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.

Apple Crisp

 Comfort with another twist... food! This is probably one of the surest ways of giving comfort in my home from the eldest to the youngest.  Desserts have become a Sunday only fare in my home for the most part, so I really enjoy trying to find a little extra time to bake a dessert to be served at our Sunday dinner.

Since I was planning on baking with apples, a crisp seemed to stir my fancy. But I was pondering what I could add to the crisp topping to raise it from the "norm" and decrease the sugar amounts which gives some crisps too much sweetness. My pantry supplied a bag of ginger snaps. Perfect to give needed sweetness and provide extra spice too. 

5 apples, peeled and sliced.( I used Gala and Granny Smiths with this crisp- I prefer using at least a variety of two apples).

1/2 teaspoon ground cinnamon

1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract

1/3 cup water

1 cup ginger snaps ground in the food processor

3/4 cup oatmeal

1/3 c flour

pinch of salt

7 tablespoons butter, softened

Prepare apples and place in 13x9 casserole dish. After mixing the cinnamon,vanilla and water together,  sprinkle on sliced apples.

Mix dry ingredients and add softened butter with pastry cutter. Or you can use your hands to disperse the butter throughout the dry ingredients.

Place on top of apples. Bake at 350 degrees for 30-35 minutes. 

Some of us like it served with a scoop of vanilla ice cream, but then some of us like a scoop of ice cream on about every dessert it seems!

cherry blessings

Loneliness. It is not an issue when your name is on the Hospice roles. Visitors and phone calls five days a week all willing to provide succor, care, concern, and support.

Many said it would be hard.

It is.

But they did not say it would have a wondrous red cherry on top.

mercy walk

 I bundled up to take a walk this afternoon just as the sun was hitting the point I like to familiarly call sinking fast.  I stuffed my wool hand-knitted socks into my *Merrells*, pulled a wool hat over my head, covered my hands with fingerless mitts and a pair of red gloves, and without hesitation decided my long black coat would not be a hindrance but would, in fact, be perfect to preserve body heat on this cold  Saturday in January.

My spirit became somewhat pin-pricked this afternoon, therefore, praying and walking was my remedy to restore contentment and peace. Singing songs of praise as I walked, meditating and praying His Word. Like a blanket, a magnitude of peace and grace came floating down from above and landed on me, tears of comfort welled up in my eyes. I could not think of any better place I wanted to be at that time....smack dab in His will.

the winter of my content

Summer is placed at a high level in my life. I love the months of summer, always have and always will. But I must equally note every season holds inimitable fascination for me.

Years ago, I am talking years ago, I read John Steinbeck's The Winter of Our Discontent. I can not really tell you much about the plot of this novel now, I am thinking I was probably in a mode of reading John Steinbeck novels at the time and this just happened to be one on the list.

The title stuck, possibly an overthrow with the quote from Shakespeare's play. Whatever, every winter those words pop into my head. Goes to show how much sticking power the written word has for us. I happen to like the way words sound and how certain ones roll off the tongue with charming effects.

These days I choose to feed myself on truth. The sort that soothes and strengthens and takes me to the places I need to be at any given point in my life.  Words that I desire to pop into my mind and transform me to His image. "... for I have learned to be content whatever the circumstances."  Philippians 4:11

And since I mentioned the reading of novels, I have just began a new novel that I think I will find wonderfully satisfying. The Tenant of Wildfell Hall by Anne Bronte. I appreciate the Bronte sisters' use of words. Upon revisiting Jane Eyre this year, I have moved it to one of my most favorite books. I  hope this one by Anne Bronte proves to be excellent reading as well.

scintillas

One morning while folding a load of laundry that was covering my bed, I glanced outside my bedroom window and saw a sight that riveted my full attention. Shall I say hundreds of drops of moisture were ornamenting my Japanese Maple tree?  

Scintillas of winter's sweetness suspended and creating visual pleasure.