Time for Joy

A Blend-tec. If someone gave me a VitaMix I’d take it happily, but I’d spend my own money on this! Maybe, just maybe, I could keep my sons’ tummies full with it. And they would probably cook everything themselves too. Steven was pretty fascinated with how good the spinach ice cream turned out. And the soup was awesome too—according to him. (He was the only one with me when I went to Sam’s Club today.)

P.S. I might add that this is several thousand dollars cheaper than the last picture! Grrr! Why does the other one have to be necessary and this one a luxury?

Our furnace (with the intermittent problem) is now fixed. One to go:

That silver pipe? The main water line into the house. It’s galvanized steel and will have to be replaced all the way to the water meter by the street. I think the break is under the house so we are hopefully in luck because the insurance would cover that. (Spoken from experience of the sewer break in Kentucky.)

Okay, so things never go as smoothly as wished. Here’s what is running through my mind now.

“The Lesson”

Yes, my fretting,
Frowning child,
I could cross
The room to you
More easily.

But I’ve already
Learned to walk,
So I make you
Come to me.

Let go now—
There!
You see?

Oh, remember
This simple lesson,
Child,
And when
In later years
You cry out
With tight fists
And tears—
“Oh, help me,
God—please.”—
Just listen
And you’ll hear
A silent voice:

I would, child,
I would.
But it’s you,
Not I,
Who needs to try
Godhood.”

–Carol Lynn Pearson

Think I need to learn a little about faith and patience and a few other things along the way?

To My (nearly) Grown-Up Son(s)

My hands were busy through the day,
I didn’t have much time to play

The little games you asked me to.
I didn’t have much time for you.

I’d wash your clothes, I’d sew and cook,
But when you’d bring your picture book

And ask me, please, to share your fun,
I’d say, “A little later, Son.”

I’d tuck you in all safe at night,
And hear your prayers, turn out the light,

Then tiptoe softly to the door.
I wish I’d stayed a minute more.

For life is short, and years rush past,
A little boy grows up so fast.

No longer is he at your side.
His precious secrets to confide.

The picture books are put away,
There are no children’s games to play,

No good-night kiss, no prayers to hear.
That all belongs to yesteryear.

My hands once busy, now lie still
The days are long and hard to fill.

I wish I might go back and do
The little things you asked me to.

—Alice E. Chase

Today began as a most discouraging day with hurtful/thoughtless actions from others outside our home, whether intentional or unintentional, it does not matter.  The effect does matter, and that effect was to cause me to feel pretty lousy about myself and those particular others.  Thankfully I opened my email and read the following poem, and the effect was healing to help me not feel so alone.  Maybe it will help another.

Lest We Forget

She came tonight as I sat alone
The girl that I used to be. . .
And she gazed at me with her earnest eye
And questioned reproachfully:

“Have you forgotten the many plans
And hopes that I had for you?
The great career, the splendid fame
All the wonderful things to do?”

“Where is the mansion of stately height
With all of its gardens rare?
The silken robes that I dreamed for you
And the jewels in your hair?”

And as she spoke, I was very sad,
For I wanted her pleased with me . . .
This slender girl from the shadowy past
The girl that I used to be.

So gently arising, I took her hand,
And guided her up the stair
Where peacefully sleeping, my babies lay
So innocent, sweet and fair.

And I told her that these are my only gems,
And precious they are to me,
That silken robe is my motherhood
Of costly simplicity.

And my mansion of stately height is love,
And the only career I know
Is serving each day in these sheltering walls
For the dear ones who come and go.

And as I spoke to my shadowy guest,
She smiled through her tears at me,
And I saw that the woman that I am now
Pleased the girl that I used to be.

—Anonymous

I decided not to feature these pictures on the 365 Project, but I wanted to share this with family.

The 417 magazine spread with a few of Jim’s pictures of Carrie and Jim Quesenberry’s wedding.  I doubt you can read it this size, but Jim’s name and studio are listed in that box.  I think it’s pretty cool!