Thursday, March 3, 2016

a time for every purpose

a.m.



noon


mid-afternoon
I am still in spirit this third day of March.  I consider myself a lady-in-waiting, or a Grandma-to-be in waiting is perhaps the best and most accurate description. After this past weekend, everything on the calendar was accomplished. The precious one has not arrived, so  for now we wait... alongside my very anxious daughter and her even more highly anxious husband. It gives wonderful across the miles telephone conversations each and every day. The plan is when we get the phone call to be in the car within 30 minutes to make the five hour drive in order for me to be with her during the hard labor and delivery. I advise her to  keep busy, plant pansies, make cookies, walk around the library or browse a bookstore, just keep yourself distracted from the obvious. How I recall those days before the birth of each of my children, but I especially think the firstborn has a unique place in that long wait. Time, particularly times of waiting, have such marvelous purpose.

sewing...
     There were a handful of scraps left over from the quilt I made for the baby, so I today they were used  to sew a patched pillow.

reading...
       Women of the Word by Jen Wilkin,  an excellent book of which you can hear an audio sample here.  I hope to lead a Bible study for women in the future.

cooking...(see photo above)
          Green lentils with homemade sauerkraut, this was lunch. I plan to blog about fermenting certain foods in upcoming posts.

housekeeping...
            Cleaned out the two kitchen cupboards that contain my glassware. And keeping up with laundry on a daily basis because we truly do not know when we will get "the call", and something unnerves me about leaving a hamper full of dirty clothes since I will be gone for a week to stay with Rose and new baby.


thinking... 
         Daddy would be 90 years old today. He was buried five years ago yesterday. What I remember the most is standing by the graveside holding on to my two daughters. I vividly remember the poignancy of the moment, how it was not my husband or my brothers or sister that I wanted to hold onto, but my two daughters who had walked this fragile path of caring for him with me during a part of their girlhood. 




roasted chicken

... for supper  Most of my Wednesday mornings are spent rushing from here to there with Charlotte for violin and piano lessons; I hav...