tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31833859795127651082023-11-16T00:16:06.858-07:00Journey To HolinessCatholic, Wife, Mom, Norwegian-American, Writer, Retired Soldier, Gardener, Quilter, Photographer, Historian, Traveler… (this list is not in any particular order, nor is it all encompassing). The definition of me refuses to be packaged neatly in a box. My writing desires to fly out in countless directions to explore the world or at least my world.Lisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14752403362095757217noreply@blogger.comBlogger763125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3183385979512765108.post-84100501029408894562023-02-16T15:55:00.002-07:002023-02-16T15:55:39.687-07:00Work<p><span style="font-size: large;"> <span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;">First, I wanted to chat a little bit about my last post with Saint Joan of Arc’s quote before going on to the next quote. I have felt like a fraud. I have not felt brave at all this week. I have worried about the new house payments. They are steeper than I would like facing retirement. On the other hand, I fear staying in our current house. My dreams have ended here. I need to dream. All of my dreams on the new property. Of course, then I worry that I won’t be able to work my dreams. Ugh, I need to get out of my head. So, yes, I can be brave, but I can also be scared. Today, I went and spent time praying at the chapel on campus. I felt much better. God will work it out. I will work my dream. I will trust him even when I have a bad day or week. But onto this week's quote about work.</span></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgj4Cv3qZlZ1p6Dv7leRDXpNa1sLHonBaOH86QqTAVXjgXZHSJqQ7li-3Rc8VlRn2je7ulPd1p6p26T-2dU8SIMLoNmGediXz73JLeS4QwOww9g0tYnGPva5r9flKiGwQtjYrrQx3fGmLQUj-B5OXiL9F1tcwDFv__6TgdQebn6OwvVDRLUxlzZUpFURQ/s1280/thumbnail_20220604_112019.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="576" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgj4Cv3qZlZ1p6Dv7leRDXpNa1sLHonBaOH86QqTAVXjgXZHSJqQ7li-3Rc8VlRn2je7ulPd1p6p26T-2dU8SIMLoNmGediXz73JLeS4QwOww9g0tYnGPva5r9flKiGwQtjYrrQx3fGmLQUj-B5OXiL9F1tcwDFv__6TgdQebn6OwvVDRLUxlzZUpFURQ/w288-h640/thumbnail_20220604_112019.jpg" width="288" /></a></span></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span></span><p></p><span id="docs-internal-guid-4584d0b3-7fff-57bb-a5c9-cb5b5e67a3e0"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /><br /><br /></span><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">He who labors as he prays lifts his heart to God</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">with his hands.</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;"> Saint Benedict</span></span></p><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">Last year, I studied Saint Benedict and his book that he wrote, “The Rule.” The book is written for those in a Benedictine monastery, so some of the chapters didn’t completely relate to the life of the laity. Other chapters were amazing. What I love about the overarching theme was praying while working.</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">I am not good at this. I want to be, but I usually forget to pray until halfway through a task. Hum, if at all. In fact, just thirty minutes ago, I washed a bunch of dishes. I didn’t pray. I worked in the garage earlier. I didn’t pray. I get very frustrated with myself. A lot of the jobs I do around the house are perfect times to pray. Instead, I am in a hurry and forget. I need to listen to music, but my daytime housemate grumbles. </span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">When I am in my quilt room, I am better at praying. Many times, I turn on my Christian music or some traditional chant. This puts me in the right mindset for prayer. If my mind wanders, the lyrics bring me back to my prayer. Of course, many times, the music is the prayer. Yet, the prayer doesn’t always come naturally.</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">The garden is my natural environment for prayer. Okay, church is the main place, but the garden is the next best place. Outside always brings me closer to God. I actually feel like the two of us work together in the garden. I plant, water, weed, and mulch while He gives the plants a little nudge to grow. He adds color to the leaves and pedals. At times, He calls for a ladybug to join us or a curious bird. I am always thankful in the warm sun with the blue sky above me. Oh, and nothing is better than sipping a cup of coffee in the crisp morning air as we contemplate what area of the garden we are going to work on until the heat forces me inside. Yep, I love gardening season when I feel Him most.</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">Until spring, I will continue to try to pray while doing the dishes, laundry, making the bed, sweeping, moping, and all those domestic chores. Oh, I need to also pray while I pack up the house. There are so many opportunities to pray. The ultimate goal is to pray without ceasing.</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">Blessings.</span></span></p><div><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div></span>Lisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14752403362095757217noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3183385979512765108.post-42309678709300907612023-02-10T10:12:00.001-07:002023-02-10T10:12:09.865-07:00Poor Richard's Farm - Beginnings<span id="docs-internal-guid-c0cb65cb-7fff-9875-1d47-6b1c3fe02359"><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="color: #783f04; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #783f04; font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKoTZ9MXEB4l7hDFJklALVIXMJDoQQBtAu3X_zKjzK-xZIobFPZlMbGIdJxHfiXoQac5fHkY7IybnPkjFoZdm_RjG7tQw0Ct-9vPnDk0kRqpEAbJhdt6IXoCfORU4hg3EPFoipxkVsl498YfsIXwV_a_zlFNXsvpV4rT3y7LkgoBOvJdteDx2ZHvHdAQ/s976/Potholders.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="576" data-original-width="976" height="319" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKoTZ9MXEB4l7hDFJklALVIXMJDoQQBtAu3X_zKjzK-xZIobFPZlMbGIdJxHfiXoQac5fHkY7IybnPkjFoZdm_RjG7tQw0Ct-9vPnDk0kRqpEAbJhdt6IXoCfORU4hg3EPFoipxkVsl498YfsIXwV_a_zlFNXsvpV4rT3y7LkgoBOvJdteDx2ZHvHdAQ/w541-h319/Potholders.jpg" width="541" /></a></span></div><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="color: #783f04; font-size: large;"><span style="color: #783f04; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></span></span></p><span style="color: #783f04; font-size: large;"><span> </span>Wow, what a week! Most of you know that a few years back, Jerry started a catering business called Poor Richard’s BBQ. He had a few catering events; plus, he did quite a few barbecue competitions. In fact, last summer, while he was in between deployments, he participated in two competitions. Part of our reason for buying property is to have space for his business.</span></span><p></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="color: #783f04; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Now, as always, the family has big dreams for the land, huge vegetable and herb gardens, fruit orchard, fruit bushes, meat and egg chickens, goats, pigs, and miniature cows. We want to sell the farm fresh food along with my quilting items and who knows what el<br />se. We are going to marry the farm adventure with Jerry’s adventure. Hence, we are naming our place Poor Richard’s Farm. So exciting!</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="color: #783f04; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The beginning of the adventure started with a dream of wanting to be more self-sustaining. For two years, I have been watching the real estate market. We talked about it off and on with excitement. I had thought we would buy land for a house for Clay, but then this little piece of heaven popped up. We put in an offer. The buyers counted. We accepted. All in a week! </span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: #783f04; font-size: large;">Last week, our house went on the market after seven mad days of getting the house ready. I felt like I was doing my mom’s house all over again. I even wondered if I was a bit of a hoarder. It is amazing how much stuff is collected in 22.5 years and 3 kids!!! The house on the inside looks amazing. Well, since the house listed, we have had 15 showings. Two of the showings were people coming a second time. I am over the moon with how it all has been going.</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: #783f04; font-size: large;">I am so antsy to get the farm started. I want to run to Murdock’s to buy a chicken feeder and waterer. I have refrained because I don’t want more stuff to store at this place and move to the new place. Ugh!!! Yesterday, I couldn’t resist beginning a new project. I went to Hobby Lobby and bought materials to work on some potholders. One, we need some new potholders. Two, I can put some up on Etsy to begin trying to sell products.</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: #783f04; font-size: large;">A friend of Clay’s advised that we take things slowly and to not bite off more than we can handle. This is exactly how we are planning the adventure. I am on a ten-year plan. Jerry is on a five-year plan. So typical for both of us. We have agreed on our one-year plan. Once everything is sold and bought, we work on laying hens, gardens, trees, and catering. We will begin to sell some quilting items and any products above what we can use if we have any. Clay will start his chicken tractor if we are ready later in the year. Madelle will find a puppy. We will also begin to do the research on a house for Clay. That is it. That is plenty!!!</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: #783f04; font-size: large;">Currently, we continue to show the house. With the nice weather, I will clean the yard. Leo bombs need to be disposed of in the dumpster. My garden pieces of art and clutter need to be rounded up. I know there is stuff under the snow, but some of it is peaking out. I need to continue to clean up the garage and move the items in the shed into the garage. In the mornings, I will work on potholders. In fact, I think I will do that now.</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: #783f04; font-size: large;">Blessings to you all!</span></span></p><div><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>Lisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14752403362095757217noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3183385979512765108.post-18106820543824498662023-02-06T10:11:00.004-07:002023-02-06T10:11:30.083-07:00Courage<p><span style="font-size: x-large;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgf1GpU12c_rMYcOLgszX1Lp4A2lys2Foo__GO_7cRfKnbFsTkE5WnDdwqfaQgQX5tvMFFXUzkoQZrhJ-MGaRhYrz44tGY1fpDSxVwpxqrv9AicSdgowtXLPiCYArvXCYY1XujmCga_FytwA_t3iv_SxgOhZ1DqbJ7v-jVpnZ8fJEqH10JbYFgp-Ihk8w/s1280/kayak.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="576" data-original-width="1280" height="222" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgf1GpU12c_rMYcOLgszX1Lp4A2lys2Foo__GO_7cRfKnbFsTkE5WnDdwqfaQgQX5tvMFFXUzkoQZrhJ-MGaRhYrz44tGY1fpDSxVwpxqrv9AicSdgowtXLPiCYArvXCYY1XujmCga_FytwA_t3iv_SxgOhZ1DqbJ7v-jVpnZ8fJEqH10JbYFgp-Ihk8w/w494-h222/kayak.jpg" width="494" /></a></span></div><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /><span style="font-family: Arial; text-align: center; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Go forward bravely. Fear nothing. Trust in</span></span><p></p><span id="docs-internal-guid-7ab540ec-7fff-53d6-c478-05dcc9dffffc"><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">God; all will be well.</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"> Saint Joan of Arc</span></span></p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Go forward bravely.” I have gone forward many times in my life. I will admit that I haven’t always done the movement bravely. When I was a little girl, I feared so much. I was very timid. I am sure it drove my dad nuts. Always wanting to please him, I would stifle my tears and work at going forward. Luckily, I spent half my summers with my older cousins and my aunt for four years. They worked at making me tougher by pushing me and demonstrating moxie. A different aunt also helped me become my own person.</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;">Signing up for the military was tough. I had to leave my new husband to attend BASIC training and my individual training, a little over four months of separation. The statistics were against us. Most couples divorce due to the stress, separation, and changes in the couple. I put my trust in God and Jerry. I put my trust in our belief of marriage. I did worry from time to time, but all ended well.</span></span></span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">While raising the kids, my biggest fear was them being on a boat without me. My dad loved taking them fishing. I cringed every time. This was such a stupid fear. Dad took me fishing all my life. Not once did we get in a bad situation. I trusted him with my life. Yet, I always worried when he took the kids out. I prayed. I trusted God to take care of all of them. I still worry. Since we bought kayaks, they have gone out with friends. I pray and pray. I distract myself so I don’t worry. All has gone well.</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;">The past couple of years, I have feared death approaching in all sorts of directions. I really feared Jerry, or I would die before he came back from deployment, and we would never see each other again. Silly, I know. I would pray and ask God to take the fear away. He did until I started thinking too much. I don’t so much fear the death part. I know heaven is at the end of the journey. My fear is separation from those I love. We have lost so many in the last few years. I miss them so much. Frankly, I need a break from loss.</span></span></span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;">I try to move bravely forward after I pray, giving the situation to God. Okay, maybe I move crazily forward. My goal for retirement was to have my house paid off with no debt. Last year, we bought a camper for Jerry. The debt is minimal, and I have it ¾ of the way paid off. With the camper, we needed a truck to pull it. I don’t completely count this debt because vehicles are a must. But now, I have convinced all of us that buying property and moving is a great idea. We are going to have a mortgage again. Uff da. Is that bravery or stupidity?</span></span></span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;">Part of me worries a bit. Will we sell our house at the right price? Will we be able to pay the new place off soon? I have a plan, but will life blow up my plan? For the most part though, I am not afraid. When I was forced to take a medical retirement early, I was concerned about my plan to pay off the house. My plan was fifteen years, it took seventeen instead. All ended well.</span></span></span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I have prayed about buying property for two years. Everything could fall through tomorrow, and we don’t get the new place. We may get the new place and not be able to sell our current place. I have no idea how this is going to work out. God knows. He is in charge. I trust him. When I have doubts and concerns, I pray. Then I step “bravely” forward.</span></span></p><div><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div></span>Lisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14752403362095757217noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3183385979512765108.post-12739424215705985552023-02-02T14:30:00.001-07:002023-02-02T14:30:53.204-07:00Revamp<p><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: x-large; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="font-size: x-large; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeX80K4XBL1-u-NalPJ7e7p1JH4lx_j0X1TvxIdr2BLhR25gOVuDVQc7xz162Lk87svQxolpP1Eg58Q68bAnaNPSd3HNst_gmb06fr36bZsNs9BeHGvbNYr8J-nCO4_xeDm0eYKGAQEW4TAulfPhjKFACMR-8VlJVV4UDPbPblCfi_lABGzpFnlLG1hA/s915/Revamp.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="915" data-original-width="575" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeX80K4XBL1-u-NalPJ7e7p1JH4lx_j0X1TvxIdr2BLhR25gOVuDVQc7xz162Lk87svQxolpP1Eg58Q68bAnaNPSd3HNst_gmb06fr36bZsNs9BeHGvbNYr8J-nCO4_xeDm0eYKGAQEW4TAulfPhjKFACMR-8VlJVV4UDPbPblCfi_lABGzpFnlLG1hA/w251-h400/Revamp.jpg" width="251" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A picture from our yard last summer.</td></tr></tbody></table></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-size: x-large; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-size: x-large; text-align: center;"><br /></div><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-size: x-large;"> I love the beginning of the new year. I also love January. This month I get to work on all my new plans for the year. Sure, the weather is cold. Yep, I don’t go outside as much as l like. The winter nights are long, but I have a list of items to work on. Yep, I love the beginning of a new year.</span><p></p><span id="docs-internal-guid-35778eb2-7fff-3ac0-abc8-eb10c542b3cc"><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;">As if new plans weren’t enough, I also pick a word to meditate on for the year. All last year, I worked on purpose, my purpose. I felt lost and adrift. What did I want to do when I grew up? I read a midlife crisis type book. I prayed. I went on a silent retreat. As the year closed, I thought my word for 2023 would be purpose. Well, a friend told me about a word generator on a website. For fun, I pushed the button. I received the word Revamp. Perfect. I love when that happens. So, all last month, I worked my five purpose statements that are intended to “revamp” my life.</span></span></span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Now that February has arrived, I am laughing at my list. Well, I am laughing at the last item on my list. Hum, maybe I should explain. I have five purpose (mission) statements. I won’t bore you with the wordiness of them. Here is the shortened version. The first is about growing my faith, becoming a better person, and sharing my faith with those who are interested. Next, I want to be work on being a better wife, mother, and friend. During the last year with Jerry in Kuwait, I buried myself in the quilt room. I was just too depressed and grumpy to release myself onto polite society. Now, I need to become available again to those I love. My health is and always will be precarious with the autoimmune diseases I have, let alone the nasal issues. However, I need to exercise more and hopefully lose a little weight. </span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: x-large;"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;">I of course also have a purpose statement for my hobbies. I knew with Jerry home the number of quilts would go from twenty a year to more like ten. This is actually why I am laughing at my list. I haven’t worked on a quilt for about two weeks. I barely finished a quilt for a dear friend. Thank goodness I don’t have any quilts I am making for gifts because, well, I don’t see any getting done in the near future. My new goal is maybe five completed by the end of 2023. This is because of my final purpose statement, work. Yep, work is going to waylay all my plans for the year, and I am so blasted excited. I am so revamping not only my life but my entire families. Opps.</span></span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;">For the last two weeks, Jerry and I have been working at buying a new house and a huge shop that are sitting on eleven acres of land. Yep, we are going for the new dream of being multiple acre landowners. We have been working finances for a loan. Our current house is going on the market tomorrow. Madelle and I have been decluttering and packing like crazy while Jerry and Clay have been moving boxes to a new storage unit that is helping the process. We have had numerous meetings with our real estate agent. Signing tons of paperwork, the whole nine yards or should I say eleven acres?</span></span></span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;">Where in the world did this come from? As a kid, I hated living in town. I wanted to live in the country so I could ride my horse every day. I wanted to have animals to take care of and places to explore. Years ago, Jerry offered to buy me land. I loved him so much for the sentiment. However, we were too busy. We both worked full time, were raising kids that were busy in tons of activities, and we lost two weekends a month due to our parttime military career. We were a town couple, a town family.