for several reasons.  For one, I made progress in the garage.  I just took a garbage can out for pickup tomorrow and it weighed a ton. A ton of old, rusty nails and screws and bolts are no longer taking up space on the shelf. Feels wonderful.
A bonus; I also found a couple of things we were looking for, again. My only regretful thought is that maybe I could have recycled some of the metal – but it would have been hard to sort out the different kinds.

I’m not a rabid fan of classical music but the right piece can really mean a lot to me.  I have always liked a song from Mendelsohn’s “Elijah” oratorio called “Lift Thine Eyes” and today I got to sing it along with two of my friends.  It is acapella and somewhat challenging but I was happy with the way we did it.  My friends are seasoned singers and there were no nervous snags or goof-ups. It doesn’t always happen but our voices blended really well, and this is the first time we’ve ever sung together.  The music itself is really beautiful – the kind you want to shut your eyes and listen to. Lots of people have heard this song before and many came up to us and said it brought back memories of their times in college chorales and similar venues. And the message in the words make it even more meaningful when you believe them, as I do. The words are from Psalm 121. 

I lift up my eyes to the hills –
where does my help come from
My help comes from the Lord,
the Maker of heaven and earth.

He will not let your foot slip –
he who watches over you will not slumber;
Indeed, he who watches over Israel
will neither slumber nor sleep.

And here is one of the most interesting You-tube performances that I found of it – a British group called All Angels.  They have young voices and ours were more mature sounding but we did it very much like they did as far as the interpretation.  It was sooo much fun to do something I loved and do it well.

All Angels “Lift Thine Eyes”

I know I haven’t posted in a while but honestly, I am thinking.  I have some important things on my mind but sometimes I want to try them out privately and see if I like the way I’ve said it. Sometimes I don’t even know what I think exactly until I try to write it. Especially when I’m writing about something more important than how the garden is doing or my silly clothes, I like to wait for inspiration too.  Inspiration can produce something relevant in words or it can also prompt me to shut up. Believe me, there are lots of things I’m glad I didn’t write or say. 

Tonight we had a dinner guest – Carroll brought a friend who was staying at his house for a couple days after visiting relatives on the other coast. We enjoyed her visit, her lovely smile and interesting stories. We met her service dog, a beautiful Doberman she had trained herself. The whole evening there was no mention of her two bouts of cancer that had nearly done her in, her time spent in a coma near death, having to relearn walking and talking. There was enough to talk about without any of that coming up because she loves to ride horses, train dogs and travel.  Her speech was a little different but her obvious intelligence and her expressive ways and enthusiasm more than made up for the deliberateness and slowness. She didn’t have a lot of hair, but like I said, she had a gorgeous smile and pretty face. She wears a scarf.  She enjoys her life. She’s going on. Good woman.

And I’m getting ready for another week to go whizzing by at work.  A new nurse is training tomorrow and that is always interesting. Monday will go fast. There is music to practice this week. (As long as I’m on trivia – my garden is doing great.) I’m still working on the garage, sorting bolts and nails. And every day I’m thinking.

I just noticed that I’ve worn smooth the textured surface of my alphabet keys on my computer. I can tell which ones I use most. I like to write (type). But I also like to get some sleep at night so, good night.  

I am here in my favorite place, home, at my favorite time of day, morning. I’ve just been outside to tweak the irrigation system which is running today. It is cool – 52 degrees – which is rare and lovely. I am wearing my favorite long sleeved shirt and my favorite sweatshirt which I hardly ever get to wear because it is usually too hot. Yesterday Joe the Mexican and I raked leaves and trimmed bushes and trees leaving a peacefulness and order in the oneacrewoods that is almost painfully sweet to look at. I know I’ll have to leave this place someday but it’s too hard to think about, so at least for today, I won’t think about it.

After working yesterday I did one of my favorite things for supper.  I started a fire in the backyard and had the men (Dennis and Carroll) roast hot dogs for us.  Joe stayed to eat with us – me and the guys, one of my favorite small crowds.  (I say this because I can pretty much count on them never complaining about any food that is served. Well, because I like them too.) And this morning I’m having my early cup of coffee in my favorite mug, accompanied by my favorite toasted cranberry walnut bread from Publix. I’ve just read a few chapters in my favorite book. My life is filled with favorites. I am favored and thankful.



