burger King is world-famous for "Have it your way," and so you can. But you better be prepared to pay. Marytoohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08234537905380897920noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3391875252197569391.post-12674802938898564932013-05-17T07:07:00.000-05:002013-05-17T07:07:01.864-05:00Five-Minute Friday...SONGThere's nothing like a song to conjure up a happy memory. Mothers dig out old songs to sing to babies, and lovers have "our song." And how about a school song to resurrect the past.<br />
<br />
Unlike the eye, which is always looking for something new and exciting and different, the ear likes to hear the same thing over and over and over. It is always on the alert for a soothing oldie. Song is comfort food for the spirit. <br />
<br />
<a href="http://lisajobaker.com/five-minute-friday/" nbsp="" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" title="Five Minute Friday"><img alt="Five Minute Friday" src="http://lisajobaker.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/06/5minutefriday.jpg" style="border: medium none;" title="Five Minute Friday" /></a><br />
As a mom, one of my favorite memories of raising kids is Sunday-night singing. We used to have singing friends and every Sunday night we would get together at someone's house to sing. We sang old songs and we learned new songs, which are now some of the old favorites we love. I miss Sunday night singing.<br />
<br />
Is there anyone who never got a song stuck in their head? I can never figure out why, but sometimes a song takes up residence in my head and sticks around for DAYS. I'm always a little afraid to think too much about that, lest I might summon a recent one back to haunt me. Even as I write this I'm trying to avoid eye-contact, so to speak, in an effort to keep them at bay. So, moving along...<br />
<br />
Singing runs the gamut. On the one hand, anybody can do it. Anybody.
As long as you don't delve into its mysteries too deeply. Once you
start to analyze song, it's really quite complicated. There's the pitch
and the tone and the tempo, the key signature, the style. All sorts of
things, really. But then that is another beauty of song: Truly something for everyone.Marytoohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08234537905380897920noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3391875252197569391.post-24939344178295708502013-05-10T00:32:00.000-05:002013-05-17T07:06:22.406-05:00Five-Minute Friday...COMFORTComfort kinda gets a bad rap. In our modern society, we want to
think comfort is for wimps and sissies. Who needs comfort when we can
have adventure? Why tie yourself up (or down) with comfortable old
friends and family when you could be out making new friends? Comfort is
almost viewed as something primitive, something we are too
sophisticated to need or want. But.... When you peel off the facade,
it's what we want. <br />
<br />
Comfort is our default. We start
looking for it the instant we make our way to the world. First it's
from our mother. So far so good. But after awhile she hands us off to
some else, or sets us down, and that's the beginning of enlarging our
comfort zone. Pretty soon it's full of other people and lots of places,
but still our own little corner of the world, and we start to like it.<br />
<br />
But
nooooooo, that's not good enough. Before long, we get badgered into
stretching our comfort zone just a l-i-t-t-l-e bit more. It's scary out
there! It's lonely out there! But if we take one step at a time, we
can expand our comfort zone gradually, and we can even like it.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://lisajobaker.com/five-minute-friday/" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" title="Five Minute Friday"><img alt="Five Minute Friday" height="200" src="http://lisajobaker.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/06/5minutefriday.jpg" style="border: medium none;" title="Five Minute Friday" width="200" /></a>Some
of us go a long way. We leave our family, we leave our friends, we
leave town, we even leave the country. And it's all exciting and
adventurous. But I've been around awhile, and I have observed that at
some point in our lives, if we live long enough, almost all of us start
looking for comfort again. Sometimes we get a warning that our time is
about up, and whaddya know, that's when we want to go back to our
memories of when things were good, and we were . . . yes . . .