</span></span></span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The deployments, state of the country, and loss changed all of us. For the last couple of years, we have discussed owning land as a family. The kids love the idea of being neighbors and the someday cousins being able to play together all the time. All of us love the idea of fresh eggs, fruits, vegetables, and meat. Madelle wants to raise beagles, and Jerry needs a place for his catering. I would love a bigger garden that isn’t so crowded that I have to <br />step over plants. And fresh meat, well, that is just an amazing opportunity. Clay is all set to help with fencing and animal tasks. He is in charge of a chicken tractor. Oh, the things I have been learning already!</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span> Stay tuned for the progress on Poor Richard's Farm.</span><br /></span></span></p><div><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div></span>Lisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14752403362095757217noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3183385979512765108.post-89125414312484961702023-01-30T09:08:00.001-07:002023-01-30T09:08:53.587-07:00Persistent<span id="docs-internal-guid-19948729-7fff-1bb6-878b-f3f4e9e97095"><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUNJ9_k-3hReZa-EB49e_Iojhj-F-DX9D80ExRlHYQV3VmGqfC0XegAiE9dPGRhCHVpB43GK7DprZwc5Amm2p_ji4g1j2zovGndW4-UoEJXf88pR8Bqkvb8QNmFIb_ettekifEuXQiVMtb_f18ERliI3ZFF6FH4GarYNzD3CwJudwtLzO_Zb8TwNN1gQ/s4032/20221129_064801.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1816" data-original-width="4032" height="215" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUNJ9_k-3hReZa-EB49e_Iojhj-F-DX9D80ExRlHYQV3VmGqfC0XegAiE9dPGRhCHVpB43GK7DprZwc5Amm2p_ji4g1j2zovGndW4-UoEJXf88pR8Bqkvb8QNmFIb_ettekifEuXQiVMtb_f18ERliI3ZFF6FH4GarYNzD3CwJudwtLzO_Zb8TwNN1gQ/w479-h215/20221129_064801.jpg" width="479" /></a></div><span style="font-family: Arial; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">The Greater and more persistent your confidence in God,</span></span><p></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">the more abundantly you will receive all that you ask.</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;"> St. Albert the Great</span></span></p><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Wow, what a quote! I love it, but I am not sure where to begin. In the last ten minutes, I have read it about ten times. The first part is easy. I believe in God completely. My confidence in His running my life is huge. I know that He loves me. He delights in me. We have a great relationship. Yes, I am like a toddler at times. I throw a fit or two. But I am completely honest with Him. I am confident in His love for me.</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The second part gets a little tricky. The quote at first leads me to believe that God gives me everything I want. However, I rarely ask for anything outright. I have always wanted to live in a place that is foreign to me. Years ago, I told Jerry that I would love for him to do a tour in Washington D.C. Hasn’t happened. We had the chance to move to Indiana. I was excited. God showed us staying in Helena was better. Now, I didn’t ask for the moves to happen. I just told God that it would be really cool and let him take the reins. We have stayed in Montana. I believe that will be true until the day I die. I am good with staying now that the kids are planning to stay in the Big Sky State.</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I have asked for God to intervene in my children’s lives. I prayed and prayed for Michel to come back home. I prayed his wife away. Yes, that doesn’t sound very Christian, but she abused him. I sobbed to God to fix the situation my way. I didn’t get what I asked for. Michel never came back to Helena or the family. Here is the thing, my ask was not Michel’s ask. God had to weigh my wants and needs to Michel’s wants and needs. During the entire six years of hell, I trusted God to take care of Michel. </span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">Where does that leave my asking of God to bring Michel home? Michel’s wife would have made his life a living hell if he tried to divorce her. She would have lied, manipulated, and drug Michel through every imaginable scenario to make him utterly miserable. She did it to her prior husband. I would love to say I know my son the best. I don’t. God does. God didn’t pull the trigger that caused a bullet to take Michel’s life. Only God knows who pulled the trigger. What I know is that God loves my son. Michel is safe from her now. And frankly, me and the rest of the family are also safe from her. Did I get what I asked for from God? No, Michel is gone. But yes, we are all safe. I am thankful for God’s goodness.</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">Of course, the first time I read the quote, I thought “of course, God has given me everything I want and need.” This is always my first thought. I am so very blessed! Sure, the last years have been a struggle in a few areas. But every moment of the day, I feel God’s love. I always have ten things to be thankful for when I close my eyes at night and say goodnight to my heavenly father. Love and thankfulness are truly my asks. He provides abundantly.</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">Blessings!</span></span></p><div><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div></span>Lisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14752403362095757217noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3183385979512765108.post-20432868838238557402023-01-17T10:18:00.002-07:002023-01-17T10:18:39.653-07:00Friendship<blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0 0 0 40px; padding: 0px;"><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">God sends us friends to be our firm support in the whirlpool of struggle. In the </span></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span id="docs-internal-guid-1fb778fa-7fff-59d4-241b-177828f5a734"></span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">company of friends, we will find strength to attain our sublime ideal.</span></span></p></blockquote><span id="docs-internal-guid-8a0f633d-7fff-c0cd-15b3-de50031348e4"><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"> </span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"> St. Maximilian Kolbe</span></span></p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /><br /></span><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">When I read this quote, I knew I had to write about my friends. Over the years, I have struggled with friendship during different seasons of my life. We probably all have. But, during other times, I have been so very blessed. I could list off many people who have been amazing friends. Since, my younger days a lot of them have drifted away. Some I am excited when I see friends from the past (well, in other parts of the world other than where I live; we are still friends) on Facebook. In fact, that is the reason I keep Facebook. I would miss them. Others still reach out with a text, call, or even a visit. In fact, on Michel’s birthday and/or death day, my college friend reached out to make sure I was doing well. One of my dear friends from church also reached out. Knowing they remembered meant so much to me.</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Now, I could give a ton of examples of how my friends have helped during my struggles. Just last week, one of them brought me and Madelle flowers when she heard we were sick. A bunch of friends have been checking in since I lost hearing last Monday. These people are amazing!</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The second part of the quote really makes me stop and think. “In the company of friends, we will find strength to attain our sublime ideal.” I looked in the dictionary to try to understand sublime better. “Of outstanding spiritual, intellectual, or moral worth. Tending to inspire awe usually because of elevated quality (as of beauty, nobility, or grandeur) or transcendent excellence.” What does St. Max mean by “sublime ideal?” Simply put, it means becoming a saint, getting each other to heaven.</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Wow, that is a tall order. Even here, I have a bunch of friends who do just that! I have to say though, helping a person get to heaven needs to be more than just smiling and saying hi when you see your friends at church. It is more than doing fun activities like barbecues or kayaking. Yes, you do need to do fun things; there is just more to do. Even more then praying for each other. We need to pray together. We need to learn together. We need to help each other with our spiritual life. How? Yep, I have examples.</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">When I retired from work in 2010, I was so blessed to finally have time for and find a women’s Bible Study group. This group was a true gift from God. We learned so much and prayed many prayers together. As time does, we drifted away, but God gave me two other groups. I am still with one of them. Every Wednesday, we meet at one of our houses and discuss our current book of study and pray. We challenge each other with different ways of seeing and understanding our faith. I treasure these evenings. Two years ago, I was blessed to be invited to a mother’s Rosary group. These friends challenge and teach me. I love it!!! Since I joined, I go to daily Mass. I am still not good at my consistency, but I go. I have also been going to Eucharistic Adoration. I am even on the schedule for every Thursday morning. The first Saturday of the month, a huge group of families drive out to a friend’s ranch. The evening begins with a prayer service. Afterwards, we enjoy fellowship over a potluck dinner. Amazing!!! And I am sure there are tons of other examples of ways we can help our friends to heaven.</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I am a firm believer in self analyzing, discerning my behavior. How good of a friend am I? If you were to ask my friends, because they are wonderful, they would probably say I am a good friend, maybe even great. But they are a lot like my mom saying I am beautiful. It counts, but I am sure there are areas to work on. I know many of the areas I could work on. </span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">One is that I talk too much at times and end up thinking afterwards that, “Geez, Lisa, the world doesn’t revolve around you!!!” Drives me nuts, but my mouth just won’t stop running away with me. If I were to bring it up to some of my friends, I am sure they would agree. Of course, a lot of times they are very gracious and forgiving. I do work on trying to listen more often and ask questions. Then I find myself telling my story. Gurr. Will I ever learn. God, please help me.</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">The other main flaw I have is communication. In fact, this is an area that I want to work on this year. My main issue is that of reaching out. I am not sure when it began. Probably in the college years, but it happened over and over. I find a friend who I want to spend time with. I invite them to this and that. The months go by and they don’t invite back or call back. Whether it is because they don’t like me, they are introverts, or they are just busy, I have let this close myself off to reaching out. Yes, I know all the ramifications for this behavior. In the end, it is just wrong.</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">About eight years ago, God placed in my life the most obnoxious neighbor. I say this with all love and sincerity. She knows what I mean. I had known her before this, but a beagle and a dachshund started our true friendship. We started walking our dogs every day during the work week. Now this lady calls, stops by, comes up with adventures, well, you name it, she epitomizes the St Max’s quote!!! She has helped me to call more. Well, call her, invite her…. I want to be like her when I grow up.</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">I have to also include two other friends. They are also good at reaching out and inviting. One of them I will be going to a concert with on Thursday. I hope the meds get me hearing again before then, but I will still go if she is game. It is the togetherness that is important. The other friend…well, she is the one who I go to lunch with after Mass. She also has me going to baseball games and well, the list is just too long. Yep, I have some great friends to relearn from.</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">So, this year, one of my goals is to reach out more. Even being sick most of this month, I have been able to go to coffee with an amazing lady. Yep, we prayed at the coffee shop and had a great conversation. I cheated once. I went to Mass for the purpose to see another friend. I know Jesus understands. I didn’t have her number, and I just had to check in with her. I now have her number because she took mine. I am a work in progress.</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">With my hearing mostly gone, I won’t be getting together much. However, I can check in with my friends via text or email. In fact, I need to go do just that. So, go out, be a St. Max kind of friend.</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Wow, I talked a lot again. (Shaking my head.) Blessing!</span></span></p><div><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div></span>Lisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14752403362095757217noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3183385979512765108.post-4837998436996388252023-01-14T14:07:00.002-07:002023-01-14T14:07:58.910-07:00Moodiness<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh_VPW-LpkbYbq-ZXh1cWaQh3uj55QThV_bxmXj7KUSAZRTX-mW5k3AXKDMNz_6hxgMLYC15yU7ckFXmSko1L7QJx5LGTEnvfgd_bfRRqBGI3ATvfZaZFUVoYKqGBaM9-lOo6W5IN2U7KifeEz2u7AY_YbRdQO592pSQADrmbB7MCSeez-4-F8cC29tgA" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="719" data-original-width="911" height="316" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh_VPW-LpkbYbq-ZXh1cWaQh3uj55QThV_bxmXj7KUSAZRTX-mW5k3AXKDMNz_6hxgMLYC15yU7ckFXmSko1L7QJx5LGTEnvfgd_bfRRqBGI3ATvfZaZFUVoYKqGBaM9-lOo6W5IN2U7KifeEz2u7AY_YbRdQO592pSQADrmbB7MCSeez-4-F8cC29tgA=w400-h316" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="color: #20124d; font-size: x-large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;">My mood has been precarious. First, I am excited and dreaming about the upcoming gardening season. Then, I am determined to be a good housewife and run around getting chores done. Finally, I turn so grumpy, and woe is me. So, what is the issue? Could it be menopause? I just realized that I haven’t had a hot flash in a long time. I also haven’t been taking Estroven for a long time. I can’t say it is that. I can say that not being able to hear is driving me nuts. (I have a double ear infection.) I should put that a different way. I can hear ringing and a low hum that fills my head. The droning on is driving me nuts.</span></span></span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="color: #20124d; font-family: Arial; font-size: x-large;"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;">I can’t talk to people unless they talk loudly. My poor daughter is so annoyed with me. Like I told my husband, she could never work with the old, hearing impaired. Yesterday, I had my son sit with me while I called the doctor to see what else I could do besides the meds. The first call went well when I told the receptionist that I couldn’t hear well. She spoke up. The return call would have been a nightmare without Clay. This new woman didn’t speak up when I told her I couldn’t hear. He listened to her go on and on until she had a question. If he knew the answer, he gave it, but if he didn’t, he repeated it so I could answer. Ugh. Today, I stopped in the drugstore quickly to get Afrin since the grocery store didn’t have it. I had Jerry stay in the truck. It was an in and out thing. No problem. Wrong! The cashier started chatting. I told her I couldn’t hear very well and didn’t know what she said. Took her by surprise. She probably thought I was contagious. Nope. I haven’t been contagious for two days. In fact, I feel really good. I just can’t hear a bloody thing!</span></span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="color: #20124d; font-size: x-large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I didn’t leave the house for three days. Granted, two of those days, I felt crummy. I also felt so very sad. I was supposed to do music for a four day retreat this weekend. I do this retreat every year, but I have never been a part of the music. I was sooooo excited. Yesterday, I thought of ways I might be able to help. How do you help when you can’t hear? Sure, I could have maybe helped in a “quiet” way, but I am still coughing. I really don’t want to make people uncomfortable with that. So, I have prayed for everyone working and attending the retreat. </span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="color: #20124d; font-family: Arial; font-size: x-large;"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;">I have to say, I am going a little batty not being able to hear music, people, and reading dialog on the television. Gurr!!! So, what is a good Christian to do when she is woe is me? You see, the woe is me attitude leads down the rabbit hole of why did God let me have all these health issues. I have fibromyalgia and rheumatoid arthritis. Frankly, I think I handle these two problems quite well. Just two things are simple. I have been battling nasal issues for three years. My smell is hit and miss, mainly miss. I am constantly calling or seeing a doctor to get more antibiotics. (This whole mess is due to me being stupid and staying with an incompetent doctor.) In fact, I am facing a third surgery this spring, different doctor in a different town! Now, He (God) had to add my ears? If my mood continues on this line, I list off all the terrible things that have happened in the last…, well, let's just say a long time.</span></span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="color: #20124d; font-size: x-large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;">Yep, I do the obvious. I pray. I read about faith. So many times, God chats with me through my study with a verse from the Bible that strikes a chord, or words of wisdom from a saint or contemporary writer. I always feel blessed when God helps me in this way. Sometimes, I grumble at God. I know, not nice. So, I will kick myself on the backside and get up to do some chores, thanking God that I can walk. Doing chores also helps. There is nothing like accomplishing a task when you feel terrible, both physically and mentally. When I hadn’t found the right meds for the RA, I would be so joyful when I only made the bed during a bad day.</span></span></span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="color: #20124d; font-size: x-large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Many times, I listen to music to cheer me up. Music can lift my spirits so quickly. But that is out of the question at the moment. For some reason, quilting isn’t helping. I think I am rather burnt out from the last couple of years. Gardening also does wonders for my mood. Hum, the snow is kind of messing with this coping devise. Ha, ha. I am doing the next best thing.</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: #20124d; font-size: x-large;">Two of my neighbors have chickens. I also have friends outside of the neighborhood who raise them for fresh eggs. We have been playing around with the idea of adding that to our life. Well, yesterday, I went out on my kindle and found a book about raising chickens. As I pursued the selection, these books about homesteading kept popping up. Hum, I will talk more about this topic later. I have decided, after checking out chicken coops at our local farming store, that we are definitely getting baby chicks this spring. I am so excited. Definitely helping with my moodiness. I wonder who the patron saint of chickens might be. Probably Saint Francis of Assisi.</span></span></p><p><span style="color: #20124d; font-size: x-large;"><span id="docs-internal-guid-9b68a65e-7fff-22f6-2e3d-0728cd1f75ac"></span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: #20124d; font-size: x-large;">Have a blessed day. And if you would like, I would take prays passed my way for my ears!!!