We will miss you Joy

"This is not at all how
We thought it was supposed to be
We had so many plans for you
We had so many dreams

And now you've gone away
And left us with the memories of your smile
And nothing we can say
And nothing we can do
Can take away the pain
The pain of losing you, but ...

We can cry with hope
We can say goodbye with hope
'Cause we know our goodbye is not the end, oh no

And we can grieve with hope
'Cause we believe with hope (There's a place by God's grace)
There's a place where we'll see your face again
We'll see your face again

And never have I known
Anything so hard to understand
And never have I questioned more
The wisdom of God's plan

But through the cloud of tears
I see the Father smile and say well done
And I imagine you
Where you wanted most to be
Seeing all your dreams come true
'Cause now you're home
And now you're free, and ...

We have this hope as an anchor
'Cause we believe that everything God promised us is true, so ...

We wait with hope
And we ache with hope
We hold on with hope
We let go with hope"

With Hope, By Steven Curtis Chapman

A Little Summer R & R (Repair and Reorganize)

I need to get back to work tomorrow. After a two week vacation, I need a rest!

Oh, the first part of our two weeks off was wonderful. Lots of fun and activities with family and friends. The last half was spent cleaning and organizing and fixing. I learned I can even go without keeping up with news events and stay off the computer for an entire week....and not miss it at all!

Our bedroom has now been totally transformed to a peaceful and organized place - I can't believe my fingers just typed that! After 28 years of marriage and with kids, does anyone ever have a bedroom that doesn't harbour everything but the kitchen sink? More on that in a future blog....

My favorite part of our bedroom is this picture.

I couldn't resist buying it when I saw it. It now hangs over our bed and reminds me of our dog who has been known to creep from her place at the end of the bed up to the pillows, and peacefully sleep when we're not home (I have spies).

What a wonderful verse to hang over your head when you're snoozin'!!

Now if I can only come up with one to boot me out of bed when I've got to go to work.....perhaps a little King James version of Proverbs 6:9...."How long wilt thou sleep, O sluggard? when wilt thou arise out of thy sleep?"

Rabbit Droppings

I think I need therapy.

At times I believe that I am Mother Nature. No, on second thought, I'm much kinder than her. Call me Mother Nurture.

Last weekend I realized just how severe my 'problem' has gotten. Let me backtrack. Eleven days ago our dog made us very aware that we have yet another nest of baby rabbits beside the stairs of the deck. (Last year, there were 7 baby rabbits born on the other side of the stairs). Now, every time Nikki goes outside, she immediately runs to the nest - which is basically just a hole in the ground covered in a mixture of grasses and rabbit fur - and begins to dig her nose in to find them and tries to pull back the grass with her paw. The babies are laying nestled in a tight little ball just inches below their covering.

Here is a picture of them at just about a day or two old - their little bodies devoid of hair.

On the first day we found the babies, I was so afraid about Nikki's clawing, that I foolishly built a barrier around the nest, leaving room for Mother Rabbit to get in.

(I ask you, is this a picture of someone in their right mind?) By that evening however, I was so worried that the mother would never come back with all those chairs around, that I moved them all out of the way again. I was most concerned that I had not seen the mother anywhere, and wondering if she had abandoned them. Last year, the mother wasn't afraid and would nurse the babies while we were nearby. So I did some internet research and was relieved to learn that initially the mother rabbit only nurses once a day, most often in the middle of the night when no one is around, and then she stays far from the nest so as not to attract attention to it. (But why didn't she build it under the deck away from the dog????!!)

Each day, I pulled back the covering to ensure the babies were still alive, growing, and unharmed by the cats in the neighbourhood. Momma must have been caring for them. After a week they began to grow fur though their eyes were not yet open. I wanted so badly to gently stroke them or hold them, but I dared not.

Last weekend, we had visiting out of town relatives, so we invited family over for a BBQ. Of course our dog had to socialize with everyone on the deck which was fine when she kept distracted with the copious food that was all around her. But then Momma Rabbit decided to show up. Maybe she was concerned with all these people right around her babies, but she started getting braver and trying to make her way to the nest even with everyone sitting nearby. Any time someone stood up, she would hop away, and then slowly ease her way back again. We were all watching her. But then Nikki spotted her. Off the dog shot down the stairs with me in hot pursuit.