Newly trimmed orange tree, and the rose and rosemary garden




Shade shed – didn’t really clean up here but I like it a little messy



Tuesday morning – I’m the only one up. It’s still dark. Feed the cat. Off to work
Tuesday noon – check emails, delete 20 ads, nothing personal.
Tuesday 4 pm – finally home, pet cat, no notes or voice mails.
Tuesday 8 pm – wondering if someone has kidnapped my husband, should I expect ransom note?

He did eventually show up at 9:30, having gone straight to band after work. I probably wouldn’t have been so aware of the empty house if I had known he wouldn’t be there for supper. We usually know where the other is. This leads me down several thought paths but specifically thoughts about waiting. And interestingly, my Bible study course last week had some good insights into the subject that I think are worth sharing.

“Waiting provides the excitement of anticipation and pleasure of curiousity.” I remember a time that we planned to visit St. Augustine for an anniversary (or maybe it was a business trip – more likely). I checked out a couple books from the library and learned a lot about the city. I even saw pictures of a bed and breakfast place that I wanted to stay in and restaurants that I wanted to check out. We never went but I feel almost like it happened and the learning and anticipation was sweet.

“Waiting provides time for productivity” and I know about this one for sure.  The first few years of our marriage I always carried needlework with me everywhere I went with my husband. He was always getting involved in conversations with people while I waited, and waited,… I finished a quilt top in that time.  And every morning my commute of 13 miles takes at least half an hour – half that time is spent waiting for the light to change. I have things I do during that time that help me wait patiently because I’m not wasting the time.  What do you do while you’re stopped in traffic?

“Planning and waiting heightens appreciation”. Yes, take, for instance, waiting for one’s day off from work. I make plans how I’m going to spend it and am thinking about it a lot. When it comes I am so aware of it and much appreciative. Like today, my plans to see a friend for lunch have been in my thoughs all week. I am loving today.

“Waiting can be a protection.” The lesson highlighted waiting in relationships. The present culture scoffs at waiting for anything and tells us in every imaginable way that if it feels good, do it and do it now. I see that to be a proven, direct path to trouble.  Waiting allows time to check what we think to be true. Waiting gives time for error to become apparent. Waiting lets the red light runner get through the intersection without having to go through your car (and you).

“Waiting patiently indicates maturity”.  Waiting is practicing patience and you can get better at it with practice. You can even start to enjoy waiting when it used to annoy. It is a way to tell God that you trust his timing and thank him for it. And it can produce peace in the middle of very trying wait experiences. My new favorite phrase “hey, wait a minute…”

I am both a mother and a child. I was thinking about my two roles and the amount of time I spend in each of them and a couple of points came clear to me. They may not be everyone’s experience.

Over a period of years, parents (and in my case me, as a mom) create a habit of thinking about their children. They say if you can repeat something for what, thirty days, it becomes a habit? Well, living and interacting with my children that were raised in my home created a habit that is very hard to change. I think about my daughters multiple times every day. I don’t have to do anything for them anymore, they don’t live near enough for me to see them often, there is no reason for me to have to think about them, but I do. I miss them.

In my life as a child I didn’t have to think about my parents very much. I had the habit of being with them and I did miss them when I moved away, but I never had responsibility for their welfare and didn’t habitually think about them. I was always kind of busy building my own life and doing new things. I think they call it self absorption. My sense of family connectedness came about because it was always so wonderful to have somebody who wanted to know what I was doing. My grandparents and parents were always there waiting to hear from me and happy when they did.

My conclusion is that parents think about their children much more than their children think about them.  At this stage of my life I am hoping to make a more equal adjustment in my roles, and not that I’m wanting to think less about my daughters but I want to think more about my parents. I appreciate them more. I’m aware that I may, at some point, be able to offer them help that they need. Although my days with them have always been numbered, now I’m aware of how small the number may be.