</span></span></p>Lisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14752403362095757217noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3183385979512765108.post-49945769270703561702023-01-09T08:54:00.001-07:002023-01-09T08:56:55.329-07:00Trust in God<p><span style="font-size: large;"> <span style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial; text-align: center; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Nothing can happen to me that God doesn’t want. And all that He wants, no matter how bad it may appear to us, is really for the best.”</span></span></p><span id="docs-internal-guid-8c9aeea9-7fff-c7f3-3d54-9421de699ad2"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: right;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">-St. Thomas More</span></span></p><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The days last week were filled with sorrow and prayer, interspersed with putty, spackling, and paint. What a combination! I sit here this morning pondering Thomas’ quote. I think of his life, 2020, and last week. Oh, how we need to trust in God!</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Sir Thomas More was introduced to me in my twenties when I took British history in college. He worked for Henry XIII as an adviser. Thomas, a good Catholic, opposed the king’s desire for a divorce after the Pope said no. Thomas also opposed the split from the Catholic Church. King Henry ended up using Thomas as an example of why people shouldn’t oppose him. Thomas was imprisoned and later his head was chopped off for his “treason,” speaking truth and not following the party line. </span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">Fifteen years or so later, I learned Sir Thomas More is also known as Saint Thomas More. Because he died a Martyr for the faith, he is considered a saint in the Catholic Church. When I went to Reconciliation with Father Stu (yes, the one from the movie), my penance was to learn about Thomas. Years later, I visited where he is buried, very moving. </span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">I respect his courage of telling his king the truth with his life on the line. Anytime in prison, he could have recanted, but he stood by his beliefs. I can’t even ask a person to stop gossiping about my parish. Hum, that sentence came out of nowhere. I will have to ponder that for a later date. So, did God want Thomas to lose his head? Did Thomas want to lose his head? No on both accounts. Was it for the best that Thomas died prematurely? Of course not. God didn’t want Thomas to die. But God rejoiced in Thomas remaining steadfast in his faith, in truth, and his father in heaven.</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">How do we apply this to our life? My mom chose to end her life by starving. My son chose to marry a broken woman that led to his being killed by her pistol. God wants the best for me. In my heart, I know this to be truth. How can this be the best for me? God didn’t take the food from my mom. God didn’t pull the trigger. People did that. Broken people. The reason it happened to me is because they chose their path. I just happened to feel the aftershock.</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">So, how did I get the best in these bad situations? I could write a book about all the best that happened. In a simplified answer, the best was all the people who stood with me during the aftermath. Family and friends helped my sister and I in every way imaginable with my mom’s death. Mom’s house sold two days after going on the market, the biggest example of best. What a huge gift!!! The same happened with Michel’s death including a lawyer, detective, and mortician. (Okay, that sounds like the start of a good joke. Opps.) I wanted justice, revenge. God gave my heart what it truly needed. Closure and distance from evil. If that isn’t the best, I don’t know what is better.</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;">Last week, our community was rocked by a death that should not have happened. All my emotions from Michel bubbled up to the surface. They’re still bubbling. Will the sorrow ever end? Why does God allow this to happen? No, the sorrow won’t end. God doesn’t allow bad things to happen. He allows us to make our own decisions. People make bad things happen. So, I prayed. While I filled holes, textured, and painted our messed-up wall, I prayed for Michel and another young man. I prayed for the family and friends of both. I prayed for a generation that is crying out for truth. I prayed that God would give the best to the young man’s family as God did for us in our crisis.</span></span></span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">In the end, I trust in God. I pray.</span></span></p><div><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div></span>Lisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14752403362095757217noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3183385979512765108.post-82822197215425065392023-01-01T13:55:00.000-07:002023-01-01T13:55:02.279-07:00Looking for My Match<p><span style="font-size: large;"> <span style="text-align: center; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Be who God meant you to be and you will set the world on fire.”</span></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large; text-align: right; white-space: pre-wrap;"> St. Catherine of Siena</span></p><span id="docs-internal-guid-b050e8b6-7fff-6beb-cfae-6254febd8882"><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">I find this quote fitting for the beginning of a new year, especially this new year. For the past couple of years, I have been wondering who I am. For the last couple of weeks, I have been pondering my purpose in life. The last couple of years have shaken my belief in the world, my world. I have changed. I want to change more. Yet, I find I am still very much the person I was before life hit me upside the head to knock me on my backside.</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">Three years ago, I was a happy wife. I was a mother of three living children though estranged from one of them. I hoped for reconciliation. I was a fantasy writer. Though not perfect, life was good. I had written about eight books at this point. I was in the middle of number nine. I was scheduled for surgery to replace my hip. I could barely drive due to the pain. My mom was doing terrible. Mental illness had grabbed onto her and wasn’t letting go. I worried, but God would get me through.</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;">As 2020 progressed, Mom stopped eating and drinking. My surgery went great, but I couldn’t get into physical therapy. I finished books nine, ten, and eleven. Yep, ten books published, and one was being edited. I still couldn’t drive. I was being pulled in Mom’s direction, but how do you help someone who doesn’t want help? I was still raising an anxiety driven child. My life was unraveling.</span></span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;">No one</span></span><span style="font-size: large; white-space: pre-wrap;"> can help a person who doesn’t want help. Mom died. On her death certificate, they wrote suicide by starvation. June and July were all about the funeral and settling the estate. In July, I finally got into physical therapy. August, I rested as we began to look towards my husband deploying to Cuba. In September, my writing mentor turned against me because of a story I wrote. He lambasted everything I turned in for the rest of the writing class. With all the negativity and Jerry leaving, I just started quilting. Jerry left. I determined my mission was to get Madelle through her senior year, get through the deployment, and get through my mom’s huge stash of fabric.</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">My world exploded even more.</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">The baby with the biggest eyes who made me a mother was shot and killed at the end of November 2020. My munch, my bear, my Michel left this earth. The hope of reconciliation with him ended. I couldn’t save him. I lost him. I had failed. God let me down. I blamed Jerry. I blamed myself. My world ended. Jerry came home on emergency leave and left again. We are military. This is what we do.</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;">I pulled on my combat boots to face 2021. I wasn’t going to let this experience take me from the world permanently. The stubbornness kept me going. Madelle helped. Clay moved home to help even more. I bought kayaks. Jerry made it back only to leave again for a second deployment due to a promotion we couldn’t turn down. We are military. Yep, it is what we do. However, it took its toll.</span></span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">At the beginning of 2022, I had no idea who God wanted me to be. I thought He wanted me to be a writer, the mother of three living children, and a wife. Instead, I faced the coming year not being able to write, the mother of one dead child and two living, and a husband on the other side of the world. I sat at the sewing machine and lost myself in fabric. I went through the motions of going to all the church functions. I prayed. I searched. Summer came along and I ignored the kayaks. I ignored most things besides quilting and church. I occasionally went out into the garden. I did what was necessary. I was completely depressed. I fought on. I prayed more.</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;">Jerry came home in November. The depression lingered sporadically for the first couple of weeks. He and I left for an adventure. The depression melted away as the first flight took off leaving the Helena Valley behind us. I was finally able to run away from my life, from the explosions, even if only for a couple of weeks. We found ourselves on the vacation. Yes, I am a wife again!!! I am meant to be a wife.</span></span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;">Yet, I still am left with questions. What is my purpose? Who am I meant to be? What is my dream? I have never lived without a dream. Due to many things, I don’t see myself going back to fantasy writing. The dream died with everything that happened in 2020. This year, I will explore nonfiction writing. My words never have left. They waited patiently because I just couldn’t face the words until Jerry returned. He makes me stronger, and I have a feeling I will have to rely on his strength to get through the words that need written, if I find the courage. I will journal and blog. Maybe a different writing dream will take hold. Maybe not.</span></span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;">I have explored and discerned other options of purpose for my life. I have actually been dreaming some dreams from my childhood. I have made lists and mission statements. I know God means me to be his daughter. I love my relationship with Him. I am also meant to be a wife (my favorite purpose at the moment) and mom. I am working out what that means for Michel. I am learning to be a mom of grownups for Clay and Madelle. I will continue to quilt and garden. However, I just feel like God is calling me too more. I feel there is a bigger purpose. Maybe it is just a midlife crisis. </span></span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">All I know is I am willing to set the world on fire, I just need to find the match.</span></span></p><div><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div></span>Lisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14752403362095757217noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3183385979512765108.post-63123773823592539462021-11-27T05:57:00.000-07:002021-11-27T05:57:05.057-07:00Stained Glass Window<p> </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Life resembles a stained glass window. The majority of the events in life form the
design to fill with bright vivid colors.
Sunlight pours through the panes of the happy memories of the past on
display for all to see the joy of living.
The black edging of the metal work crawls through the design giving the
piece definition of the harshness of each circumstance. Harsh words spoken or negative emotions, the
taint of the human condition that creates shadow on the world. Occasionally, a storm hits the window exploding
chards of glass inward.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">For the past few months, I have been working on a
stained glass window quilt.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My mom
pieced the project together.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She started
hand quilting one block but never finished the project.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I puzzled over the quilting she did trying to
find a way to continue using the sewing machine.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The blanket is lap sized.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Not horribly bulky to work on the machine if
I was to do a straight stitch the length of the quilt but I would have needed
to twist and turn the blanket in all direction every three to four inches.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Plus, the stitch would have been off too
much.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I grumbled, a lot!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But, I picked up a needle and thread and
began hand stitching.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">I found a rhythm.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I learned thread types matter.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
broke an embroidery hoop.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I prayed for
hours as I stitched.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I watched a lot of
television and listened to music.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
began enjoying the task.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My stitches
became better, not great, but better.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
tweaked my mother's design to fit my needs; though hers is the better.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Mine is the done.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Near the end, I changed.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">My mother and I have always had a rocky relationship,
oil and water.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I could carry on for
hours with stories.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I could drone on
about how I felt about her, especially in the end.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The last ten years were terrible.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Amazingly enough, the last five became even
worse.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At the end, I was relieved when
the drama ended.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I only cried once and
that was out of anger that she couldn't love my sister and I enough to enjoy
us, enjoy life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I didn't miss her at all
until a few days ago.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">I am not sure what changed or why.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It probably has to do with the bloody stained
glass window quilt, all those hours I felt her watching over my shoulder
criticizing me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I know she would not
like the way I did the quilt or my stitching.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I am not the perfectionist she was.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>However, I found myself missing our good talks on the phone.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Me calling to tell her what I had been up
to.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Discussing quilting or
gardening.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I didn't/don't want to miss
her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My husband says it is because I
want to hold onto the anger.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
disagree.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I don't like being angry.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I think missing her hurts to much.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I don't want to hurt for her because of all
the black running through our relationship.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Much of it was an ugly tar that covered the glass that could have been
so beautiful.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">I even hand sewed on the back of the binding.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>More black.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Michel.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Shattered chards of glass
laying on the floor.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As I continued to
stitch on Thanksgiving, his favorite holiday, I reflected on my emotional
health.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had prepped myself for the possibility
of being depressed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>From the time he
knew what a feast was, he loved Thanksgiving.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The memories made me smile, not become sad.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>However, sad I was.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">I miss my husband.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Last year, he was in Fort Bliss getting ready to deploy to Cuba.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This year he is in Fort Bliss again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He is getting ready to deploy to the Middle
East this time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In the past year and a
month, I have seen him a total of three and a half months.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yes, I am sad.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And as I stitched away, I realized this
sadness is the black metal of my stained glass window.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I could dwell on the black until no sunlight
spilled through the panes of glass, or I could give the black a respectful nod
and continue with my day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I continued
the day by stitching and cooking.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Today marks the day my son's life was taken from him,
from us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The situation will always cause
me to have some anger sliding along the black metal.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The panes of glass from his last six years on
earth are dark.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am thankful that most
of my days in the last six months have lost the darkness of mourning.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yes, I have bad moments.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His birthday was a hard day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It began as black as night.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I prayed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I baked his favorite cookies to take to school, peanut butter with
chocolate chips.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The memories of his
childhood brought a happy smile to my face, the sunlight filtered through
casting a rainbow of colors in the air.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">This holiday season I could easily keep my eyes on the
metal.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I could dwell on the anger of
Michel's death or the gaping hole of my husband being gone for another year or
the state of the world.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Instead, I am
going to be thankful for all my blessings.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I have tons of happy memories with Michel.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have a loving husband who is providing for
us and keeping the world a safer place to live.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I have two amazing kids who are standing by me in this crazy life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Friends and family abound.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Projects literally are spilling out of my
craft/writing room.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Okay, they are also
in my bedroom closet and garage.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Uff da.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Life is a blessing.
