a walk to remember

"I'll fly away, O glory, I'll fly away;
When I die, hallelujah, by and by,
I'll fly away."

After a week of the hospice nurse walking me through what to expect and with manifested realities being the mainstay of our days, Daddy passed away just before midnight last night.

Before bedtime my husband, Rose, Charlotte and I sang hymns to him. He would have sung along if he could have.

I'll Fly Away,
      In the Sweet By and By, 
              When We all Get to Heaven,
                       and Nearer My God to Thee

This morning Charlotte came downstairs, and since her bedroom is just across the hall from where Daddy has lived these past two months, she asked, "Where is Granddaddy?"

"He's in heaven, Charlotte."

We embraced. She will always remember this walk too.

the embroidered pillowcase

Who would have known a pillow would provide such comfort to my dying father? A pillow ensconced in a pillowcase I embroidered when I was about ten years old. Some of the threads are missing and need to be restitched but I could not help smiling when I saw it there this week perched up alongside his sweet face. He made sure every night before we tucked him in that we put that pillow on his left side.


Dying is laborious work. I take any pearls and smiles I can find in this journey.

a purse for Charlotte

While in my favorite fabric store several months back, Charlotte and I spotted a purse pattern. Then we spotted the fabric! It has only taken me this long to complete it for her.

The inside of the purse twitters too, a side pocket to hold lip gloss, every girls need for chapstick remedied.

Bird themes carry lavish favor with me.

Happy Valentines Day

From my house to yours!

morning sashay

An early morning in my life.

While the household sleeps, I stir from my warm bed, slipping my bare arms into a warm robe and my chilly feet into fuzzy slippers. It is dark, or maybe the beginnings of hazy light around the edges can be seen. I push the thermostat button up a notch or two and welcome its gentle whoosh as it comes on, it begins to feel warmer already.

I drink a full glass of lukewarm water mixed with Green Magma Plus while stretching with ballet-type leg stretches, body posture erect, in front of the kitchen sink. If the coffee was not preset the night before, I begin filling the coffee maker with eight cups of cold water then stuffing a brown filter into the holder and filling it with seven rounded scoops of dark roast coffee.

I make an immediate beehive to the sunroom, the most beneficial part of my day is about to begin.  Usually there is still not enough light to read by, but soon the unfolding of the day gives an ethereous display outside the glass windows. A time of praise, song, and prayer to a living GOD. I read His Word and open my journal to record whatever may be on my heart and mind that morning.

Comfortably familiar.

on making beds and boiling eggs

Offense would not be taken if someone defined my life as prosaic. Because in some ways my daily routines could be truly described as such. Yet the opportunities and potential for fruitfulness is only fingers away.  To even think about trading my days doing other things creates a disconcerted edge in my soul.

In a day's work I most certainly have duties and responsibilities, but the value of the work that I do over the course of a day can be very rewarding and rich indeed. It allows for imagination and creativity beyond and back if I am so inclined to look for it.

 "Too often nowadays people feel that taking time for the ordinary everyday aspect of life and home is a waste of time."

Susan Schaeffer Macaulay

For The Family's Sake

 

Therefore, after having afternoon tea with my daughters comes the hand washing of a teapot. It allows breathing room in my day while gazing outside my kitchen window. If not conversing with my daughters while gently swishing the soapy water in the china teapot, I settle my mind with this simple act of ordinariness.

Quite exceptional work altogether.