Sweaters, Sawdust and Storage

I might wear it this year

probably not

what was I thinking?         

If I lose 10 pounds..

fat jeans...

How old is this?

Really?

I LOVE THIS!

I forgot I had this!

These thoughts ramble through my head as my closet gets switched from summer to fall.   Going through my things is hard.  I don't want to throw things out.  I'm in there forever and the bag of clothes actually making it to Goodwill might take me a few weeks. 

Hey, I paid good money for those things!

Those '80's jumpers fit so well...

Gregg's clothes are much easier to go through.  I'm done in no time.  He doesn't even miss anything.  He wears whatever's on top.  Sometimes, I purposely hide certain shirts just so he won't wear them every 3rd day. 

Since my daughters have been on their own, I've been called to help with closet overgrowth.  I went in like a child in a candy store, ready and eager!  It's so easy to purge and clean out someone else's junk.  If I could just quiet my endless carping...

That's too short!

that's too low!

you've had this since 7th grade!

isn't this your sister's?

do you really need this many tank tops?

Mirrors are required to properly see yourself.  They tell the truth. 

Many years ago when I was in junior high and Joanie had just started teaching, Aunt Evelyn and Uncle Dick went on vacation and I wanted to stay with Joanie.  Together we made this chocolate cake but it didn't come out of the pan as expected.  No matter, because we covered it with a creamy glaze and it was about the best cake I've ever had. 

Life doesn't work that way, even though we try.  A creamy, white glaze covers our junk and we think it's hidden, meanwhile, everywhere we look we can't help but see others' short-comings.  And goodness knows, they need our help!  Bless their hearts!  (Ahh that sickly sweet aroma of benzoin.)

Christ, Himself, stated, "Why do you look at the speck of sawdust in your brother's eye and pay no attention to the plank in your own eye?  How can you say to your brothers, 'Let me take the speck out of your eye,' when all the time there is a plank in your own eye?  You hypocrite, first take the plank out of your own eye and then you will see clearly to remove the speck from your brother's eye." 

Jesus, the carpenter, knows a thing or two about sawdust. 

He called me a hypocrite?  Ouch! 

My plank, (a passion for criticism), is huge and leaves splinters, scrapes and bruises.  In spite of that, I still tote it around.  Hard-headed, stiff-necked people, hmmm, that would be me.

Besides the obvious and overwhelming influence and power of the Holy Spirit, do you ever wonder how else Paul was able to accomplish so much?  He had a good friend called Barnabus, Son of Encouragement.  (Acts 4:36) 

Who needs criticism and who am I to give it?  Instead, starting today, I'll leave a trail of encouragement? 

Meanwhile, I'm signing up for a plankectomy.

Digging deep and reaching high.

Alongside

I hate sweating!  Don't know how I managed to grow up in eastern NC and hate it so, but I do.  Working alongside my fellow is another story.  Now, he would tell you that I still complained and quit, WAY before he did, but while I was out there, it was good. 

We are clearing off a small piece of our lot that was on the other side of our fence, where the grass is not greener, by the way.  By small, I mean an area about 20 feet deep and maybe 75 feet wide.  When I say clearing, I mean the kind of clearing with our hands, a rake, pruning shears and a small electric chain saw.  Perplexing, the toughness of twenty year old vines.  We chopped, pulled, dug up and then burned vines for 2 days.  Loosed dogwoods whispered "thank yous" as they straightened themselves up just a bit.  

There's something about accomplishment, ownership and reaching goals with the one person who knows you best. The one person who doesn't mind seeing you sweat.

All that sweating together made me think about my grandparents, who worked alongside one another for so many years.  I don't think my grandmother had a choice honestly, but more than likely, she wouldn't have had it any other way.  I think she liked being his partner in every sense of the word.  The last time I saw her standing on legs that supported her perfect frame, she and her fellow were chopping peanuts together on an 80+ degree day in May.  Bothered that they were out in mid-day's sun, yet; a part of me wanted to freeze that moment with a picture.  With regret, I gaze back at another notion not followed through.  How absurd, that I felt I could tell them, a couple whose lives had been spent working alongside one another in the sweltering fields, that they should not be there.