My stained glass window is far from complete. I plan on adding many more panes to the
project. I know more metal has to be
added. I fear the metal. I try not to panic, but at the moment, the
uncertainty of life is a prevalent part of my human condition. I say a prayer and move from the darkness
that tries to dull the colors. I
concentrate on the blessings. The joy of
my faith keeps the light pushing through to shine on me.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgs6DY6k9P3FO2NvzD3tDEb0utK0rDL4vfpcZuF5SCzA4d8Aap7hJxcVM-eVlv9E3IfT_u-DvWyvPLkGjDk68ZTR0ZhKf3sJwmhD7dY1Kzq2pH58cGGqgNHp6AO-tFPhieCZQLYkA3moW7T/s1280/Stained+Glass+Window.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="576" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgs6DY6k9P3FO2NvzD3tDEb0utK0rDL4vfpcZuF5SCzA4d8Aap7hJxcVM-eVlv9E3IfT_u-DvWyvPLkGjDk68ZTR0ZhKf3sJwmhD7dY1Kzq2pH58cGGqgNHp6AO-tFPhieCZQLYkA3moW7T/w288-h640/Stained+Glass+Window.jpg" width="288" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;"><br /></span><p></p>Lisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14752403362095757217noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3183385979512765108.post-70344355844566361062021-06-16T07:55:00.004-06:002021-06-16T07:57:45.035-06:00The Cabin<p> I am writing this post with my cellphone sitting in a cabin in the woods. Since my son died, I only have felt like writing when I am quilting or gardening. Once I leave the task, I loose my words. Today the words remain.</p><p>I gave changed. I will never be the same person I was before that terrible night November 27, 2020. Quite frankly, I don't know who I am or will become. To find myself, I have retreated into my faith, quilting, and gardening. I have kept the world at bay. I do simple social outings with positive friends and family. I have tried to avoid news of any sort. I would love to hide completely in a cabin in the woods, but I know that isn't completely healthy.</p><p>I want to write my story eventually. This fall I might begin or next week? Who knows? Time. Time and healing in a quiet life is my goal. Of course, I feel the world coming closer as I become stronger. </p><p>I love adventures. Last year tested that love. I feel the entire year was an adventure in the worst of humankind, including the suicide of my mother and the murder of my son. Yes, I said murder. Nothing was proven, but my mother's heart knows. This "adventure " I pray never happens again. </p><p>The adventure of healing took many turns and still does. I am adding the adventure of finding the new me, and I am enjoying the ride. I have reaffirmed my relationship with God. I have witnesses my strength. I have clawed my way in courage to stay connected to people in my community when in the darkest moments I didn't want to leave my bedroom. I am still a soldier, warrior, valkyrie. </p><p>Unless I have a major shift in myself, this summer I have dedicated to nature and fun. I am spending as much time outside as possible either gardening, painting, hiking, or kayaking. Of course, fire season may make it difficult, but time will tell. Basically, I will fill my days with faith, hope, and love.</p><p>I won't be giving up my writing. I just don't know where I am going with this love of mine. Again, time and healing will reveal the outcome with God pointing the way.</p><p>Blessings. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQbUKJ8JFjJ4LViO_QLN7-EP3LtSqo21JlU8uBoQqOgR20wWQCyVcwkmJ1w9ruv1t5Jpwx2Xt8-i_z5a0WZPgoswIOTNEL25ZoAm89flXiMFrpOn9WMnEYGN7ikSUf0uMo7kK05U1MIx8F/s2642/16238516824175559904094295665006.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2642" data-original-width="1190" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQbUKJ8JFjJ4LViO_QLN7-EP3LtSqo21JlU8uBoQqOgR20wWQCyVcwkmJ1w9ruv1t5Jpwx2Xt8-i_z5a0WZPgoswIOTNEL25ZoAm89flXiMFrpOn9WMnEYGN7ikSUf0uMo7kK05U1MIx8F/w288-h640/16238516824175559904094295665006.jpg" width="288" /></a></div><br /><p></p>Lisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14752403362095757217noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3183385979512765108.post-50076004745470514532021-02-22T11:03:00.002-07:002021-02-22T11:03:56.486-07:00Changing Focus<p><span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-size: x-large;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-size: x-large;">I feel so much joy
this morning.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The clouds sweep through
the valley with a purpose leaving a beautiful blue sky.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The temperature sores upward to dance in the
forties.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The essence of who I am is
changing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How can it not after losing a
son?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have been told I will never be
the same since Michel died.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But who am I
going to let myself become?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In December,
I felt I would be angry for life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>January brought the inevitable sadness.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I don’t want either of those things to be with me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>February has been a roller-coaster but mainly
depression.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-size: x-large;">This past week, I
thought about meaning and legacy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Since
about September, I have been working at finishing my mother’s legacy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I dived deeper to runaway from my grief once
Michel died.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I got a little angry that I
was spending all this time finishing my mom’s stuff.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I need to be me, not her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So, while I thought, I worked on a project
that I started years ago.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I don’t know
what it was going to be, so I decided on a baby blanket.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At the same time, I worked on one of her
projects because I can’t waste all the material and half-finished things.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I can turn them into something.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That IS who I am.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-size: x-large;">Of course, I also
thought of Michel.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Where is my
relationship with him?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have my mom in
the quilting.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have my dad in
gardening, fishing, and the outdoors.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
have my father-in-law in my birdwatching.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>What do I have with Michel?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-size: x-large;">My emotions have
been too big to face alone; yet, I haven’t wanted to burden my family and
friends.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I know, I know.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They all want to help, but I didn’t want
skewed thoughts from others who have their opinions of me and the situation.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I wanted someone outside of the circle.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>COVID has made that very difficult.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Two weeks ago, I saw the clinic’s therapist
who gave me a name of a therapist seeing people in person.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Because of both these amazing ladies, I have
been able to open the well of feelings.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>On Friday, my new, permanent therapist gave me the safety net to explore
my life as a mother to Michel.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For now,
I am feeling better.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am sure I will
have some relapses, but right now I am good.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Tired, but good.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-size: x-large;">While in my deep despair,
I thought I would quilt for the rest of my life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Hiding in my quilting room felt safe.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now, I have been going out and about.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I knew and know I need to go through the
motions.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have been so busy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Everyday I have something to do with friends
and family.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I know they have been
helping me immensely.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have my stitch
group, art people, sushi gang, game night kids, Bible study sisters, and my
partner in crime who lives in the neighborhood.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I am so very blessed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In the last
two days though, I am getting ready to leave the quilt room.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-size: x-large;">No, I am not going
far.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In fact, I am only turning my chair
around and moving it a few inches to the computer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have started journaling again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am going to start working on my memories
and other grief related ideas.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am
excited because it feels good.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It feels
heathy to be back in front of the page.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-size: x-large;">I knew I would
leave the room for gardening, but I am leaving the room next week.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Okay, I will if my surgery goes well
tomorrow.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have to go in for a
biopsy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If I have healed enough, I am
going to tear apart the pantry.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The plan
is to declutter, clean, and paint.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After
that, I am going to tackle the living room entertainment area if the pantry
goes well.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If not, I will hire it
done.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>By the end of March, those areas
are going to look good so I can rest with that and hit the gardens, weather permitting.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-size: x-large;">Yes, I will
continue to quilt.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My goal for the year
is to finish up a total of 36 projects.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I have accomplished eleven.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I may
not make the 36, but even with just the eleven, I have put a dent in the
piles.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I do love the quilting.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I just don’t want to stay in the quilt room
quite as much.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My focus needs to change.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I need to find the new me.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-size: x-large;">Here are the two projects
I worked on last week. I still have more
sashing to go, quilting, and the border.
I may or may not get them finished up this coming week or two. I will definitely post them when I do. </span><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTTv7rofBuVyTZ4Ll8bw_INEhtN-zxM_VJRzUPFW8RAmr9zcoMoISlgiRrjGVC5SBJ_aTtAR9EVN53zowd3AJydyt7oh54qulGmzI5YwVLiG_mCa2sFiX3XRyCiwXMQbahoOs6oMzaQ3bu/s1280/Quilt+Tops.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="576" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTTv7rofBuVyTZ4Ll8bw_INEhtN-zxM_VJRzUPFW8RAmr9zcoMoISlgiRrjGVC5SBJ_aTtAR9EVN53zowd3AJydyt7oh54qulGmzI5YwVLiG_mCa2sFiX3XRyCiwXMQbahoOs6oMzaQ3bu/w288-h640/Quilt+Tops.jpg" width="288" /></a></div><br /><span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span><p></p>Lisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14752403362095757217noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3183385979512765108.post-86323860727447348202021-02-15T08:59:00.000-07:002021-02-15T08:59:07.696-07:00Green<p><span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-size: x-large;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 8.0pt; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-size: x-large;">Green
was the theme.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 8.0pt; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-size: x-large;">Last
week, I enjoyed finishing up a quilt that I designed from a picture on
Pinterest that I found.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I struggled with
the green fabric.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I need to go look at
the bolt to see what type of cotton blend it is and compare it to other
fabrics.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I might be avoiding that type
in the future.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The rest of the fabric
came from Mom’s stash of strips of fabric.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I still really haven’t put a dent in that pile.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Luckily, I have found other Pinterest
pictures to inspire me with other quilts.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 8.0pt; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><o:p><span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-size: x-large;"> </span></o:p></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-size: x-large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPdObmmSEI8spaoKgYLekcDJ75Ai2gAZ9HXk0-yeu-CTM_XSvYq73aet7OT8ucSd2PBiUQ4AKVGp0QPKIZYJrQvmSnF6P6oSZbBJwN5QG9uxvsxMWs_zeATZWW3DNuWOQzZFyRWhNgqrIa/s1280/Green+Strip.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="720" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPdObmmSEI8spaoKgYLekcDJ75Ai2gAZ9HXk0-yeu-CTM_XSvYq73aet7OT8ucSd2PBiUQ4AKVGp0QPKIZYJrQvmSnF6P6oSZbBJwN5QG9uxvsxMWs_zeATZWW3DNuWOQzZFyRWhNgqrIa/w360-h640/Green+Strip.jpg" width="360" /></a></span></div><span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 8.0pt; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-size: x-large;">When
I found the top of my next quilting project, I was excited.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The shamrock material and St. Patrick’s Day
theme convinced me that Mom was working on this for Kim.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I debated trying my hand at appliqué with the
left over fabric I packed with the quilt face.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I worried thought that I would ruin the piece.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I found felt shamrocks.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I started sewing one onto the white block,
but I hated the cheap look to the shamrock.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>So, I played with stitching a shamrock.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>It worked!!!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I loved the way it turned
out.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My sister also likes it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yay!!!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I will send it to her later this month.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 8.0pt; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><o:p><span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-size: x-large;"> </span></o:p></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-size: x-large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiW3R60VRO_eIzd9TNdcx_oJ4DJk1yXLolv60x9HJUr0cUwxS82BbhSIY9WWXjeBodzXmle0p4wP48XW1l0yvwZjjDL3kdXuYMFLrzNkH_WZuajWncRtfCNC2QEoZ3VDiKvsMytxv1BKp_P/s1280/Shamrock+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="576" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiW3R60VRO_eIzd9TNdcx_oJ4DJk1yXLolv60x9HJUr0cUwxS82BbhSIY9WWXjeBodzXmle0p4wP48XW1l0yvwZjjDL3kdXuYMFLrzNkH_WZuajWncRtfCNC2QEoZ3VDiKvsMytxv1BKp_P/w288-h640/Shamrock+2.jpg" width="288" /></a></span></div><span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-size: x-large;"><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwbQdopnVlkKp9LS-h3etpb984iP7Sip9euYrxlpheCh-kRZQWF2XM_CLfO3EImZX9UI_Qdo0-mMHLv25C9odW3SJHPcDStEUpODS6Fl66LRN15J5u8Rxlh3-a-9r-SRAR5_e-sHTOxL-G/s635/Shamrock+1+%25282%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="285" data-original-width="635" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwbQdopnVlkKp9LS-h3etpb984iP7Sip9euYrxlpheCh-kRZQWF2XM_CLfO3EImZX9UI_Qdo0-mMHLv25C9odW3SJHPcDStEUpODS6Fl66LRN15J5u8Rxlh3-a-9r-SRAR5_e-sHTOxL-G/w400-h180/Shamrock+1+%25282%2529.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 8.0pt; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-size: x-large;">This
week begins Lent. I have a bunch of
projects I want to do for our ministry at church, but I also want to hit Mom’s
piles. I am not sure I will get anything
completed this week, but I will be busy sewing and crocheting for the ministry
and Mom.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p>Lisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14752403362095757217noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3183385979512765108.post-28706474291949238992021-02-01T14:23:00.000-07:002021-02-01T14:23:12.420-07:00Wall Hangings<p><span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-size: x-large;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 8.0pt; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-size: x-large;">My
blog seems to have morphed into a quilting blog instead of a hodge podge of all
my interests.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I guess that is to be
expected due to the nature of my life at the moment.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Last week as I quilted away, I experienced
sadness and uncertainty.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I struggled
with the loss of my son and faced a biopsy which I will know more about later
this month.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The ups and downs of life
are difficult but seem even more so during the winter months.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 8.0pt; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-size: x-large;">I
am excited February arrived.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am not a
fan of this month, but it shows that January is behind me and spring is that
much closer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am already excited about
gardening season and warm weather.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Alas,
I continue to fill my days with my mom’s project.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 8.0pt; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-size: x-large;">This
last week, I worked on two of her wall hangings.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The only thing left on both of them was a
little bit of quilting, blocking, and the binding, simple in many ways.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I still had a little to learn.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 8.0pt; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-size: x-large;">My
mom must have loved to hand sew.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am
not a fan. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When I pulled out both of
these projects, I groaned when I saw the hand sewing needles with thread
attached to the material.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She was hand
quilting both projects.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I might
eventually do some hand quilting, but with all the work there is to do, I prefer
fast and machine quilting.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I started
with the Christmas wall hanging.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The
middle block was almost done.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Just one
small section needed to be hand stippled.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I did that up quickly to finish the block.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 8.0pt; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-size: x-large;">I
turned to the top and bottom blocks.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She
had used a pencil to draw where she wanted all the stitching to be done.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>On the top, she had crisscrossed lines.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Easy enough.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I finished that up in no time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>On
the bottom block, she wanted parallel lines around the design, but stippling up
close to the design. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The lines were no
problem, but I didn’t want to do all that stippling by hand.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Really, I think it would have been
silly.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Her machine does that stitch in
two different ways.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 8.0pt; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-size: x-large;">I
grabbed some throw away fabric to practice on.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The machine stitch was terrible!!!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>No wonder she didn’t use this programmed stitch.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I hated it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Now, over eighteen years ago, I tried stippling with a free motion foot
on my machine that I had at the time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
grabbed Mom’s free motion foot, switched the feet, and played.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The process came back like I did it
yesterday.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I took a deep breath.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The first area went without a hitch.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Within about thirty minutes, I finished up
the quilting.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yay.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now, I can see an issue or two in my work,
but nothing that most people would notice.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I blocked the piece and put on the binding.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am pretty happy with the results.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Oh, I had to hand wash the lines off the
material where my mom drew because they could be seen.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 8.0pt; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><o:p><span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-size: x-large;"> </span></o:p></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-size: x-large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitN1vUm7TBqvXXizaTcNKD14C2IW2YC6EYEUfrX0X6icdR199FKzTuveAfgHVGEWKx1ORm9tyTlni5g2QGDOYiDNbXn4wFud6eUn7LLBSYINY3IlQNxJ51cQFuLC8QqjNz095WtF5wOD49/s1280/Xmas+Tree.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="576" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitN1vUm7TBqvXXizaTcNKD14C2IW2YC6EYEUfrX0X6icdR199FKzTuveAfgHVGEWKx1ORm9tyTlni5g2QGDOYiDNbXn4wFud6eUn7LLBSYINY3IlQNxJ51cQFuLC8QqjNz095WtF5wOD49/w288-h640/Xmas+Tree.jpg" width="288" /></a></span></div><span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 8.0pt; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-size: x-large;">The
next project, I am sure Mom would be annoyed with how I finished it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>On the right and bottom, she chalked where
she wanted to put the word WELCOME on the hanging.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am sure she planned to appliqué the letters.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am not ready to get to appliqué.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Besides, I think I want to keep this piece
and didn’t want the words on the piece. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When I blocked the project, I just cut off the
extra fabric.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I also had to wash off the
markings.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 8.0pt; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><o:p><span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-size: x-large;"> <br /></span></o:p></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-size: x-large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9_TYEOTxB0rnWUf0F3AdO55U5or1wz4qDwXJ55z6GYu9ld1RtrbTLCKXwSxx-GG0yXDAT53IvdsAqEh6g2coRRK0e7NcPC34x8PQmuJBaGQs01RPYeNh6TTDnyWXPZ58fINDTpMR_VNeB/s1280/Birdhouse+Runa.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="960" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9_TYEOTxB0rnWUf0F3AdO55U5or1wz4qDwXJ55z6GYu9ld1RtrbTLCKXwSxx-GG0yXDAT53IvdsAqEh6g2coRRK0e7NcPC34x8PQmuJBaGQs01RPYeNh6TTDnyWXPZ58fINDTpMR_VNeB/w480-h640/Birdhouse+Runa.jpg" width="480" /></a></span></div><span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinMO7B4v9d5drnDuJHRPD4oTC4UlEE0coXhLge5mmo_HMyzz6D8CNCs8sxVVgeF2Xsk6VAH5mdoILIpJTexWRZb0jAshgOvTNU6_TbhRGteNkcgIO-80TWdfSBUcq1AByeSSPLaDmzUZQt/s1280/Birdhouse.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="576" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinMO7B4v9d5drnDuJHRPD4oTC4UlEE0coXhLge5mmo_HMyzz6D8CNCs8sxVVgeF2Xsk6VAH5mdoILIpJTexWRZb0jAshgOvTNU6_TbhRGteNkcgIO-80TWdfSBUcq1AByeSSPLaDmzUZQt/w288-h640/Birdhouse.jpg" width="288" /></a></div><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 8.0pt; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-size: x-large;">All
in all, I am happy with both projects. I
relearned stippling. I continue to