It was a slow-mo moment.

My hand was just an inch from her collar but I couldn't grab her as I chased her down the steps and tried to hang onto a plate of food at the same time. All I could attempt to grab was her tail and I held onto it for a brief moment, only to be left with some dog hair in my hand. How cruel was that to grab my dog's tail in the heat of the moment?! Hamburger and salads slid off my plate unto the ground as I chased the dog and yelled at her to stop. (Like a retriever would stop chasing a rabbit!). Poor Momma. She zig-zagged across the lawn with Nikki (the arthritic dog) right behind her, but she squeezed through the fence to the safety of the neighbours yard.

When others began picking up my food off the ground, I realized how stupid I must have looked and how I could have injured myself frantically trying to grab the dog while negotiating stairs and balancing paper plate piled with food. Thankfully no video cameras were capturing the moment.

I carried on conversation with my nephew and, perhaps with his psychological bent he sensed in pity, my need for therapy. He wondered if I might like to nurture some duck eggs that didn't hatch for a mother duck on his university campus. I began to picture a large pond in the yard with a family of ducks, but someone offered information that mother ducks will abandon eggs that are not going to hatch. Dream dissolved.

A little later, my daughter and her friend arrived to the BBQ and I'm not sure I even said hello before I began into the story of the rabbits. They looked at each other and broke into laughter immediately. My daughter interrupted and said to her friend, "You see? I told you she'd start talking about rabbits!!" It was then that it hit me that I'm a little too possessed in my desire to nurture nature. Apparently, as I was in the driveway saying goodbye to some of the relatives, the mother rabbit nursed her babies as the rest watched from the deck - with Nikki safely on leash. I felt better.

The next day, Momma Rabbit began pulling dead grass at the back of the yard and piling it over a hole she dug in the garden. We thought she might be planning to move her babies away from all the commotion, but they haven't moved, so perhaps it was her desperate attempt to draw attention away from her babies.

Here is what the bunnies look like now. Time will tell how many are in the 'pile'. Don't you just want to stroke that little head and scratch behind the ears? Very shortly, they will begin to scatter around the yard and we will have to keep the dog on a leash, until they move on. Otherwise, they will end up in Nikki's mouth for sure.

Much later in the evening of the BBQ, we saw a skunk on the front lawn. I'll have to do a little research about their nesting habits and see how eager I am to risk injury chasing a dog pursuing an odd looking striped kitty. Hopefully Momma skunk runs when pursued... with tail between legs!

It's a bird...it's a plane....it's a....lawnchair

My newspaper met me this morning with an interesting article. A man who lives in a town of 500 (picture that...a little boredom perhaps?) had a lofty dream as a boy to fly in a lawn chair using hellium balloons. I remember reading about him before...this was his third attempt. And this time he succeeded in flying from central Oregon to Idaho. He created quite a stir for all those small town folks.

Myrtle: "Wilbur! What in tarnation is that up in the sky?"

Wilbur: "Land sakes! It's a cotton-pickin' feller in a lawn chair!"

Lofty dreams indeed.

It seems to have been a recurring theme for me in the last few weeks.

The other day I blogged of the challenge of a Sunday sermon. I am still telling myself that "I am a world changer" and trying to get a handle on that. This Sunday our pastor showed a video clip with descriptions of the 12 unlikely guys that Jesus chose to get his message out and help others....fisherman, bribe taker, terrorist, doubter, loud mouth, etc.

In the afternoon I went to watch Rumble perform and the theme of the event was, "Ordinary people doing extraordinary things". Again, God chose a dreamer (Joseph), a bumbling speaker (Moses), a deceiver (Jacob), a shepherd boy (David), and so on.

In the evening, I listened to the Watoto African Childrens Choir. Individual children, who are so amazingly gifted in music and dance, spoke of their lives in Uganda. They have been orphaned by Aids and other tragedies, children raising children because there are no parents. Little hope you would think. Yet they plan to be leaders in their country, each with lofty goals in the midst of insurmountable difficulties. To watch them joyfully dance and sing, "I Am Not Forgotten" is a heart tugging moment.