comfortable.<br />
<br />
Hmmm.... maybe comfort is more than it's cracked up to be...Marytoohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08234537905380897920noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3391875252197569391.post-57637778832232228682013-03-22T21:46:00.000-05:002013-03-23T21:49:52.067-05:00Five-Minute Friday...REMEMBER"Remember that time when......?" And then you can just fill in the blank. Sometimes it draws gales of laughter, sometimes it elicits tears. But always it is a reminder of....back when. Back before we were us.<br />
<br />
Remembery, as my kidlets used to call it, is what hold us together. It joins us with ourselves. It connects us with our families, our friends, our churches, even with our country. It is our common-ness. It is what makes us who and what we are.<br />
<br />
True, we have only the moment. It's a really odd thing if you stop to consider that while we are always in the present, the present lasts only an instant. And the future might never be, so that leaves the past as the main event. We are where and who we are because of where we were.<br />
<br />
Old friends are gold, and our siblings are part and parcel with ourselves, because after all is done, what we are is what we remember.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://lisajobaker.com/five-minute-friday/" title="Five Minute Friday"><img alt="Five Minute Friday" src="http://lisajobaker.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/06/5minutefriday.jpg" style="border: none;" title="Five Minute Friday" /></a> Marytoohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08234537905380897920noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3391875252197569391.post-17515816080456084412013-03-15T15:56:00.001-05:002013-03-15T15:56:04.558-05:00Five-Minute Friday...RESTWhen my kidlets were growing up, one of our favorite books was <i>Rest, Rabbit, Rest</i>. I just loved how Rabbit had his schedule all planned out to the minute. I wanted mine to be like that. Alas, it didn't work out for me. <br />
<br />
If you are like Rabbit, a red-blooded American with a work ethic and a Type-A personality, Rest is....well, uh, a four-letter word. People like Rabbit make people like me feel like SLUGS.<br />
<br />
I think my problem, apart from being a laid-back, Type-B personality, is that I am far too easily distracted. My thoughts wander, first down this Rabbit trail, and then that one, till the next thing I know I don't even know what I set out to do.<br />
<br />
Like now, for instance. I started out writing about Rest, but now I'm on to my meandering mind.<br />
<br />
To get back on the topic, I find that Rest is highly underrated. (Is that an oxymoron?) Rest is underappreciated in this busy world that we live in. There are so many more important things to do.<br />
<br />
There is soooo much that needs to be done. The relentless necessities of survival, ie the laundry, cooking, gardening, shopping. Then there is the job in order to facilitate the aforementioned. And of course we like to have a little fun.<br />
<br />
But sometimes only Rest will do. Some days, like yesterday, I got up feeling lousy and went from the bed to the couch where I spent most of the day sleeping. And today I am only slightly more energetic. Today I am Resting to recover from Resting all day yesterday. <br />
<br />
All the Rest of the chores...they can wait.<br />
<a href="http://lisajobaker.com/five-minute-friday/" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" title="Five Minute Friday"><img alt="Five Minute Friday" src="http://lisajobaker.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/06/5minutefriday.jpg" style="border: medium none;" title="Five Minute Friday" /></a>Marytoohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08234537905380897920noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3391875252197569391.post-83855502249800536252013-03-08T08:44:00.000-06:002013-03-09T08:56:15.934-06:00Five-Minute Friday....HOME<a href="http://lisajobaker.com/five-minute-friday/" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;" title="Five Minute Friday"><img alt="Five Minute Friday" src="http://lisajobaker.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/06/5minutefriday.jpg" style="border: medium none;" title="Five Minute Friday" /></a>Home is it.<br />
<br />
Today home is a cozy winter day. Rain drizzling outside, a fire crackling in the fireplace, a roast in the crockpot, coffee in my cup, and the murmur of the tv from the living room where the Man is happily playing on his laptop. <br />
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Home isn't always this way. Some days it's texts from the girls. This one's kid is throwing up, that one's dog is sick. It could be a text from one of the boys. Maybe a report that the girl standing next to him in airborne school is named Bertha...a throwback to a very different time indeed.<br />
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Sometimes home is a breezy spring morning sitting outside on the swing talking on the phone to my most highly favored cousin or my baby sister. Laundry is blowing on the clothesline, later to be made into a bed smelling of fresh air and sunshine.<br />