marvel at how I approach sewing so differently than Mom. Also, I prefer pins over stitches. With the before picture of the birdhouse, the
stitches to hold the front, middle, and back of the stitch had to be cleaned
up. I prefer using the quilting pins
instead. Of course, I have been quilting
for less than a year. Maybe when I hit
Mom’s status, I will be doing this stitching thing too.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p>Lisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14752403362095757217noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3183385979512765108.post-52926240277759982812021-01-25T08:02:00.000-07:002021-01-25T08:02:27.975-07:00The Beast<p><span style="font-size: x-large;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: xx-large; text-indent: 0.5in;">Life
contains beasts in our lives.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: xx-large; text-indent: 0.5in;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: xx-large; text-indent: 0.5in;">Feelings,
situations, and objects in our life that hold difficulty.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: xx-large; text-indent: 0.5in;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: xx-large; text-indent: 0.5in;">I have a number of them circling around
me.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: xx-large; text-indent: 0.5in;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: xx-large; text-indent: 0.5in;">One beast obviously is the beast of
mourning my son.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: xx-large; text-indent: 0.5in;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: xx-large; text-indent: 0.5in;">This beast and a few
others I am not ready to discuss.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: xx-large; text-indent: 0.5in;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: xx-large; text-indent: 0.5in;">Feelings
and situations are tough to talk about; I will leave those for another
day.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: xx-large; text-indent: 0.5in;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: xx-large; text-indent: 0.5in;">Instead, I will talk about an
object.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 8.0pt; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">When
my mother died, she left <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>four sewing
machines.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A friend asked for her ancient
machine which I was happy to give to her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>One we put in the rummage sale.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>No one bought it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My cousin asked
about it, so I gave it to her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The
machine was almost ancient.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The other
two I kept for myself.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The first, an
inexpensive, lightweight Singer, is the machine I have been using for the past
couple of months.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There are no bells and
whistles on this machine, straightforward and very simple.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The last machine, well let’s just say, I have
been avoiding the beast.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>One look at the
price tag scared the crap out of me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>This thing has a computer in it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Uff da.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 8.0pt; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><o:p><span style="font-size: x-large;"> </span></o:p></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPIA6YRLe4ZzgQUl072y5c2KeQtYxm7HiB_LL2lH_IDZv_JPq61U5Fahm0jXpL8g-dgTfH-JUAVyaoP_uz3yVmKrGZ02laM2GMI89AFt5OpmKn2C6UXpn9xG0GwFriKHo0x3lDfioFjvgC/s1280/The+Beast.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="576" data-original-width="1280" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPIA6YRLe4ZzgQUl072y5c2KeQtYxm7HiB_LL2lH_IDZv_JPq61U5Fahm0jXpL8g-dgTfH-JUAVyaoP_uz3yVmKrGZ02laM2GMI89AFt5OpmKn2C6UXpn9xG0GwFriKHo0x3lDfioFjvgC/w400-h180/The+Beast.jpg" width="400" /></a></span></div><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 8.0pt; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">In
November, I brought the beast out of the closet to look at and
contemplate.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When Michel died, I put it
back in the writing room to get it out of the way of all the company that came
in waves.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Well, two weeks ago, my left
arm ached when I woke up.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Tying knots in
quilts flared my autoimmune issues.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
needed to rest for a day and not tie so many knots.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The time off from projects was the perfect opportunity
to learn about the machine.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 8.0pt; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">I
couldn’t find many YouTube videos about the Elna Pro Quilter’s Dream.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>One woman did have a video on her regular
Elna that gave me the courage to turn mine on.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I grabbed the instruction manual and took a good thirty minutes just
figuring out all the feet for the bloody beast.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Finally, I grabbed some strips of fabric and began sewing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Oh, what a dream!!!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The fabric stays straight.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There is a speed control on the foot
pedal.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Amazing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I hummed away for a good couple of days just
sewing fabric together.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 8.0pt; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">This
last week, I became braver.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I started
playing with the embroidery options.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
grabbed the first quilt square I ever sewed and decided to quilt that into a
wall hanging on the beast.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What
fun.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I programmed the machine to sew
little flowers.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I also used one of the
vine leaf options to put a little more detail into the project.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had fun.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 8.0pt; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><o:p><span style="font-size: x-large;"> </span></o:p></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcTvILf4XEQ8LmZvWvV43mIvxlo3rOWiyrzxsHstHKC798UNaWMDXVRydWqukT7O2Uuwf7xoWaoKhsfnFtzvBJVJUR7KRWXXpH7m3HfnHj3MHvQ7fyd1y_siPm6Fx_DPkA_B7vgSDTAGFG/s1280/Vines.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="576" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcTvILf4XEQ8LmZvWvV43mIvxlo3rOWiyrzxsHstHKC798UNaWMDXVRydWqukT7O2Uuwf7xoWaoKhsfnFtzvBJVJUR7KRWXXpH7m3HfnHj3MHvQ7fyd1y_siPm6Fx_DPkA_B7vgSDTAGFG/w180-h400/Vines.jpg" width="180" /></a></span></div><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2usSzoT9_HJzc3IFSzbPi1J2l-16Fy1d9UwqQ_MNz5u01teFWrJVgJ_JClq1eLaGOY_CS_GGe-FbNkSfwEkV5Nt4r_U8PTq0P26yeggUx6pVuoVPczM0On4bcuRETNSu7Rnowo61GlgE_/s1295/Flower.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1295" data-original-width="583" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2usSzoT9_HJzc3IFSzbPi1J2l-16Fy1d9UwqQ_MNz5u01teFWrJVgJ_JClq1eLaGOY_CS_GGe-FbNkSfwEkV5Nt4r_U8PTq0P26yeggUx6pVuoVPczM0On4bcuRETNSu7Rnowo61GlgE_/w180-h400/Flower.jpg" width="180" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWUkBZNieuvsGmBQJm1o6GFd4kUPmR-g9rTifis6C3Q3yo4nKbO3BAQc9hpH_YKOBxhn8BvoAPlvS2gknTDBwcBbve89-Orcjx0XGBAVqQnAvx2WnTBrbkahAVcALVMXulLvU732SQG2ZM/s1280/First+Block.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="576" data-original-width="1280" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWUkBZNieuvsGmBQJm1o6GFd4kUPmR-g9rTifis6C3Q3yo4nKbO3BAQc9hpH_YKOBxhn8BvoAPlvS2gknTDBwcBbve89-Orcjx0XGBAVqQnAvx2WnTBrbkahAVcALVMXulLvU732SQG2ZM/w400-h180/First+Block.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 8.0pt; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Now,
to use up all of Mom’s pieces and parts, I have a lot of big quilts that I will
need to either quilt or tie.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I like the
tying options for a lot of reasons.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>First, the distance between the knots keeps the quilt fluffy instead of
stiff.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Also, trying to maneuver all that
fabric around in a sewing machine is complicated and bulky.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If I go to a long arm shop, I will be
spending a lot of money to rent a machine.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I mean, I don’t mind on a special project, but the majority of what I
will be doing is scrap quilts.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I needed
a solution.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I found one.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>On my second twin block quilt, I embroidered
little designs where I would have put a knot.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I made a few mistakes and I chose a design that went crazy from time to
time, but I like the results just the same.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span><o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 8.0pt; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><o:p><span style="font-size: x-large;"> </span></o:p></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiz5OkklU09HLUgKhz_VxpLj5b-vG3IgJCXLxcpnsN19lMl_Alu_PUKb__ui9CC6BktMq-u-x26r5swlvd_xqwBCZWhcp78igUzCxqXCxhZPcHSGH_6hwOdmX9rJEOWnukWTV8-An2m5Svr/s1295/Twin+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1295" data-original-width="583" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiz5OkklU09HLUgKhz_VxpLj5b-vG3IgJCXLxcpnsN19lMl_Alu_PUKb__ui9CC6BktMq-u-x26r5swlvd_xqwBCZWhcp78igUzCxqXCxhZPcHSGH_6hwOdmX9rJEOWnukWTV8-An2m5Svr/w180-h400/Twin+2.jpg" width="180" /></a></span></div><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 8.0pt; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">I
will continue to work on this technique along with the stitch in the ditch on
strip quilts. I learned a lot in the
last two weeks about the beast. I have a
bunch more to learn, but we have begun the taming process. I am excited to continue with all the
projects set before me. Together the
beast and I will carry on a long family tradition. Well, at least I know Grandma Nixon, Jerry’s Grandma
Richard, Aunt Ellen, and Mom have done quilting. I will continue. </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p>Lisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14752403362095757217noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3183385979512765108.post-68116083119404773052021-01-18T06:50:00.002-07:002021-01-18T06:50:57.353-07:00Experience<p><span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-size: x-large;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 8.0pt; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-size: x-large;">Over
the weekend, I met with two friends.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As
we were talking, I about quilting, one of them asked about my experience at
quilting.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She was wondering how I could
just jump into all these projects of my mom’s and get stuff done so
quickly.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I told her in some instances
most of the work was already done.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
laughed when she gave me her look.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She
tends to think I don’t give myself enough credit.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That might be a discussion for another day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At any rate, I realized I probably hadn’t
mentioned my past experience here in the blog.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 8.0pt; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-size: x-large;">I
don’t remember my mother even not having a sewing project.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She may not have sat down to the sewing
machine for days on end or finished a project on time, but she had projects
galore.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When I was little, she didn’t
have the patience to teach me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In junior
high, our home economics teacher taught a unit in sewing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was so excited.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We went to the Eureka Mercantile to pick out
fabric and a pattern for a simple blouse.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I chose a flowered lavender print.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The fun ended there.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 8.0pt; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-size: x-large;">The
teacher taught me one way of sewing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Then my mother would rant and rave about the terrible techniques and made
me fix everything.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>By the time I
finished that project, I hated it with a passion.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I also hated sewing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I went back to being a daddy’s girl and
chopped wood.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I didn’t take another
sewing class in school.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was never
going to be a sewer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Kind of funny when
I look back at the whole situation.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 8.0pt; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-size: x-large;">Moving
forward, I believe my mother-in-law gave me her old machine when the boys were
little.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was interested in
quilting.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I loved the artistry of
quilting.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I love shapes and colors.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I went home the next summer and my mom taught
me the basic fundamentals of sewing a straight line and cutting fabric.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am not sure what year this was, but I do
know that when we moved to Helena, I did start sewing with a purpose.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 8.0pt; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-size: x-large;">From
about 1998 to 2002, I sewed when I had time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Of course, being a mom of two busy boys, working fulltime, and Guard
weekends, I didn’t have a lot of time, but I would spend an entire weekend here
and there doing nothing but sewing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
loved it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The problem is I never learned
how to finish a quilt.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I also didn’t
learn how to do the quilting part to any real extent.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I played with a little free motion stitching
and stitch in a ditch on scraps.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In
2001, my sister-in-law was expecting her first baby.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was so excited.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A baby quilt was the exact thing I needed to
learn how to do everything.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The quilt is
in my closet only partially done.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Little
Eric only lived for a few minutes after being born early.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Soon after that, I found myself
expecting.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I gave my sewing room to
Madelle and packed everything away until this past summer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had accomplished one quilt face, numerous
quilt blocks, a millennial quilt kit, and Eric’s unfinished quilt.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That was it.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 8.0pt; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-size: x-large;">Once
I learned how to put on a binding and knot a quilt on Youtube this summer, I
was able to fly with all of the projects.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Of course, the learning curve took me a bit through September.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Once I finished my first quilt, I have quite
a lot of confidence in the simple quilting.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I don’t know how long it would take me to have to cut fabric into the
right pieces and do an entire quilt from start to finish.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I do know that with Mom’s cut fabric and all
the work she has done on so many, for this first little while, I will be able
to get projects done rather quickly.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Well, until spring when I spend a lot of time playing outside.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 8.0pt; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-size: x-large;">So
that is my experience and background. And here is my next finished
project.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I found 50 sewn blocks in Mom’s
stash.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I laid them out on the bed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>To use all 50, the quilt would have been
enormous.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Instead, I decided to make two
lap quilts out of the blocks.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Here is
the first one.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I tied the quilt, so it
went rather quickly.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I will do a
different technique on the second one and discuss that when it is finished.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 8.0pt; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><o:p><span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-size: x-large;"> </span></o:p></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-size: x-large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKfvgW3yRYQYWzit_F5kpjdlhofCypjpjhy6sOaj7_flQOj58A2EX4ghbQLGLtUUF1m6hEhDca90MiKNAAIDbLdL45cZLCvnXVt2yx9qj55hxAHSaM0bWNbm0l7V0Xyeq9oNTCQwMv7UTj/s1103/Twin+Quilt+%25231+%25282%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1103" data-original-width="496" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKfvgW3yRYQYWzit_F5kpjdlhofCypjpjhy6sOaj7_flQOj58A2EX4ghbQLGLtUUF1m6hEhDca90MiKNAAIDbLdL45cZLCvnXVt2yx9qj55hxAHSaM0bWNbm0l7V0Xyeq9oNTCQwMv7UTj/w288-h640/Twin+Quilt+%25231+%25282%2529.jpg" width="288" /></a></span></div><span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 8.0pt; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-size: x-large;">I
am also excited that I have accomplished my list for January. I was hoping to get two wall hangings and two
quilts done. Yay, I did it. Anything else I accomplish will be binding on
the quilt.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p>Lisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14752403362095757217noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3183385979512765108.post-33036190392406238472021-01-14T06:22:00.001-07:002021-01-14T06:22:02.086-07:00A Map of Misadventures<p><span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-size: x-large;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div><span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-size: x-large;"><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjj5lzzO4OWrf5LNCXzT7ZzcYZ508kg7SOWoj7uEssBbHECtLmryOzTybbDQdq07tGUPqgIbLRnfJWOkF5KmoVcpYhFmz-JuwfX6telzWL3-8O4LharUKRaOi_tXVt2wxzjbuthfE22IJFf/s1280/Map.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="576" data-original-width="1280" height="216" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjj5lzzO4OWrf5LNCXzT7ZzcYZ508kg7SOWoj7uEssBbHECtLmryOzTybbDQdq07tGUPqgIbLRnfJWOkF5KmoVcpYhFmz-JuwfX6telzWL3-8O4LharUKRaOi_tXVt2wxzjbuthfE22IJFf/w480-h216/Map.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><br /></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 8.0pt; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-size: x-large;">Every
now and then, a gift of epic proportions is given.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yesterday, Clay came home to visit.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He tends to order Christmas presents a couple
days before an occasion and they come in afterwards.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When he told me he was bringing presents, I
thought he got me a cool new cribbage board because he said we had talked about
the gift before.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Nope, I was so
surprised to receive a map of the world with pushpins to put in the places I
have traveled.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have always thought
this was a fun idea, but I never wanted to spend money on such a thing, so what
a perfect gift.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Of course, now all I can
think of is traveling.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 8.0pt; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-size: x-large;">Last
year, my sister and I talked about going to South Carolina.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I also planned to travel to New Mexico to see
the White Sands for a book project.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This
year, I planned to travel to Ireland with family in June.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Instead, my mother died and COVID shut down
travel. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I don’t see Ireland anything
opening anytime soon.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ugh.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We do have a contingent plan to go to San
Antonio for Madelle’s trip.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 8.0pt; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-size: x-large;">I
look at my new map and wonder when I will be able to add another pin.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This fall I want to go to South Carolina, but
will our country even be ready for such an adventure?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I still want to see the White Sands in New
Mexico.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Well, I want to see all sorts of
stuff, but these areas are the next on my list.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>We still want to go to Ireland.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Italy and Norway are calling for me to visit.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am getting impatient to go, go, go.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 8.0pt; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-size: x-large;">I
just had a thought.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How obnoxious will
it be to travel when the authorities open the flood gates?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The tourist places are going to be packed
even more than normal.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Heavy sigh!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I won’t let that stop me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As soon as COVID doesn’t run our lives, I
will book flights for at least me and Madelle for Ireland.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My 54<sup>th</sup> or 55<sup>th</sup>
birthday will be spent in Italy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This
year I will at least go to the Grand Tetons.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I will see something new!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Okay,
maybe I will only make it to Garnet Ghost Town.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 8.0pt; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-size: x-large;">I
had intended this to be a fun post about a fun gift.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now I just want to jump in my truck and
drive.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am so ready to play, to run
away.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Last week, I took a leap and
bought me and my sister tickets to the Avett Brothers concert in July.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Madelle and I agreed we will attempt Texas in
June, even if we have to drive.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Clay is
game for the trip too.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sure, I have been
to Missoula and San Antonio in the past, but I haven’t heard the Avett Brothers
in person.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I also haven’t seen
everything there is to see in San Antonio.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Besides, there is the Phil Factor.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Cousin Phil lives there, and Madelle has adored him since she was
little.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We were going to go see him last
year.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This year it will happen.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 8.0pt; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-size: x-large;">I
am determined. I will have fun this
year!!! On the map, Clay had engraved
“the Misadventure Of The Great And Powerful Lisa Nixon Richard.” Watch out.
