Absence Makes The Heart Grow Fonder

I'm here, Interpeeps.

I'm just very busy right now.

Don't give up on me. I'll be checking in from time to time.

In the meantime, if you want to know what I'm doing, you can almost always see me over at Post-Stroke. Taking care of Mom is top priority now.

I hope you understand.

With Gratitude

The blogging community is one I am forever grateful to have been introduced to. They are made up of kind, loving, big-hearted people from across the globe.

I know. I have been and continue to be a recipient of that kindness, and it is appreciated.

For all of you who have stopped by here or by Post Stroke in the past few days to give a word of encouragement, thank you. Your thoughts and prayers mean more than you could know.

Rest In Peace

I have just returned from saying goodbye to my aunt for the last time.

And I have to tell you, it was a terrible, wonderful time.

She was beautiful. Absolutely gorgeous, decked out in a beaded lace red dress. She wore all her favorite jewelry, and her makeup was perfectly done.

The walls and floor were literally covered with flowers and plants. Roses were the dominant flower, and those could be found in almost every arrangement. She even held a rose in her hands.

The visitation was from 5:00 p.m. to 8:00 p.m. During that time the line of people never died down, but wound around and out the door. People who knew her, people who cared about her, people she'd touched in her lifetime.

The next day at the church the ladies served the family dinner in the basement at noon. I saw cousins I hadn't seen in years, and caught up with long-lost relatives. My aunt would have loved such an occasion.

After I finished eating I went upstairs to spend a few moments alone. I had some final words with the shell that was not her before the service began, then took my place next to the piano, hidden by all the flowers.

Friends filed in to the auditorium, and before I knew it all but the space reserved for the family was filled. And still they kept coming. People stood at the back to pay tribute to this wonderful woman, in the middle of a work week, in the middle of the day. There must have been at least three hundred people there, not counting family.

The family came in, sat down, and the service began. One of her favorite songs, Victory In Jesus, was sung by a local trio. Her obituary was read by a pastor who became a pastor because of the leadership and guidance my aunt and uncle had given him as a troubled teen. My cousin, her son, read a few words she had written about how she treasured the friendships she had during her lifetime.

And then it was my turn.

I sang Sweet By and By for her. I only choked up once, when I looked at my uncle. He sobbed through the whole song. But God gave me peace until after I was through singing. Then I sat down in my place behind the flowers and the piano, and I was able to release all the emotion I had to hold on to until then.

The pastor spoke for a while, then my uncle got up and read a poem about my aunt. I honestly don't know how he got through it. All I know is that he loved her with a mighty love, and he will be lost without her.

We all will.

Today I'm back at work. I'm exhausted, and all I can think about is going home and going to bed.

I think we all could use some peaceful rest.

In The Sweet By And By We Shall Meet On That Beautiful Shore

That song has been running through my head for the past few days.

It's the song I will sing at my dear, sweet Aunt Joyce's funeral.

She went home to be with the Lord today at about 4:45 p.m. She died peacefully, in her own bed, surrounded by the people she loved most in this world.

The last time I saw her we knew she wouldn't last the year. She had planned out her funeral and taken that burden off of her family. Before I left her that last time I asked her to be the first one to meet me when I arrived in Heaven, and she agreed. She was 67 years old.

I loved her and will always love her as the big sister I never had. She showed me what God was. She lived her entire life as a prayer to Him. There is no greater praise that can be given to any human being.

She never stopped marveling at the wonders of His creation, even though she lived among them every day. The beauty of the mountains she lived in, the changing seasons, eagles on the wing; all were noticed and appreciated as gifts from the Father. And she passed on that appreciation to me and to my children through me.

I can't help but know she gave these gifts to everyone she met. What a wonderful legacy to leave!

While visiting her the last time I was able to show her how she influenced me to notice and thank God for His gifts. She had lost the ability to cry with her disease, but told me she would if she could after viewing the video below. You see, she was my companion as I took the photos. She was the reason behind them.
And to honor her, I'd like to leave you with this.