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Home is here. Home is now. It's a memory. It's a dream. Home is everything. It's as good as it ever gets. Marytoohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08234537905380897920noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3391875252197569391.post-19413455054970456482013-02-22T09:33:00.004-06:002013-03-09T08:23:28.036-06:00Five-Minute Friday...WHAT MAMA DID<a href="http://lisajobaker.com/five-minute-friday/" title="Five Minute Friday"><img alt="Five Minute Friday" src="http://lisajobaker.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/06/5minutefriday.jpg" style="border: none;" title="Five Minute Friday" /></a><br />
<br />
Mama is the last of our parents. She is the only living grandparent my children have left. She is all that stands between us being the "old folks" of the family.<br />
<br />
Mama was, like many women, a brave woman. But her bravery was in a class of its own, being called on to follow Daddy and haul us all off to the wilds of South America, including a stint in the Amazon rainforest, before the Amazon rainforest was cool. Before it was ever heard much of at all, actually.<br />
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For a kid, that is Adventure in Spades. For a mom, not so much. She, reluctantly, took on the homeschooling of three children, before homeschooling was cool. She had to learn how to cook foods she had never seen or heard of. She had to wash the family laundry in the river. Not unlike the Pioneer women of American history, she had to hold the fort while Daddy traipsed off deeper into the jungle in search of gold and other precious things, for weeks and months at a time, with no communication whatever, and only a hope that he would come back.<br />
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Later we moved to town where she counted herself oh-so-fortunate to find a missionary hospital to have her baby in, a hospital run and staffed by a Seventh Day Adventist missionary doctor and his nurse/wife, who became lifelong family friends.<br />
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I can only now appreciate the courage it took for her to go, three ~ and then four ~ children in tow, off to where there were headhunters lurking behind every tree. <br />
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Even now, when asked about it, she will often reply with "Don't remind me."Marytoohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08234537905380897920noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3391875252197569391.post-7822532983290712062012-11-30T11:42:00.000-06:002012-12-01T15:26:09.155-06:00Five-Minute Friday...WONDERWonder is a good thing, I think. I know we come with a generous capacity for wonder built right in. Just observe any child for a little while, and you will see. Questions and curiosity.<br />
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If you think about it... Sunrise, Sunset... Right there is cause to wonder aplenty. Add in every obscure mundanity in between, and the wonder is worth a lifetime. Unfortunately, it is all too easy to lose.<br />
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Somewhere along the line, here come the tainted and the jaded. Hang out with them long enough, and suddenly everything is taken for granted. The ante goes up and up and up, and there goes the wonder. Suddenly, sadly, nothing is enough. What a shame.<br />
<br />
Are wonder and gratitude somehow connected? I wonder... <br />
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<a href="http://lisajobaker.com/five-minute-friday/" title="Five Minute Friday"><img alt="Five Minute Friday" src="http://lisajobaker.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/06/5minutefriday.jpg" style="border: none;" title="Five Minute Friday" /></a>Marytoohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08234537905380897920noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3391875252197569391.post-13119964668402862622012-11-23T22:59:00.003-06:002012-12-01T12:04:56.789-06:00Five-Minute Friday....THANK YOU"Thank you" is one of my favorite things. From the sublime to the ridiculous, there is always sooooo much to be thankful for! <br />
<br />
Speaking of the sublime, I am thankful for the gift of WORDS. Oh, how I love words! I don't even necessarily care if they say anything; I just love to play with them.<br />
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Speaking of the ridiculous, I am thankful for the gift of laughter. Oh, how I love to laugh! And I am convinced that God has a sense of humor. How else could He have arranged life as He did!<br />
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Yesterday was Thanksgiving, which happens to be my very favorite holiday, all focused in, as it is, on the things that matter.<br />
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I am thankful for the gifts I have been blessed with; I am thankful for the opportunity to be a blessing now and then.<br />
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In everything give thanks....I Thessalonians 5:18<br />