Together we live life...minute by minute.

Stories of prairie women have forever captivated me.  With skirts tied, they chopped wood, fed livestock, built fires, walked behind mules...all while raising children. 



Alongside. 



They simply did the thang.  No 'Dr Phil' show to make them feel neglected nor the constant status updates from Facebook to keep them occupied.  True American, bonnet-wearing heroes! 



Genesis 2:18 talks about the need for a "helpmeet" as per the KJV or "help suitable" per NIV, for man.  It is the Bible's first mention of a wife.  This term refers to "a woman, as a helper, precisely adapted to man".  Precisely, suitably, adapted... as a partner.  Not a slave or another animal for Adam to have dominion over.  No indication of subordination.  The Hebrew word, "ezer",  or help, means to surround, protect, aid and support.  A constant work in balance between strengths and weaknesses between him and her.  Ebb and flow.  A yielding and obedience that only love can explain.




Yes, even on those days.  You know the ones.  Days your tank is on empty and you feel like you have nothing else to give. 





Iron sharpening iron.



Alongside,




living out life, whatever it may be. 



Shuffling children,



Juggling bills,



Scrubbing toilets,



Walking dogs,



Saying "I'm sorry"



Or love's final act;

Gripping an aged-spotted hand as earthly flesh is abandoned to don heavenly robes.




Alongside...help, suitable


Where you are may seem dark and dreary, even hopeless.    Been there 
Is it ever too late to start over?    Not as long as you have breath
Do any of us get it perfect?   absolutely not!
Where do I start?     Prayer
What will I teach my girls by treating my husband this way?  God's perfect plan

Impressive fire pit, don't you think?

Digging deep, reaching high

Do you remember?

Do you remember that day?  What you were doing, where you were?  Remember how you watched TV, non-stop because you just couldn't turn it off, or look away, even though it hurt...DOWN DEEP?  How you kept your teenagers home and they didn't argue?  Met at churches and prayed?  Sobbed like a baby the 1st time you tried to sing the Star Spangled Banner after the attack? 

Now it's that time of year again, when the weather is more than perfect and the skies are bluer than ever.  and we all pause to remember.  Once a year, we shed tears again and learn more about the people who lost loved ones that day. 

A few days ago, I listened to the story of a man who lost his wife that morning.  It was her first day back at work after maternity leave.  That crude, horrid act of a terrorist, left a 9 week old and a 2 year old without a mom and the inability to ever remember her on their on accord.  "Hate" left a man to mourn, pick up the pieces and to begin life as a single parent.  On September 11th, we reminisce how our lives were changed and our country assaulted. 

They, live it everyday. 

Yeah, we got problems, big ones.  Our leaders are so wrapped up in politics and re-elections and their own agendas they can't take care of what we sent them to Washington to do.  Financially, the outlook is grim.  Health care is beyond my comprehension.  We still have soldiers in harm's way.  The education of our children is no longer a priority in many homes.  Hurricanes and forest fires have ravaged both coasts.  Our Atlanta station showed how Georgia is in a state of drought, with the southern parts now enduring a severe drought.  All the while, today, I looked at my friend's pictures of the river in her Pennsylvania town spilling over throughout the city and I said prayers. 

People devastated, losing everything. 

I watched clips this morning and listened as people told their stories. Mayor Giuliani and President Bush reflected, both, even now, with big lumps in their throat. Matt Lauer took the audience as he toured the One World Trade Center under construction. It is to be the country's tallest building.  Soaring over the beautiful New York city skyline, they showed the view, and it was breath-taking.  One man has worked there consistently through the last 10 years on different crews, doing clean-up and construction.  He hasn't left.  His brother died there and his body, never found.  Working on this architectural tower-of-all-towers gives him healing. 

The symbolic height of this building set every patriotic cell of my being on fire. They tore it down, we built it back...bigger and better, all 1776 feet. 

USA USA USA!!

Hollywood can't make a movie this good

Isaiah 40:31
but those who hope in the LORD will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint.

God, renew us as a nation under You.  Rebuild as a nation seeking You.  Start with me.