The misadventures will take place.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 8.0pt; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 8.0pt; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5khbVk2RSrMewt57_G9A1ZfyhPMGEGe005Jslw5M53bkHyYiOyXHcGYiqLahFffo7L2wj4vM8WQqqckfH8KBtwIeaqFUjwDEJY3oLAlKld4hRE3ZJPpbFcmlbqBLI_wbxdNVIBNGXOfcE/s1280/Misadventures.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="576" data-original-width="1280" height="198" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5khbVk2RSrMewt57_G9A1ZfyhPMGEGe005Jslw5M53bkHyYiOyXHcGYiqLahFffo7L2wj4vM8WQqqckfH8KBtwIeaqFUjwDEJY3oLAlKld4hRE3ZJPpbFcmlbqBLI_wbxdNVIBNGXOfcE/w442-h198/Misadventures.jpg" width="442" /></a></div><br /><span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span><p></p>Lisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14752403362095757217noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3183385979512765108.post-88166770692617727372021-01-12T07:03:00.001-07:002021-01-12T07:03:05.740-07:00Freezer Bag Quilt<p><span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-size: x-large;"> <br /><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 8.0pt; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-size: x-large;">After
Christmas, I turned back to my quilting projects.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have found with quilting that I like having
projects at different stages.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At times I
fear I am getting as obnoxious as my mom.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The jury is still out about that.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Anyway, I can’t spend an entire day tying knots because my hands hurt
after a long period of time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Thus, I
have a knotting project in one room.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In
the other room, I use my sewing machine on the latest project.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Since I can go from one to the other, I am
making pretty good time.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 8.0pt; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><o:p><span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-size: x-large;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 8.0pt; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><o:p><span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-size: x-large;"> </span></o:p></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-size: x-large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLx8RWuObOaVFrOLLoztwTnJ1KLQsMc3MPIHHXppMGYp2zvBH_aSOYLCu1t9UEVugi-2tkTd6fQSAI8sE_ExMl13qiBt9k_jYqcRTQXhE-RM5Rzb9V7C3YILzzTbrOuJBCyXpi7ycTbngi/s1280/Halloween+Wall+Hanging.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="576" data-original-width="1280" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLx8RWuObOaVFrOLLoztwTnJ1KLQsMc3MPIHHXppMGYp2zvBH_aSOYLCu1t9UEVugi-2tkTd6fQSAI8sE_ExMl13qiBt9k_jYqcRTQXhE-RM5Rzb9V7C3YILzzTbrOuJBCyXpi7ycTbngi/w400-h180/Halloween+Wall+Hanging.jpg" width="400" /></a></span></div><span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 8.0pt; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-size: x-large;">This
wall hanging is a bit hilarious.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When I
threw it in an unfinished box, the quilting fluff was showing; yet, a sleeve
had been sewn on to hang the piece.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
pulled it out to put the binding on.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
cut some black fabric that I had to buy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I cut all the edges.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At some
point during all of this, I flipped it over.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Mom had sewn a tag on the back that said it was finished in 1995.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I realized the quilt fluff was supposed to be
the spider webbing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Opps.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At this point I had already blocked it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Jerry and Madelle didn’t like Mom’s look, so
I continued to bind the edges.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I did
work that didn’t need done.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Oh
well.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now it is nice and tidy.</span></span><span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: xx-large; text-indent: 0.5in;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 8.0pt; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><o:p><span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-size: x-large;"> </span></o:p></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div><span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7ZM7W5mO6UaMlm-ekoKjdjIrl9VeSJRWS7Ki8_Mopo7bGu33hTMdwdyp7bHqwNvqxdmjFceN48AQAIOLhxPajbJHfTxfxB5AiJLarhXUeN1IM1i0P9lGcCfiQNmCc6VPR8G_Hd3VvPW1O/s1280/Valentine+Wall.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="576" data-original-width="1280" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7ZM7W5mO6UaMlm-ekoKjdjIrl9VeSJRWS7Ki8_Mopo7bGu33hTMdwdyp7bHqwNvqxdmjFceN48AQAIOLhxPajbJHfTxfxB5AiJLarhXUeN1IM1i0P9lGcCfiQNmCc6VPR8G_Hd3VvPW1O/w400-h180/Valentine+Wall.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 8.0pt; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-size: x-large;">The
Valentine wall hanging had me a pit nervous.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>A needle and thread had been placed in the spot Mom had left off hand
stitching.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When I decided I need to face
my fear of hand stitching, I realized I needed to finish up the edge of two
blocks and two hearts.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I knew my
stitches wouldn’t look as good as Mom’s.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I turned on my music and began the job.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Low and behold, a person would have to look hard to find the differences
between our stitches.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am not that bad
at hand stitching.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I won’t earn any
prices, but I can hold my own.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 8.0pt; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><o:p><span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-size: x-large;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 8.0pt; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><o:p><span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-size: x-large;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 8.0pt; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-size: x-large;"></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-size: x-large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjL9_hpDjljjk55QnGlyLwUbyOsgCpSQzo8l8jNHSa3jQ-qVnDO4GG7HVRxGcnN5Joo8deAmUa5Cb8zbw-i8puOyhorAssbJvB_dh1xpFbMRviRHxo3yn30tIU_EIhXCLfE_ZR9hVIa7q1d/s1295/Freezer+Bag+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1295" data-original-width="583" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjL9_hpDjljjk55QnGlyLwUbyOsgCpSQzo8l8jNHSa3jQ-qVnDO4GG7HVRxGcnN5Joo8deAmUa5Cb8zbw-i8puOyhorAssbJvB_dh1xpFbMRviRHxo3yn30tIU_EIhXCLfE_ZR9hVIa7q1d/w288-h640/Freezer+Bag+1.jpg" width="288" /></a></span></div><span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-size: x-large;">This
quilt will always make me laugh.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I call
it the freezer bag quilt.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When I began
unpacking and going through Mom’s unfinished projects, I was organizing cut
fabric, quilt blocks, projects that needed quilted, projects that needed
binding, and put the in-between throughout the mix.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Well, as my pile of cut strips of fabric grew
and grew, I became extremely overwhelmed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>When I filled an entire section of my area to keep the strips, I pulled
out a gallon freezer bag filled with strips.<o:p></o:p></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 8.0pt; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><o:p><span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-size: x-large;"> </span></o:p></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-size: x-large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKyvBRNSx5OAYr9kUkjxPBfRVwNzMhyphenhyphenYvfx5T6xoM_1XBu6HPjREsGRE3fmdSjsM3UJ-ijPymS-rKU2bIwD16S3dRo7zEjCVHhQhIRpdMar4SuKO0VmOP1jL3zdjtKcFrk3M-sUK8SWbkZ/s1295/Freezer+Bag+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1295" data-original-width="971" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKyvBRNSx5OAYr9kUkjxPBfRVwNzMhyphenhyphenYvfx5T6xoM_1XBu6HPjREsGRE3fmdSjsM3UJ-ijPymS-rKU2bIwD16S3dRo7zEjCVHhQhIRpdMar4SuKO0VmOP1jL3zdjtKcFrk3M-sUK8SWbkZ/w300-h400/Freezer+Bag+2.jpg" width="300" /></a></span></div><span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-size: x-large;"><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><br /></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 8.0pt; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><o:p><span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-size: x-large;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 8.0pt; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-size: x-large;"></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-size: x-large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmmvKLInVl3eKRNWomCYq6-MiMZNKdnMBR32NLouACMJT9CB1zVhLJNSQnEkbSx_ltxFq3zd4e2ApltIP8jl1fzynefidTJqx_KOkBAbZoXx4HAiuXGmktXzcoH77EM5N6gcgiAfR7Zn8L/s1295/Freezer+Bag+4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1295" data-original-width="971" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmmvKLInVl3eKRNWomCYq6-MiMZNKdnMBR32NLouACMJT9CB1zVhLJNSQnEkbSx_ltxFq3zd4e2ApltIP8jl1fzynefidTJqx_KOkBAbZoXx4HAiuXGmktXzcoH77EM5N6gcgiAfR7Zn8L/w300-h400/Freezer+Bag+4.jpg" width="300" /></a></span></div><span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-size: x-large;">I
almost felt like burning everything right then and there.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I needed to feel I was making progress.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I opened the bag and grabbed two strips of
fabric and sewed them together at the ends.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I kept adding pieces with the same technique that I used for Jerry’s
quilt.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Within a couple of days, I had
the entire face of the quilt.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>All of it
came from a freezer bag and I used all the fabric except a couple of strips of
Raggedy Andy and Ann fabric.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Of course,
I worried because it was crazy long.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 8.0pt; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-size: x-large;">Well,
the quilt ended up being meant for Clay.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>He is 6.3 or 6.4.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At Christmas,
he complained about short blankets.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The
other day he came home.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He tested the
newly finished quilt.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A perfect
fit!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He took the quilt home to
Belgrade.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I couldn’t be happier that it
went to him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yay.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now for my next quilt to finish.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 8.0pt; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-size: x-large;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyuHPo4VbvUx_OpdvOmeWe67Lx3IVrPrlW6LHu5bgg4erluELk-hSWMYhyWSnzpnRJXWq95NLmkhzk3xBZtoX50ZY6mmGk43ws40g6A9ArbG8I3F3FHNn7DAH6SC4Cl7J5Tn3-r6prBMnI/s1280/Freezer+Bag+3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="576" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyuHPo4VbvUx_OpdvOmeWe67Lx3IVrPrlW6LHu5bgg4erluELk-hSWMYhyWSnzpnRJXWq95NLmkhzk3xBZtoX50ZY6mmGk43ws40g6A9ArbG8I3F3FHNn7DAH6SC4Cl7J5Tn3-r6prBMnI/w288-h640/Freezer+Bag+3.jpg" width="288" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I added Leo because he is so cute.</td></tr></tbody></table>At
the moment, I am working on twin quilts.
I am tying one and will start the other to tie soon. I have another I am designing from scraps of
strips of material. I also have a wall
hanging sitting out that I am contemplating.