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<a href="http://lisajobaker.com/five-minute-friday/" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" title="Five Minute Friday"><img alt="Five Minute Friday" src="http://lisajobaker.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/06/5minutefriday.jpg" style="border: medium none;" title="Five Minute Friday" /></a>Marytoohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08234537905380897920noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3391875252197569391.post-42796943844874450742012-11-16T08:56:00.002-06:002012-11-16T09:55:39.853-06:00Five-Minute Friday...STAY <a href="http://lisajobaker.com/five-minute-friday/" title="Five
Minute Friday"><img alt="Five Minute Friday" src="http://lisajobaker.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/06/5minutefriday.jpg" style="border: none;" title="Five Minute Friday" /></a><br />
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I like things to stay as they are. Most of the time. Alas, nothing is permanent, nothing stays.<br />
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That's the good news and the bad news. When things are like I like them, I want them to stay. When they aren't so good, I want them to improve. But, in spite of all of our modern notions of life, we cannot have it all.<br />
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What I really need to come to terms with is that YES = NO. Did I love my little 2yo's? Absolutely! Do I really want them to stay that way forever? Uh.....no. Yes to conducting the life and times of a 2yo (or two or three) = No to the luxury of no responsibility. It's all a big trade-off, everything in its own time.<br />
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Nothing stays the same for long. In Lamentations 3:23, even God's blessings are new every morning.<br />
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What I really need to do is to embrace the philosophy of a long-ago friend who declared that her favorite Scripture was "...and it came to pass," because ... it didn't come to stay.Marytoohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08234537905380897920noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3391875252197569391.post-73370700482587711992012-11-09T06:43:00.002-06:002012-11-16T08:54:38.315-06:00Five-Minute Friday...QUIETOne of my favorite Bible stories is found in I Kings 19. I only have five minutes, so to cut to the chase, God is in the stillness and quietness; He does not compete with noise.<br />
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It's no wonder God is lost today, with the general noise level that permeates every little piece of our society. No matter where I go, my head has to be full of sound. There is first the ubiquitous music. In the elevator, in the hardware store, on the bus. I can't even think to read my list in the grocery store. And in the restaurant... !!! Like the background murmur isn't enough, now there is a tv in every restaurant. No, make that a dozen tv's, because heaven forbid someone might sit down where they can't see one. <br />
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Everywhere I look, people have little speakers attached to their ears. They jog to music. They drive to music. I have even seen a woman in church with speakers in her ears and her CD player in her hand. Even more horrifying, I have seen babies and toddlers in the grocery store cart with earphones stuck on their heads. What could they be listening to? I'm sure it's all wholesome and everything, but really ... Are we just teaching a whole generation of kids that they must be entertained All. The. Time??? Are we raising children who cannot stand their own company?<br />
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"Make a joyful noise..." Well, there is definitely a time/place for that. But in the mundane every day-ness of life, I choose "Be still and know...."<br />
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<a href="http://lisajobaker.com/five-minute-friday/" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" title="Five Minute Friday"><img alt="Five Minute Friday" src="http://lisajobaker.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/06/5minutefriday.jpg" style="border: medium none;" title="Five Minute Friday" /></a>Marytoohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08234537905380897920noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3391875252197569391.post-38024976266893689852012-11-02T12:49:00.000-05:002012-11-09T09:28:32.595-06:00Five-Minute Friday...ROOTS <a href="http://lisajobaker.com/five-minute-friday/" title="Five Minute Friday"><img alt="Five Minute Friday" src="http://lisajobaker.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/06/5minutefriday.jpg" style="border: none;" title="Five Minute Friday" /></a><br />
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My husband has roots. He grew up in the very same house he first came home to from the hospital when he was born. He lived there right up until he graduated from high school and went away to school. Then after we got married, we went there to visit his parents. We slept in his same old room he had lived in all his life. We moved away, and his parents continued to live there until they went to the nursing home in their old ages. He knew all the neighbors. He knew all the neighbors' kids. He knew all the stories and histories of all the neighbors. He has roots.<br />