Ordinary people.

Imperfect people.

Unfortunate people.

With lofty dreams and goals despite incredible odds.

I'm going to go outside and rig up a lawn chair. Or maybe sit in it for a bit until I have a goal with a lot more impact for Myrtle and Wilbur.

I am not forgotten

I am not forgotten

I am not forgotten

God knows my name

He knows my name

Light over darkness

Strength over weakness

Joy over sadness

He knows my name

Father to the fatherless

Friend to the friendless

Hope for the hopeless

He knows my name

I will praise You

I will praise You

For I am fearfully and wonderfully made

I am not forgotten

Never forsaken

"I Am Not Forgotten" Israel

Ironing things out

I'm afraid I have a confession to make.

I'm using again.

Funny, I had always been proud of the fact that I wasn't a user any more. I had tried it a few times but it consumed my time and left me so dissatisfied.....and yet now, I find myself slinking down to the secluded laundry room to do it in private. It all started up again for me when I recently bought a bedskirt.

Yes, I bought a bedskirt which, as an added bonus, helps to conceal the golden retriever hair clumps that gather under the bed. I put the 'dryclean only' bedskirt into the washing machine, and then the dryer, and it came out really wrinkled. It looked awful and it really needed to be neatly pressed so the pleats would hang nicely and look sharp (while hiding the dog hair). I spent the next 15 minutes trying to find my iron. It was a used iron with a detachable cord that would never stay attached. I would have to keep holding the cord in place in order to keep the iron hot, and I guess that was what cured me forever from using.

I have tidbits of memories of my mother using a huge contraption to iron sheets when I was very young. I was fascinated by it. I cannot believe that I found the exact same machine on the internet on a website dedicated to the history of ironing (mmmhmm....the whereto place for exciting reading - actually, the website is quite humorous to me in places, especially the old advertisements). When I saw these pictures I felt like I flashed back into my childhood - bizarre! I remember that red cardboard tube and I can still smell the freshly pressed sheets, and hear the sounds of the Gladiron as my mom pushed the lever with her knee.

I don't remember the machine in my later childhood. My mother got an iron and....no word of a lie.......I watched her iron underwear. She ironed underwear!!!! She worked full time, managed a household, and ironed underwear and pillowcases and dish towels and men's handkerchiefs (and everyone born after the 70's says, 'handkerchiefs??). Oh you may still see those today if you're a church goer. Some ministers use them to wipe the sweat from their brow after having wiped their nose with it. I would refuse to marry any man who would want to own (and use) a handkerchief and expect me to wash (and iron) it.

So I think my rebel little heart learned young that I would never iron anything I didn't have to. When I married, I proudly bragged that anything that wrinkled would simply go back in the dryer until the wrinkles were gone. There is no place in a busy woman's life for such a time-wasting task on something that is just going to wrinkle again anyways. My kids don't have memories like me of an iron....except for the fall leaf project in elementary school - remember that waxed paper smell of ironing those leaves? If you ever had a rare emergency ironing job after that, the smell of autumn leaves and waxed paper emanated from the iron years later.

.....Back to my search for the old iron..... It must have been my husband who put the iron aside when we did some renovating in the basement. I finally found it in an old 4 quart fruit basket covered in dirt, dust, and cobwebs. I guess he didn't know what it was!

Good for nothing now but the garbage. So, off to Wal-mart I went and bought a new fangled iron with retractable cord. I was so impressed with the job it did on my bedskirt that I went on and ironed a few other things. After all, I wanted to get my money's worth for this new iron. Then I spent hours cleaning out the laundry room (you have no idea how much junk I threw out) to the point that I could permanently set up my ironing board. I knew that if the iron wasn't readily accessible, I would never pull it out again.

Oh the irony.

And so I'm back to being a user. (I'm glad I've aired the dirty laundry.) I have ironed a few of my shirts that I normally accepted as 'supposed' to have the wrinkled look. What a difference. Now people don't look at me with that 'poor woman...she must have slept in her clothes' look in their eyes anymore.

Oh don't be concerned about me. I'm still only an occasional user and plan to stay that way. If I ever do become hardcore, don't you worry. I'll get things ironed out.