Hopefully soon, I will be able to post those as finished. Until then, I have to get back to work.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p>Lisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14752403362095757217noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3183385979512765108.post-52452863930013438752020-12-31T10:00:00.002-07:002020-12-31T10:00:58.583-07:00Reflections on a Tough Year<p><span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-size: x-large;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 8.0pt; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-size: x-large;">Since
the beginning of our original quarantine, people have talked about what a rotten
year 2020 has been.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The majority of my
being wants desperately to agree.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So
many things happened that were life-altering in terrible ways for me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>However, the eternal optimist, who clings to
my faith, screams out to remember that God walked every step with me, even when
I yelled at him a number of times the past thirty plus days.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Okay, I yelled some at other points in the
year too.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Still, I want to remember the
good things.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yes, there was good in the
year.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 8.0pt; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-size: x-large;">First,
the bad stuff is the obvious: politics, masks, mental illness, death, and
writing burnout.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Need I say more?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Nope.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 8.0pt; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-size: x-large;">Even
with all that happened, I accomplished a ton.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>In the writing arena, I published three novels and read 38 books.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sure, I burned out and failed miserably at a
writing class, but I attempted the challenges.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>That alone is a win.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I also
watched 54 movies, crocheted two blankets, finished 11 quilting projects, and
quilted two full blankets.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Also,
something that I am excited for next spring is that we finally had people put
in a beautiful garden retaining wall, a gorgeous back deck, and a rockin fire
pit.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I enjoyed all of this in 2020 and
will continue to enjoy all of it during the warm months of 2021!<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 8.0pt; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-size: x-large;">For
all the ugliness, God blessed me the entire year of 2020.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He helped guide my surgeon’s hands during my
hip replacement.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sure recuperating
during a pandemic was interesting, but He also gave me strength to help my
sister clean out my mom’s house three months after the surgery.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I ache, just thinking about all of that
lifting and cleaning.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ugh!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 8.0pt; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-size: x-large;">With
the house and funeral of my mom, we were blessed with our Nixon cousins
rallying around us to help with food for the funeral reception at the house,
lifting, getting rid of furniture, and loving us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I get misty eyed thinking of all of
them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I thought cleaning and selling the
house would take all summer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>God helped
us wrap up everything but the paperwork in a month.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He is so good!!!<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 8.0pt; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-size: x-large;">Even
with the world closed for a good nine months, we were able to run away a few
times.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For Clay’s birthday, we spent the
day at the Headwater’s of the Missouri having a picnic and hiking on my two
month old new hip.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The blue sky and warm
sun lightened my heart.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In August, we
took a road trip through Wyoming and South Dakota.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We made new memories and remembered the last
trip so many years ago.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We went back to
Wyoming two months later to celebrate Carissa entering the family.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Oh what a blessing she is.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 8.0pt; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-size: x-large;">The
end of the year found us facing more loss, my sweet son.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yes, I went down the rabbit hole of despair a
couple of times; hating everything I looked at or thought about, including God.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Being the best of father’s, God helped me
claw my way out of the anguish both times and has brought a small amount of
peace back to me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How did I know He was
helping?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have never had so many cards
sent to us or flowers filling the house.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>We have been sent prayers and love from family and friends from all over
the United States: old school friends, military family, and our faith family.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>During my last dark day, God sent a host of
young adults to cheer me up.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am most
blessed by the people in my life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I know
through all of them, He will continue to heal me as time moves ever forward.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 8.0pt; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-size: x-large;">I
don’t want to leave out two other blessings.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>After seventeen years, our dear sweet Tracer Cat had to be put down at
the beginning of November.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was amazed
how much I missed her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So, Madelle and I
found a new kitten.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Little Runa has been
a blessing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She cuddles with me and
makes me laugh.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Also, Madelle is
finished with school.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Since second
grade, she has hated the institution because of one bad experience after
another.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I don’t know what the future
holds for her or us, but this is a blessing and victory.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 8.0pt; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-size: x-large;">I
have found it a bit entertaining seeing how people are approaching 2021.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Some people are filled with hope for a new
beginning, to shed away all the ugliness of 2020.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Others figure more of the ugliness will spill
over.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I can’t change the mask/Covid
issues that are hurting all of us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I can’t
stop the political environment.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I do
think the negativity from these areas will continue.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had planned to take Madelle on a graduation
trip to Ireland.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We may end up renting a
cabin at Seeley Lake instead.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Time will
tell.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 8.0pt; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-size: x-large;">What
I know is that I create my own atmosphere: positive or negative.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For the year 2021, I will continue to rely on
my faith.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am making loose plans that I
can control.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am putting the world at arm’s
length.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I will be creative in the areas
of quilting, crocheting, painting, and gardening.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I will do a little baking of bread and scones
and other fun things I have wanted to try to bake for years.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I will write when I feel the need.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I want to heal from all the challenges I did in
the past couple of years.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Finally, I
will heal my heart by just being, enjoying everyday tasks, like doing dishes,
spending time with loved ones, pulling weeds.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I hope to travel, but we will see the world, country, state stages this
spring.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Really, I will have joy for the
coming year because I choose joy.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 8.0pt; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-size: x-large;">I
pray all people choose joy.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 8.0pt; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 8.0pt; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPiPqFZEu28HFpKJ87gJgTuWHy5x3ewi__dqn-HhXL-UQE3NFqs6PnT7i679pHCLMoPiIrvKSbL9RrCtjsmQmOnhiIyo1O3tLSedmi7eQ94WMeEhYG5nPSykeFnrRv98qYjEZJgT0yeIJO/s1280/Flay.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="576" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPiPqFZEu28HFpKJ87gJgTuWHy5x3ewi__dqn-HhXL-UQE3NFqs6PnT7i679pHCLMoPiIrvKSbL9RrCtjsmQmOnhiIyo1O3tLSedmi7eQ94WMeEhYG5nPSykeFnrRv98qYjEZJgT0yeIJO/w288-h640/Flay.jpg" width="288" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Madelle's Graduation Blanket</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8G7Yfp5hyphenhyphen7mi74sreD9qOAXxvLdQZlTL87gmSUMm39yERw-b7JL3xmUqL5kumlHw6IsXPNT0KEp5gMTH7i0fTm9_R1g6pw4yweckoRa84_Bcc8TibKKXlV5KQjjO50bjqykPse_OGB_Af/s1280/Patriotic.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="960" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8G7Yfp5hyphenhyphen7mi74sreD9qOAXxvLdQZlTL87gmSUMm39yERw-b7JL3xmUqL5kumlHw6IsXPNT0KEp5gMTH7i0fTm9_R1g6pw4yweckoRa84_Bcc8TibKKXlV5KQjjO50bjqykPse_OGB_Af/w300-h400/Patriotic.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jerry's Christmas Quilt with a Patriotic Theme</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9a9jhd-CQ_rf9Z4dA_AaGNROSyocNTagbmH4YodLcIFtYjFyVY_dtj9phsNyqK2M4JV1RfQONjqxvlWC3c2SU4cm9O17yXt_18OvchpBs4yf9uXehFpYhU_Hz-mIqcADo8nc1IkdyIeGJ/s1280/Runa.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="576" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9a9jhd-CQ_rf9Z4dA_AaGNROSyocNTagbmH4YodLcIFtYjFyVY_dtj9phsNyqK2M4JV1RfQONjqxvlWC3c2SU4cm9O17yXt_18OvchpBs4yf9uXehFpYhU_Hz-mIqcADo8nc1IkdyIeGJ/w288-h640/Runa.jpg" width="288" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Runa, our new little blessing.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></span></p>Lisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14752403362095757217noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3183385979512765108.post-53274432774554532352020-11-26T08:54:00.000-07:002020-11-26T08:54:27.020-07:00Art Quilting<p><span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-size: x-large;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 8.0pt; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-size: x-large;">I
lack the desire to write.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I sat down a
week or two ago to write another story about my mom, but I fail to feel
anything but a deep lethargy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This past
week has been super busy with Madelle’s birthday, early Thanksgiving, and a
busy schedule, so I haven’t went back to the topic I started.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Today though, I thought I would share
pictures of the quilt I finished on Monday.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 8.0pt; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-size: x-large;">When
I pulled out the quilt “sandwich,” I was confused.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sure, the quilting looks wonderful and the
pieces are put together with perfection, but there was no pizzazz.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I went to Joann’s to find some fabric for the
binding.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I bought enough to also sew on
a sleeve on the back.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Though the quilt
is huge for a wall hanging, it is also super small for a lap quilt.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What was my mother thinking of doing with
this?<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 8.0pt; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><o:p><span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-size: x-large;"></span></o:p></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-size: x-large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHWtP2ddX1kNLV2ctyUK0fps2FgzrNhHn9iLyRM02fSmVhwZZobLOx4jO1YY3JMckKAGCESL66dhHtml7jFyVywL7oW39PAmKrR0jxBAQc_TF-pQ6gommL2AEJixsdEY6PIbQ11vCfKoCe/s4000/IMG_20201120_142829231.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHWtP2ddX1kNLV2ctyUK0fps2FgzrNhHn9iLyRM02fSmVhwZZobLOx4jO1YY3JMckKAGCESL66dhHtml7jFyVywL7oW39PAmKrR0jxBAQc_TF-pQ6gommL2AEJixsdEY6PIbQ11vCfKoCe/w400-h300/IMG_20201120_142829231.jpg" width="400" /></a></span></div><span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-size: x-large;"><br /> </span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 8.0pt; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><o:p><span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-size: x-large;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 8.0pt; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-size: x-large;">Each
time I finished up working on the quilt for the day, I laid it out on the end
of the bed to look at it and contemplate as I passed by.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>One day, I finally realized what it might
be.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The last couple of years, Mom talked
about making quilt art.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now, I think all
quilts are art.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She and many others are
taking quilting to a new level.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They are
adding things to their quilts, embellishing in other words.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I don’t mind an occasional button, but she
talked about metal and other things.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Her
“art” quilt books are coming to my house and they are doing weird stuff.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am not into this type of art.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I like the standard quilt art instead.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But my mind started racing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I went on a shopping trip to Hobby Lobby.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 8.0pt; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-size: x-large;">I
bought a ribbon, plastic snowflakes, tiny Christmas ornaments, and
stockings. When I got home, I decided
right away that the snowflakes were out.
I didn’t like them. I arranged
all the other items and thought it looked good.
Once I finished the binding and sleeve, I got to work sewing by hand the
stockings and ribbon. I stopped
there. The ornaments are cute, but the
quilt would lose the quilting part of the pieces sewn together. Mom would probably argue with me and put the
ornaments on. Of course, she must have
had a completely different thought about how to finish the quilt in the first
place. But I am happy with how it turned
out.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 8.0pt; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 8.0pt; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEqeL6RWAj00DL5K1sr0TGJNoEcc3kOrH16HkUukjzHAOcP9_YrB8d1NfuGVqubDw7KEgX85P5WMOax9AJNVxObHCvP1FE2m-vLYKt5o3pJBEwuqXm15kOAAvWCjJfDrr_ZtovtyjygbYt/s4000/IMG_20201123_200115496.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="3000" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEqeL6RWAj00DL5K1sr0TGJNoEcc3kOrH16HkUukjzHAOcP9_YrB8d1NfuGVqubDw7KEgX85P5WMOax9AJNVxObHCvP1FE2m-vLYKt5o3pJBEwuqXm15kOAAvWCjJfDrr_ZtovtyjygbYt/w480-h640/IMG_20201123_200115496.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><br /><span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span><p></p>Lisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14752403362095757217noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3183385979512765108.post-53446794948440386212020-11-12T11:46:00.004-07:002020-11-12T11:46:48.810-07:00Held Back<p> </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 8.0pt; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; text-indent: 0.5in;">I can’t recall ever
feeling unloved while I grew up in my mother’s home.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; text-indent: 0.5in;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; text-indent: 0.5in;">A lot of other feelings come to mind, but I
truly thought she loved me.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; text-indent: 0.5in;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; text-indent: 0.5in;">Looking
back, I could analyze everything and come to a different conclusion.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; text-indent: 0.5in;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; text-indent: 0.5in;">However, I felt very confident that I was
loved.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; text-indent: 0.5in;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; text-indent: 0.5in;">I didn’t see the wonkiness of the
things that happened between my mom and me.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; text-indent: 0.5in;">
</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; text-indent: 0.5in;">My mom constantly watched out for me.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; text-indent: 0.5in;">
</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; text-indent: 0.5in;">She kept me by her side all the time.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; text-indent: 0.5in;">
</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; text-indent: 0.5in;">Smothering is a good word that comes to mind.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; text-indent: 0.5in;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; text-indent: 0.5in;">In one situation, this turned to craziness
that changed the course of my life.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 8.0pt; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><o:p><span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-size: x-large;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 8.0pt; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-size: x-large;">My first grade teacher
was old.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Even looking back at pictures,
she must have been in her seventies.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She
kept her white hair short with curls that ringed her head.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Her glass filled her wrinkled face.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She wore pantsuits on her plump body,
grandmotherly in all the right areas of personality.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Though I think she might have been
tough.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We all behaved.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I adored her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>At the end of the school year, I felt so special when she invited us to
dinner.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 8.0pt; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><o:p><span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-size: x-large;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 8.0pt; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-size: x-large;">She lived just a few
houses up from the doctor’s office and on the other side of the street.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Her house fit nicely on the bottom slop of a
hill on the nice side of town.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I thought
she was rich as we walked into the lovely furnished house with beautifully decorated
walls.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The two stories made the house
look like a mansion compared to our small singlewide trailer house.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 8.0pt; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><o:p><span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-size: x-large;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 8.0pt; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-size: x-large;">Mrs. Delapp’s husband
died years prior and her children lived far away.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Only the four of us sat at the table.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I haven’t a clue what we ate.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I do remember feeling comfortable and happy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When we finished eating, she took us into the
living room.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The conversation turned
serious.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I couldn’t read well enough for
her to feel comfortable with me continuing on to second grade.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She told my parents that they could let me go
onto the next level, but she warned them I would struggle because I was so
behind my classmates.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 8.0pt; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><o:p><span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-size: x-large;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 8.0pt; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-size: x-large;">Concern crossed my dad’s
face, “is she slow.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I chuckle at how
politically incorrect that response is for today.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Life was much different back in 1974.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 8.0pt; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><o:p><span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-size: x-large;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 8.0pt; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-size: x-large;">Mrs. Delapp reassured
him I was quite capable of reading.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The
problem was that I missed so much school that I wasn’t getting the right amount
of exposure to the lessons.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He had no
idea I missed school.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In the morning, he
left for work at five and returned at six in the evening.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Never did he think he had to check on my
attendance.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 8.0pt; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><o:p><span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-size: x-large;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 8.0pt; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-size: x-large;">The rest of the evening,
I don’t remember what was said though I do think Dad agreed at her house that I
would be held back and repeat the first grade.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I didn’t feel good anymore.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 8.0pt; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><o:p><span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-size: x-large;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 8.0pt; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-size: x-large;">At some point, my
parents had a long heated talk.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Dad
wanted to know the reason why I missed so much school.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Mom said I couldn’t go to school if the
weather was bad or if I was sick.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He questioned
all of this.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In the end, he learned she
kept me home if it rained, snowed, I sniffled, and every excuse in the book
that made complete sense to her but not the rest of the world.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I imagine Dad was angry and told her how life
would be the next year.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 8.0pt; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><o:p><span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-size: x-large;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 8.0pt; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-size: x-large;">From that time forward,
Dad took me to the library.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We worked on
my reading and continued to talk stories we read until the day he passed
away.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Each night, we talked about school.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I never had perfect attendance, but I had to
be sick by his standards to stay home.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
didn’t miss much school.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 8.0pt; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><o:p><span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-size: x-large;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 8.0pt; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-size: x-large;">Holding me back was the
right decision.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was teased.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Some would say I was bullied.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I hated that, obviously.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I blamed my mother for having to be held back
when kids asked questions like why I was a year older.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I worked my ass off to get good grades to
prove I wasn’t “slow.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I also felt
something was amiss with my mom’s thinking.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Sure, I was only six when this happened, but Dad and Mrs. Delapp didn’t
approve of her keeping me home.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 8.0pt; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><o:p><span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-size: x-large;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 8.0pt; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-size: x-large;">Over the years, I asked
Mom a lot of questions about her behavior.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>She threw her mother under the bus a lot by saying she was never taught
to be a mother.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Grandma was sick a lot.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I would get mad and say Mom didn’t teach me
either, but I figured it out.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Granted,
maybe I didn’t do much better.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The jury