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I do not. By the time I graduated from high school I had moved 14 times that I can count. A couple of times we stayed in the same neighborhood. But other times we moved to different cities/states/countries/continents. Since I got married 38 years ago, I have moved another 16 times. No records, I know. My brother, for instance, has outmoved me by far. But still, it's been enough times to leave me pretty rootless.<br />
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One can't have everything, and I have learned a lot from the nomadic life, but I have always thought it would be really cool to have roots. Those people like my husband . . . if it wasn't a sin, I would envy them. ;-)Marytoohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08234537905380897920noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3391875252197569391.post-28425427840451344622012-10-26T16:14:00.000-05:002012-11-01T17:12:34.748-05:00Five-Minute Friday...VOICE<br />
Voices come in every color. There are screechy ones and soothing ones. Some are loud, some are whiny, some are commanding, some are just wimpy. Voices warn. Some have stories to tell. Some inspire confidence, some scare, some encourage. Some yell, some shout, some sing. <br />
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I like the singing ones. They open a whole other spectrum of their own: sopranos, bassos, tenors, altos, baritones. I love to hear the voices together when they are in tune and in sync with each other. When they're not.... ew, not so much. That can get kinda horrifying.<br />
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Sometimes they are saying things we really should be listening to. Some voices have important things to say. Some voices only think they do. But what every voice wants is...a voice! <br />
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The main thing that I want is to have a voice, which I don't always feel like I have, and the main thing I want from/for my voice, is that I want it to be heard.<br />
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<a href="http://lisajobaker.com/five-minute-friday/" title="Five Minute Friday"><img alt="Five Minute Friday" src="http://lisajobaker.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/06/5minutefriday.jpg" style="border: none;" title="Five Minute Friday" /></a> Marytoohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08234537905380897920noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3391875252197569391.post-82355665899308926572012-10-19T13:32:00.000-05:002012-11-01T17:12:21.657-05:00Five-Minute Friday...LOOK<a href="http://lisajobaker.com/five-minute-friday/" title="Five
Minute Friday"><img alt="Five Minute Friday" src="http://lisajobaker.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/06/5minutefriday.jpg" style="border: none;" title="Five Minute Friday" /></a><br />
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"LOOK! A deer!" That's what my children used to shout while pointing out the window, to DISTRACT me from something they didn't want me to see. That was a long, long time ago, when they were little kids at home, but it hung on. It is now a cherished family joke, and still gets dragged out now and then when someone wants to distract.<br />
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I am very visually-oriented, so looking is important to me. I look so much better than I hear, although I'm not sure I always see as well as I look. I think it's interesting that I can look at something and not see it. Or that I can look at something and see something different from what the person next to me sees when he looks at the very same thing. An extra set of eyes is always good to have.<br />
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When I look I often see exactly what I want to see. Or maybe I see only what is glaringly obvious. If I don't make the effort to discern what I'm really looking at, I see only what is on the outside. Sometimes that's dangerous, especially when calling judgments on other people.<br />
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Every day I am thankful that God doesn't only see what is on the outside of me, but that He sees what is on my heart. He sees what I really mean and what I really am, which I do not always communicate clearly.Marytoohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08234537905380897920noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3391875252197569391.post-32318756999033132542012-10-17T15:33:00.000-05:002018-09-29T15:18:04.173-05:0017th Day of Empty Nesting...Illusions/Delusions<br />
DISCLAIMER: TMI at the end.<br />
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When I was a kid, I thought pretty much what every kid still thinks. Namely that "when I'm grown up and can do what I please..."<br />