 

What's that smell?

Isn't it interesting that when you smell something foul and you look for it long enough, you find it on your shoe?  Last night, I walked out into the dark backyard wearing my comfy bedroom shoes with Reagan.  Walking across the deck, I noticed it, that familiar 'bouquet'.  Leaving my bedroom shoes on the deck, frustrated, I came back inside.  At bedtime, I borrowed Gregg's shoes for a last 'chance' outside for the dogs.  I borrowed the pair he left conveniently at the back door, his favorite pair.  I had to leave those outside also.  What was I thinking, walking out into the night-time landmine that has become our backyard?

Is there a life application here?  Maybe so, if something stinks, check your shoes, you could be the one spreading it all around. 

Then there's the smell of fresh.  How do you bottle that?  Oh, the Glade company keeps trying.  It's 65 degrees outside right now.  Windows open, curtains rustling, and I'm a tad chilly.  Welcome back Autumn, how I've missed you.   Sheets are spinning in the washer now.  If it weren't for a neighborhood association opposed to clotheslines, those sheets would be flapping in the wind soon. 

That's an aroma worth sharing.

Smells do that.  Get us remembering, bring us comfort.  Make us think, "I want that."

I stalked several old women around a mall one Saturday simply because I caught a whiff of Adorn hairspray.  I wanted to smell my grandmother again.  Every December, people are willing to bring a fresh cut evergreen into their home for the simple fragrance of Christmas.   In spite of the vacuuming, watering and limbs that don't support ornaments, there's that smell that can't be duplicated.  It welcomes you home night after dark, December, dead of winter, night.  It's worth it.

Are you fragrant? 

When you walk out of a room what kind of an aroma do you leave?  (to all my family members who want to insert bathroom humor here, please resist the urge) We all leave one.  Maybe not necessarily stimulating the human olfactory nerve, yet still an aroma. 

Hopefully, an aroma that leaves everyone saying, "I want that."

 II Corinthians 2:15  "For we are a sweet aroma of Christ to God among those who are being saved and among those who are perishing."

Here's hoping that today you'll leave a sweet aroma.  If not, make sure you check your shoes.

Digging deep, reaching high.

sleeping cats and dogs

When you get married and start a family, you may notice that your bed develops a revolving door.  Oh no, not "that kind", but one that proclaims that your bed is the primo spot in the house.  When they were scared, it's where they came.  In times of sickness, it had healin' powers.  Thunderstorms called them boldly down the hall.  Saturday mornings, when little ones didn't want to sleep but parents did, it became our place for cereal and cartoons.  The ideal mooring for everything from tickles to prayers, and storytime to late night confessions.  

Linsey liked to sleep with her feet lodged in my spine and her head wedged between her dad's shoulder blades.  Casey and Teri were snugglers, which meant numb arms and sore necks the next day.  Maybe not the best sleep for Gregg and me, but what treasured memories.  Now Kati Beth has taken on the sleeping habits of her Aunt Linsey when she joins Granddaddy and Mimi in our bed.  How I love those sweet feet in my back!

Now our bed has gone to the dogs.

Truman likes to burrow.  Deep under the covers, digging, circling until he settles and then sleeps...until he gets hot, then he comes up for air.  This goes on all night. about every 15 minutes or so it seems.  Reagan is a nuzzler but she's also a puppy.  I sleep with one eye open, halfway afraid she might confuse my covers for the grass of my backyard. 

So tuck all this in the same bed, along with the nocturnal tendencies of Zoey, the cat, and my doc wonders why I need Ambien. 

and then there's  me_o___se.  Not saying it outloud.  Wouldn't be right.  Could it get hotter? 

(I shouldn't say that where Texans can read this, or even folks from eastern NC.)

But, it's hot!  I woke up yesterday morning almost having a panic attack.  Sweating, kicking sheets, all the while being spooned by canines on either side and a cat on my neck.  AAAhhhhh!  I'm hot!  Everybody off!  NOW!!! 

They look at me like sad, abused children.  "We were just snuggling mom... "

Thankfully, they are forgiving and back spooning again and my hot flash has subsided...for now.