Frankly, My Dear, I'd Rather Be Somewhere Else

I can see this place in my mind just as if it were real.

The entry is a red clay road that's just been graded. It winds its way through a canopy of trees, which should be turning riotous with color about now. The air is crisp - just cool enough for a flannel shirt and jacket.

There's an old shed that's been converted into a garage, and that's where I park my car. A soft rain begins to fall, and I hurry to unload and take everything inside. I walk up the gray flagstone walk to the porch of the cabin. There's a porch swing on my left and a woodpile on my right so I won't have to go far to feed the fire. The screen door squeaks as I open it and unlock the front door.

Inside there's a big rag rug over the wide-planked wooden floor. To my left is a table with four chairs. To my right is a big, antique-iron double bed. The mattress is as soft as a cloud. There are homemade patchwork quilts covering it, a nightstand with a lamp next to it, and another rag rug at the side. The bed is tucked into the corner facing the fireplace across the room.

In front of the table and chairs is the kitchen area. It has modern amenities, but looks to be antique. Wooden cabinets hold dishes, utensils and cookware. There's a small stove, oven and refrigerator, along with a garbage disposal and microwave. Checked gingham curtains are at the windows. Through the door on the back wall there's a mudroom that houses the washer/dryer combination, ironing board and iron, and the pantry. A door leads to the back steps. A small utility closet to the left holds the water heater, furnace and air conditioning units.

In front of the bed, in the center of the room facing the back wall, there is an overstuffed couch with an overstuffed chair and ottoman on the right, a large, padded rocker on the left. The chairs are placed to take advantage of the huge fireplace on the back wall. There are end tables with lamps at either end of the couch, and a reading lamp by my favorite chair. A large rag rug covers the floor. There are more quilts on the chairs and couch to snuggle in while I read.

All around the fireplace are bookshelves, which fairly burst with volumes of pages to explore. There is a small space on one shelf that houses a sound system, and the remainder of that shelf is devoted to music. All kinds of music, from classical to new age.

In the corner to the right of the bookshelves there is another door that leads to the bathroom. The tub is deep, and perfect for long soaks. There's a shower, sink and toilet as well, with storage for towels above the toilet. More rag rugs are used as bathmats and foot-warmers when standing at the sink or getting out of the shower.

Outside the windows there is a forest of trees. Birds sing and crickets chirp. Squirrels run by with nuts to bury for the coming winter. The stream running next to the cabin is clear and cold. Wildflowers abound, and their beauty is something to behold.

This is my place. This is where I go when things are stressful and there seems to be no end in sight.

And maybe some day, some day before I die, it will be real.

Happy Birthday, Baby!

Seventeen never looked so good!

XXXOOO,

Mom

One Down, One To Go, And A Must-Have Kitchen Tool

Tomorrow is a momentous day. Tomorrow, one of our cars pays off.

While I am jumping for joy at the prospect, we still have another 16 months to go before we're car-debt free. And forgive me for being the least bit pessimistic, but folks?

The other shoe ain't dropped yet.

We've had a run of financial attacks here that would fell mightier oaks than us in normal circumstances, not to mention the emotional and physical challenges we've faced this past year. And they aren't over yet.

But we're starting to be able to laugh about them. Just.

For instance, when the microwave gave out, Hubster brought out a counter top model he had at a house he was remodeling. Since we had no room on the counter top, it's been sitting on a chair in the dining room. It's served us well in that we haven't had to do without one, but lately it's developed a few little quirks.

Like not turning ON when you press the button that says ON.

We have to smack it several times with a large serving spoon before it will take heed and obey the call. After that it straightens up and microwaves right. We can always tell when someone is heating something up, though, because the whacking sound reverberates throughout the house.

That is, if you're doing it right.

When it finally gives up the ghost we'll see if there's enough saved up in the kitty to purchase a replacement. One that fits over the stove as it is supposed to do. One that will probably last just about as long as it takes to install it.

So we'll get rid of the counter top model.

But we're keeping the spoon....just in case.