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It did not take very long at all for that lie to rear its ugly head. About two minutes after I became grown up, I started taking on responsibilities.<br />
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First it was a job. I had to get myself to and from work. And pay taxes for Pete's sake. That sure never figured in my blueprint. <br />
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Next thing I knew, I had to buy my own shampoo and toothpaste. I never saw that coming either.<br />
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Pretty soon it was a husband. So much for doing what I please.<br />
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Then kidlets. The ultimate (though voluntary) slavery. I not only couldn't do what <i>I</i> wanted, my entire existence seemed to twist itself around to focus on doing everything <i>they</i> wanted. Day after day, I gave my life over not to what I pleased, but to what I must: the nurture and development of four marvelous creatures.<br />
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And one day...Enter the Empty Nest. Now there is no one prying my eyelids open if I happen to sleep past 7am. Now I am free to go to bed any time I want, without having to wait on the last kidlet to come home. We can have milkshakes for dinner if we want to. If I suddenly get a notion to take off someplace, I am off without having to find four jackets and prod four reluctant kidlets to visit the bathroom before we leave the house.<br />
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It's true, there is a lot of freedom in the Empty Nest. The trouble is that now it just seems like a lot more trouble than it's worth. We no longer need or even want all that freedom. Like so many things, it came around too late. The reality is, that now that we can run around the house naked, we forgot why we wanted to.Marytoohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08234537905380897920noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3391875252197569391.post-45505410960559620102012-10-16T23:49:00.000-05:002012-11-01T15:50:57.038-05:0016th Day of Empty Nesting...Shopping<br />
My pre-Empty-Nested life included frequent trips to MoreMart, sometimes multiple trips in one day, because <i>some</i>body <i>alllll</i>ways needed <i>some</i>thing. <br />
<br />
We made regular bulk purchases of socks and underwear, blue jeans and t-shirts, and pickles by the gallon. Shoes, coats, gloves, school supplies, soap, shampoo... And those were the bare necessities. When you added in the games, toys, seasonal fun, electronics, craft items, office supplies, towels, sheets, household items, and yard things...oh, my, it was just Open Season on the wallet.<br />
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And don't forget food!!! The most basic necessity of them all kept me running from MoreMart to the co-op to the farmer's market to the grocery store, often with a mile-long list in one hand, and a collection of coupons in the other. No doubt about it, shopping is a serious proposition, especially when you have a house full of kidlets.<br />
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I am <i>not</i> a shopper. Not by any remote stretch of the imagination. I'd rather take a beating than go shopping. And now I don't have to. We no longer buy anything with any sort of regularity. Shoes and clothes can go years without needing to be replaced. Household things never wear out. Personal items are no more than ever-so-occasional purchases. It is not at all unusual, now, for a month or more to go by without me having to see the inside of a MoreMart. I do wander over to the grocery store a little more often, but food is no longer consumed in frantic quantities, so even that has taken on a somewhat leisurely pace.<br />
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Yes, the Empty Nest has its rewards which are often bittersweet, but here, at last, is one pure, unadulterated pleasure: Shopping is Optional.Marytoohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08234537905380897920noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3391875252197569391.post-4533788423993148632012-10-15T23:37:00.000-05:002012-10-25T06:34:21.029-05:0015th Day of Empty Nesting...Church<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Now:</span><br />
<br />
<ul>
<li>Praying</li>
<li>Singing</li>
<li>Listening</li>
<li>Concentrating </li>
<li>Contemplating</li>
<li>Reflecting</li>
<li>Aaaaaahhh.....</li>
</ul>
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Then:</span><br />
<br />
<ul>
<li> Playing tic-tac-toe</li>
<li> Making mazes</li>
<li>Dressing paper dolls</li>
<li>Sticking stickers</li>
<li>Coloring</li>
<li>Examining "I Spy"</li>
<li>Answering/Asking questions</li>
<li>Reading stories</li>
<li>Drawing pictures</li>
<li>Finding Waldo</li>
<li>Getting toes stepped on (even while sitting down)</li>
<li>Taking trips to the bathroom</li>
<li>Shhhh-ing </li>
<li>Getting squirmed on </li>
<li>Doodling</li>
<li>Writing notes</li>
<li>AAAAAGGGGHHHH!!!!!!! </li>
</ul>
<br />
<br />Marytoohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08234537905380897920noreply@blogger.com0