is still out on that and I know one person who thinks I was a terrible mother.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 8.0pt; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><o:p><span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-size: x-large;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 8.0pt; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-size: x-large;">As I quilt, I think of
the changes my life took due to being held back.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I got over the shame I felt when being
teased.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>By high school, no one cared.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was blessed with the friends I made as part
of the Class of ‘’87 in both Eureka and Libby: Terri, Stacey, and a host of
others.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Of course, I was led to study
hard and go to college, meeting my dear husband.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I learned to love story and to write.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Who knows how my life would have turned out
if I had graduated in 1986 instead?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The
quilt of my life definitely would have been different.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 8.0pt; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 8.0pt; text-indent: .5in;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGvCHFzuSKqcuuWH61XG_WB8K3DzBylB297qUY1UoZ5IEKVRyRvBH4cpMiAAyeWbgXdrmK76toNY4LSCTQjMPYfR_nARWNqap94T59Nf-aViJwAbCF4LAIG_CDrOJn5WXzxeAylPYYr7Ls/s4000/IMG_20201112_113049690.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGvCHFzuSKqcuuWH61XG_WB8K3DzBylB297qUY1UoZ5IEKVRyRvBH4cpMiAAyeWbgXdrmK76toNY4LSCTQjMPYfR_nARWNqap94T59Nf-aViJwAbCF4LAIG_CDrOJn5WXzxeAylPYYr7Ls/w400-h300/IMG_20201112_113049690.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Here is the fourth project I have finished for Mom. I did the binding.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></p>Lisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14752403362095757217noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3183385979512765108.post-53320290522661071152020-11-06T07:20:00.005-07:002020-11-06T07:28:55.868-07:00Content<p><span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-size: x-large;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 8pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-size: x-large;">A
few months ago, life weighed on me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As I
always do, I went out to see what I could read to help me get through the days.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Jerry was at annual training in Iowa.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I thought maybe a book about faith and an
absent husband might help.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I picked a
book called “Faith Deployed” by Jocelyn Green.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The book is for military wives.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The topics aren’t applying completely to me because it comes from the
viewpoint of an active duty wife, but I have enjoyed the chapters I have read.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They are short. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I read one a week to think about throughout
the days.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 8pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-size: x-large;">A
couple weeks ago, the Bible reading at the top of chapter 8 resonated with
me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She cut parts of the verse out, so
it began with “I have learned to be content whatever the circumstances”.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I liked the idea of being content.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I need to be more content in all things.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>With COVID, I have found myself not at all
content.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I want to go to activities that
have been canceled.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I want to
travel.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I want my daughter socially
healthy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The list of my discontent can
go on and on.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If I keep being restless,
my life will become unbearable.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had a
lot to ponder for the week.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 8pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-size: x-large;">I
went to Mass that Sunday, nothing out of the ordinary.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The Bible reading at Mass caused me to sit up
straight.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The New Testament reading was
the exact same as the one in the book.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Okay, God is telling me this is really important.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I love it when he makes his message
abundantly clear.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I looked up the verses
in a couple of different versions of the Bible.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The one at the bottom of the page comes from my Catholic New American
Bible, just like the reading at church.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 8pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-size: x-large;">Yes,
I need to be content.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I need to be resilient
with all the things happening in the world and in my life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In fifty-two years, God has taught me resiliency
and so many other things.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I need to rely
on all my life experiences.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I need to
rely on the friends and family God sends to me who enhance my life, my
attitude, like the Philippians helped Paul.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Most of all, I need to rely on God to get me through the good days and
the bad.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He never has let me down and he
never will.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My strength comes through
the Lord.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This will keep me healthy and smiling.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 8pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><o:p><span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-size: x-large;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 8pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-size: x-large;">“Not
that I say this because of need, for I have learned, in whatever situation I
find myself, to be self-sufficient.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
know indeed how to live in humble circumstances; I know also how to live with
abundance.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In every circumstance and in
all things I have learned the secret of being well fed and of going hungry, of
living in abundance and of being in need.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I have the strength for everything through him who empowers me.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Philippians 4: 11-13<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 8pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><o:p><span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-size: x-large;"> </span></o:p></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-size: x-large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCyJ4KGpa2IT68imvIT43SGx2b5D0WX2YnvwueBmaZHWVve2lZCReRTSTnfjJTu9_U4h05hyIIZQmDs2CSYoTL2UjJ6JPoFSPHjehIS9J30zSKg8b5ATBnNCWiuPiUtxPz5x_h4LmSEUgN/s2048/Sun.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1152" data-original-width="2048" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCyJ4KGpa2IT68imvIT43SGx2b5D0WX2YnvwueBmaZHWVve2lZCReRTSTnfjJTu9_U4h05hyIIZQmDs2CSYoTL2UjJ6JPoFSPHjehIS9J30zSKg8b5ATBnNCWiuPiUtxPz5x_h4LmSEUgN/w400-h225/Sun.jpg" width="400" /></a></span></span></div><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></span><p></p>Lisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14752403362095757217noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3183385979512765108.post-63251615556958401872020-11-02T06:58:00.000-07:002020-11-02T06:58:12.632-07:00The Quilt<p><span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-size: x-large;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 8.0pt; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-size: x-large;">Where
do I start a story about the patchy relationship between a mother and daughter?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Do I begin with the beginning of the
relationship?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Or do I begin with her
beginning to point out the clues that might have made my mother who she became
as an adult?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I really don’t know where
to start our story.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The relationship was
like a patchwork quilt.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Some of the
blocks did look beautiful in all the right patterns and color
combinations.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A good many blocks came
together at wrong angles with ugly fabric that clashed, especially at the
bottom of the quilt.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ugly!<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 8.0pt; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-size: x-large;">Last
year at this exact same time in November 2019, I envisioned writing this story
as a memoire with the theme of prison.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
felt I was being held hostage by my mother.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I didn’t have one positive, nice thing to say about her besides she was
an amazing quilter.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My anger and
frustration consumed me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I dreaded
Sunday afternoon calls.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Her hopelessness
covered me, suffocating as if a quilt was being pressed against my face.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 8.0pt; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-size: x-large;">Now,
I sit in my bedroom with all of her leftover quilting projects.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Though I was still angry with her after she
died, I couldn’t bear to throw all of her unfinished work away.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>All the piles of quilt tops, cut strips of
fabric, various stages of done projects were her legacy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So, I packed them in boxes, nine totes to be
exact.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I drug them to my garage, except
one I took to my writing room along with the sewing machine stand and her
travel machine.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 8.0pt; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-size: x-large;">As
we prepared the house to sell, I thought of writing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Traveling the five hours back and forth from
my house to hers, I thought of how I wanted to heal through writing like I did
when my dad died.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I thought of the
coming year of working on the quilting projects, learning as I sewed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I thought of my daughter’s senior year of
high school and my amazingly supportive husband.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The last thing I wanted for them, our home,
or myself was to be in a black hole of anger.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Maybe writing our story was a bad idea.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 8.0pt; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-size: x-large;">I
also listened to people during this time of closure.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>People loved my mom.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They mourned her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Those who knew her well felt sorrow at her
mental state.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yes, my story of anger is
a true story, but their story is true as well.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The little girl in me wanted to find the love I lost for her, to
remember happy times with her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sure, the
snarky teen and angry adult wanted to hold on to the injustice of her actions,
I still do on some days.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The combination
of the young and old wants to burn the guilt I harbor.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The older, mature adult in me ultimately
wants to find peace and finish the damn quilt.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 8.0pt; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-size: x-large;">Besides,
sitting at the sewing machine, emotions bubble up. Some stories play in my head. I need to get my thoughts out on the
page. I am a writer. That is what we do. Whether I do either my mom or me justice or
the topic, time will tell. All I know is
the story needs told. The quilt needs to
be done, so I can use it without wanting to take it apart with the seam ripper.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 8.0pt; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-size: x-large;">While I write my story, I will be finishing her projects. Below is the majority of the work I have in front of me. I have finished a couple of things. I have more projects in my writing room as well. In the end, I should have a count of everything that I have accomplished. I am sure the project of sewing will take me longer then a year. The writing? I will see what happens. I declare the year of the quilt starting today.</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 8.0pt; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjK1KtWbEpP5BX-a1rE8lcS_vKqUHVopVxRM7Tb-3yihv6MxnEgKSvBEwKbnNZHUIWTX_QGtLt01NhZnvolQuAOhblcy7XyjBobyQFmWwtrjYZUpHn0m5lKiFhJ0C6XMQqkHI0cwhcvfrIw/s4000/IMG_20201102_065003983.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="3000" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjK1KtWbEpP5BX-a1rE8lcS_vKqUHVopVxRM7Tb-3yihv6MxnEgKSvBEwKbnNZHUIWTX_QGtLt01NhZnvolQuAOhblcy7XyjBobyQFmWwtrjYZUpHn0m5lKiFhJ0C6XMQqkHI0cwhcvfrIw/w480-h640/IMG_20201102_065003983.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhR0a0JINtMvYDJqtApjsghdX8NPnHcjMllv0yBLvSP9P5iWZmlYQj7lfPf73_GtZ2ioVLL7X4ydKFYFK4j67YVBoQFXYp6G4jPsxoLNzkfxbNCqOMp-0hA81OoEEA8CU7HC4k4M-XOMThyphenhyphen/s4000/IMG_20201102_064948350.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhR0a0JINtMvYDJqtApjsghdX8NPnHcjMllv0yBLvSP9P5iWZmlYQj7lfPf73_GtZ2ioVLL7X4ydKFYFK4j67YVBoQFXYp6G4jPsxoLNzkfxbNCqOMp-0hA81OoEEA8CU7HC4k4M-XOMThyphenhyphen/w400-h300/IMG_20201102_064948350.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span><p></p>Lisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14752403362095757217noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3183385979512765108.post-79977853464148695392020-10-07T19:53:00.000-06:002020-10-07T19:53:07.269-06:00MIA Status<p><span style="font-size: x-large;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">As I washed
dishes by hand tonight, the hot water felt divine on my achy hands.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I let my mind wander.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>All sorts of ideas for a blog post filtered
through my thoughts: quilting, Mom, my father-in-law, life in general, art
class, masks, mental illness, and writing blocks.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>With an excited step, I left the kitchen,
crossed the dining room, and entered the writing room.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Of course, I checked my email and TEAMS to
see if I had received a note from one of Madelle's teachers.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After I saw she finished that class with
flying colors for the block, I stupidly looked at Facebook.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My desire to write depleted like a hot air
balloon half a mile off the ground due to negativity.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When will I learn?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yet, I am not one to turn from a
mission.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Well, most of the time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So, here I sit trying to collect some semblance
of a thought or two.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">For a month and
a half, I have been MIA on my blog.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This
entire year has been hit and miss with my postings.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I would love to say I have been busy writing
great fiction.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Nope.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In fact, I was told my stories lacked depth
and the reader could care less what happened to the characters of the three
short stories I sent into the workshop I attended last month via the internet.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Wow, if that doesn't kill the desire to
write!!!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">I shouldn't be
surprised by the response.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>One, I
started the class with a political piece that goes against his beliefs in the
world issues of today.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Jerry loved the
story.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Oh, well, not the right
audience.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Two, I didn't go deep.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have lost my edge at the moment due to everything
going on in my life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Three, I pulled
every one of the words for all the stories like pulling nails off my
fingers.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It hurt like hell to write
those stories.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I just wanted to do
anything besides write.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No wonder they
were crappy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Where does this leave me
with writing?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Well, I think I will still
write non-fiction for the blog posts.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The fiction I will take slow until life levels out for me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Jerry doesn't want me to quit.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am not promising anything yet.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">I will say that
I have been a bit bored without the writing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Even if I didn't write during the day, I thought about the stories all
the time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now I have only my thoughts
about the world bouncing around.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Not a
great topic at the moment.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am working
at quilting and crocheting.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The house is
a little cleaner than normal as well.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
am still working on de-cluttering.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>With
the beautiful fall, I am even getting out in the yard to do more clean up.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am keeping pretty busy.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">A life change is
hanging over my head.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Once this takes
place, I hope to have a consistent schedule that will enable me to at least
write for the blog.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>November 1st will be
the start of a new focus for me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am
kind of excited.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Actually, I have been
working on the new focus, but I will be going at the new direction with more
gusto.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Until November,
I am not sure that I will be back on the blog.
I am giving myself time to be with family. Last weekend, we picked up Clay and drove to
a family wedding on the Richard side. Tyson
and Carissa, we wish you the very best. This
weekend, Jerry's brothers and mom will be coming to visit. Who knows what will pop up after that! Though I still feel un-tethered, I am
thankful for each new day. Life is meant
for living. And living is change. Bring it on! I am so ready to get this started.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p>Lisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14752403362095757217noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3183385979512765108.post-24673003887636539352020-08-28T08:11:00.000-06:002020-08-28T08:11:10.191-06:00A Dream and the RNC<p><span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-size: x-large;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-size: x-large;">So, I did this
thing yesterday that caused me to have a dream.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>In the dream, I was attending a political convention.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The person speaking was asking questions of
the people.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This person turned to me and
asked about the environment.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I talked
about the harvesting of trees.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Northwestern Montana needed to be able to go back to logging.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The eyes of a man in the crowd brightened up,
and he cheered.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The commentator turned
to another person which made me sad.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
didn't get to talk my favorite topic of my soldiers or my retirement fund.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After the convention, I was asked to run for
a position in the Montana government.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-size: x-large;">The thing I did
to cause the dream was that I watched night 1 of the Republican National
Convention.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have never done this
before.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My husband and daughter talk
politics ALL the time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She worked for Matt
Rosendale earlier this summer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We were
hoping to attend some rallies for him and such before COVID hit.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We went to South Dakota where patriotism
abounds with everything presidential.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
will do a post on that next week.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>All of
these things set me up for dreamland.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-size: x-large;">Now, the last
thing we need in this country is another person being a talking head for the
political machine.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We don't need more
negativity on either side of the aisle.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>We are all tired of the rudeness and negativity.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have been called a small town Montana woman
with the ugly connotation that I am stupid and know nothing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Because of my beliefs, I have been pointed at
as being selfish and ignorant.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yep, I am
a small town Montana woman and proud!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
can be a bonehead at times, and I certainly don't know everything.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I can be selfish and with certain topics I am
ignorant.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>However, I am also giving, knowledgeable,
humble, and smart every now and then.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>With
all of that said, I wanted to point out some interesting things I saw and heard
as I watched night 1.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-size: x-large;">The overall feel
of the night was positive and hopeful.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The convention started with a prayer and almost everyone praised our
country and asked God to continue to bless the U.S.A.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A democrat from Georgia spoke in favor of
President Trump.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That blew me away.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He talked about free thinking, and he likes
the President's track record so far.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The
owner of Mountain Mud Espresso from Billings talked about the quick turn around
for her small business money from the federal government.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Go Montana!!!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Hershel Walker talked of his 37 year friendship with the President and
his family.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Finally, a gentleman who
came here from Cuba and became a citizen spoke.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>His story was very moving and positive, but he worries.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He brought me to tears.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-size: x-large;">I didn't at all
become uncomfortable about the tone of the night.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sure, they talked about their interpretation
of what they consider as Mr. Biden's bad track record in politics.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A few people talked about the basement which
isn't praise, but I am not at all sure what they were talking about.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Of course, they talked about wanting to change
and fix things.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Their way of going about
it is different than the Democrats.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yet,
this was talked about in passing more than anything.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They actually concentrated on President
Trump's track record and how he wants to continue his work.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-size: x-large;">All in all, I
enjoyed the speeches and learning new things.
I loved the patriotism and open talk of God. Now, I do have biases towards the Republican
Party. I would never deny them. Is it the best party? No, but it is the best party for me. Today, I am going to watch night 1 of the
Democratic National Convention. I really
hope to be pleasantly surprised. Will I
switch parties? I highly doubt it. What I want is to be away from the media's,
and frankly obnoxious people's, interpretation and negativity. And yes, I cringe as I write that last sentence. I can be obnoxious as well.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghDRwMnIvltefvbRHCuExzjyMkzuR4vpP8N1xaVqLGg3C63bg3uXiRABCox_AhIV2YKTlnZvaLz5cezE0wEj7qcCCxjo02LbJyGbK7D2c0_DGOwhlKDonCsN3gKXmoUkFHh4AM70KEOzjG/s2000/118211728_3265528380150655_4265502635448063344_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2000" data-original-width="1488" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghDRwMnIvltefvbRHCuExzjyMkzuR4vpP8N1xaVqLGg3C63bg3uXiRABCox_AhIV2YKTlnZvaLz5cezE0wEj7qcCCxjo02LbJyGbK7D2c0_DGOwhlKDonCsN3gKXmoUkFHh4AM70KEOzjG/s640/118211728_3265528380150655_4265502635448063344_n.jpg" /></a></div><br /><span style="color: #f3f3f3; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span><p></p>Lisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14752403362095757217noreply@blogger.com0