My experience with family goes farther, kind of repeats itself in the spiritual realm. I believe God thinks about me much more than I think about him. I see how very much like a child I am (the self absorption thing again) in my thinking toward my Father in a larger, more eternal sense. I’m reading about beginnings in Genesis – stories that I’ve heard since I was a child in Sunday school.  One of the characteristics of God that stands out to me now is how responsive he was to the men and women who kept him in mind. He looked forward to their communication with him and blessed them against all odds.

 I used to wonder how firstborn Esau could sell his rights to a double portion of inheritance (and his father was rich) for a bowl of stew – he probably just didn’t spend much time thinking about it. He was his father’s favorite and probably figured Dad would fix everything for him later.  I have a lot more in common with Esau than I’d like to think. For one, I have an inheritance coming that’s literally out of this world. Secondly, I don’t spend nearly enough time thinking about it and respecting it. But I am growing up and giving more time to this parent as well.

My maternal grandparents John and Clementine, in picture on the wall, Me, holding Esther and Dennis in back row My Mother Gwen, Julia, my paternal grandfather Roy, my Dad Owen taken in 1982

I have always loved how God teaches me about himself through family life here and now. Thankful.



This cupboard will be the worst… just sayin”



The spiritually painful part is that I have to question why we let it get into such a state. That one’s heart and mind could look like one’s garage is a frightening possibility. It’s mostly a failure to deal with problems when they present themselves – thinking that they will go away? solve themselves? I don’t know. It’s a brand of laziness that refuses to make a decision and throw something away.  It masquerades as thrift.



Honestly, we have tried to sell lots of this stuff.



I’ve actually been working two days to get to this point.

I have many fortuitous moments in an average week. They are small but they keep me cheered up – like happening to open my blog page at the exact time I was 3 pageviews away from 7,000.

Two days ago I shared a moment with my employer. Actually I wasn’t there but I was part of creating the moment.  I had baked blueberry muffins for her that morning and set one out for her lunch. She had told me to take one home but I forgot it on the kitchen counter.  The next day she told me that later in the day she had a terrible low blood sugar episode, so bad she called someone just to have them on the phone in case she blacked out. Wishing she had another muffin she made her way to the kitchen, and there one was! On the counter where she could reach it! It was like the heavens opened and God was smiling down.

The muffin was great, the whole experience was greater.  I remembered thinking as I drove home that day, “dang, I forgot my muffin. Well, if it bothers her too much, sitting out on the counter, she can just eat it.” And she did.

There’s more than one way to do most everything.  There’s more than one way to get yard work done.  The most common one in my experience is to do it yourself.  I’m getting more familiar with a second way which is to pay someone else to do it. Sometimes it doesn’t make sense to pay someone to do your favorite job for you while you do something else that you don’t like as much and that is kind of what is happening now, but I see no other way around it.  It’s sad.

I was feeling hopelessly overwhelmed with chores in the oneacrewoods when Joe appeared at the door looking for work. I guess I was impressed that he was out, on his bicycle actively looking, not afraid to query strangers.  I took his phone number and the next day I called.  I’m not quite as trusting as this sounds so far – he had actually been to our house before working with someone else that we knew and trusted. Joe was at our door because this person suggested he offer to work for us.  Yesterday Joe cleaned out all the gutters around the house. There are a lot of them and they were full of leaves. Today he cleaned out a fern bed that had grown very unruly over the past year.  He has a good eye and I’m beginning to like the way he finishes off a job. He’s interested in the different plants I have around the place and asks questions.

I guess I’m a little worried about whether I can afford the luxury of a gardener…  But, until I know I can’t I’m going to go with it.  I’m redistributing wealth which is a very popular thing these days. God seems to be taking care of my needs, and the others who depend on me financially, plus the whole thing just feels right. 

I have to go to work tonight. We have lost another employee – gone without giving notice.  I would be angry with the departing person except I totally understand how she feels and have been in nearly the same place, more than once. But I’m praying for the ability to extend grace, as it has been extended to me time and time again. I will get twice as many hours for this night shift as I do for my usual day shift and I think God knows I need the money.  He knows I need to pay my gardener. Just sayin’.

As a result of a couple of things I’ve read lately (and a couple of people crossing my path) I have come to realize that I spend almost no time at all thinking about the subject of feminism.  I never have.  For starters, I have an aversion to lots of things classified as “isms”.  The word  “feminism” seems much more angry and repugnant than the word “feminine” which I have nothing against. I guess I have heard so many talking heads in the media arguing rudely with each other about sexism, racism, marxism, socialism, feminism, etc… that all those classifications fall into the categories of unhelpful and divisive.  At least in my mind they do.

Secondly, I think I have just been busy seeing the world through the only pair of eyes that I have. I haven’t been wishing that I could be something other than what I was since I am fully engaged in being what I am. It’s enough. I suppose if I put high priority on material things I might feel angry that men earn higher wages than women doing the same work in some cases.  But how much is earned has little to do with how much the work is enjoyed, and that is always what has mattered more to me.  My observation is that men and women have equal access to being miserable, unfulfilled and depressed about what they are or are not.  Equal access to being happy, content with circumstances and productive. It seems to me a matter of personal attitude, period.

I have one area of thought that might have a feminist ring to it – that is frustration over trying to fix value to the jobs of childrearing and homemaking, which often have no monetary reward. I say often, because you do see instances in movies and real life where people with a need will pay almost anything for someone skilled to come in a take the job of a spouse they’ve lost. Or you hear about the valued, trusted housekeeper or nanny who is the equivalent of an executive secretary – a Mary Poppins if you will, or a Mrs. Doubtfire.  But think about it – if we really valued those positions wouldn’t there be someplace where they taught the necessary skills to be good at them? And not just for women but for men as well? No, it’s pretty much left up to on-the-job learning, or self-help books, or trial and error. And there’s all too much error going on and the stakes are much higher than we are willing to admit. I am a little bit concerned about being elderly and in the care of a generation of people who have been disregarded, neglected, often used and abused, and don’t have a lot of examples in their lives of how to care for and love people. I feel cultural remorse over this.

But I see both men and women who are willing to undervalue raising the future generation, so it’s not a gender issue to me. I think I have recovered from past feelings of low self worth, thinking that time was wasted when I was making a home for my husband and children.  I think it was the most important thing I could have done (and I probably should have done more of it).

I love being who I am and will not waste time envying those who are other than me. I would also say that it makes me very happy to be around people who also enjoy who they are – be they male or female.  Just sayin…

For anyone who wants to be a homeowner (and isn’t yet) please know that homes do not do anything by themselves except deteriorate.  It is entirely up to their people to do everything for them – they are dependent, like a young child or a pet.  Today after work I worked on the outside of the house cleaning gutters and mowing the lawn.  It is spring here in Florida but since spring is when live oak trees shed their leaves, it is also fall.  Fall in the spring.  Mowing the lawn is almost like cutting hay in a field, except it’s furrows of leaves you end up with instead of hay.

We have close to 30 trees in the oneacrewoods, most of them oaks, and the leaf fall goes on for about six weeks, at least.  The new crop of leaves pushes the old ones off, and acorns drop at the same time.  This makes a tremendous amount of mess and it is my least favorite thing about having a yard full of shade trees.  What do you do with all these leaves? This is a question I have wrestled with for many years  and the best thing I’ve come up with is just to pile them somewhere and let them rot.  I use leaves for mulch wherever possible, and they look good enough but are terrible for sticking to your shoes and coming in the house with you.  I pile them around the base of their tree, or put them in a pile by the garden for comoposting. But there are really too many even for those uses. I have to blow them off the roofs and scoop them out of the gutters. It’s awful.

So after work, and then working more after work, I was tired. I was even glad that music practice was cancelled tonight so that I could be tired at home instead of someplace else.  So as I was fixing supper (which is also work) the husband comes home and guess what? He is tired. In my mind it is almost like a rule that only one person can be tired at a time. Whenever you or I start complaining about being tired, face it, it’s because we figure someone else might take care of us, or at least not make us do any more work.  Between my employer, who is always tired first before I get to say anything, and my husband who is tired the minute he steps in the door, I never get to be the tired one. Not fair. And it’s not as much fun to be tired in secret and not tell anyone. Just sayin…