Dear Neighbor . . .

 

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 ESTATE LANE, NS
2*C/34*F says it feels like -10*C/12*F
so cold, but clear, for now.

Dear Neighbor,

It is a bit milder out this morning, although in all truth it does not feel like it. My heat pump is blasting away and keeping it toasty in here.  It is much colder by my front door, but I never sit near it.  I am of a mind to buy a heavy curtain to pull across it, but then that would block out some of the light I get in here. That is a very common practice in the U.K. to have a heavy curtain to pull across your door inside the house to help to keep out drafts, and it does work very well.  But again, the light. I only have the one window in the front of the house other than the one in the front door and I am loathe to block any of it.

When we were children, the house would be so cold in the mornings that we would gather around the heating duct in the kitchen to warm our fingers and toes. I can remember being selfish sometimes and holding the bottom of my nightgown over the heating duct so that the heat would warm me from toe to head. Quite smart I thought, but very greedy.  Guilt would always get the better of me and I wouldn't do it for long.

 

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I had posted the following thoughts on my Facebook page last evening and I thought I would also like to share them here.

"How we spend our days is, of course, how we spend our lives. I am reminded daily that today is the proving ground of what I believe and of whom I worship. Our lives are not composed of grand gestures but rather by the small and simple things we do as a matter of course throughout all the days of our lives."

I was sitting on the sofa in a very thoughtful mood and wanted to record these thoughts before I lost them, and so popped them onto my page, but since this blog here is really my online journal, I thought I would record them here as well. I hope you do not mind. It is not something I have not shared in one way or another in the past, but I felt that I had worded it just right and so I shared again . . . 

We are only here on this earth for such a short time, and I have so much to share. The older I get the shorter my time gets and so I want to record these things before it is too late to share them. To what end I am not sure, but perhaps one day someone will find them and see the value in them.

 

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I try to stay really busy and involved as much as possible these days.  I find that if I stop for too long my thoughts can overtake me and I am plunged into the sadness which is always there whispering and licking around my toes.  Most of the time I can cope with them, but every so often the sad thoughts, they take over and I am overcome with sadness and tears.  I feel my heart is quite broken over the email that my youngest son sent me before Christmas and that, whilst I am grateful for the three children that do love and care for me, my heart mourns for the two that do not, and most especially for the one who has drawn the line in the sand. I think it is the not knowing why that gets to me the most and I find myself questioning everything.  Asking myself over and over again, was it that I was not a good enough mother?  Did I not care enough? Where and how did I drop the ball? 

Those are torturous thoughts.  And they torment me at times.  The tears come. Big sloppy soppy tears, streaming down my face. And the cats hover around me not knowing what to do. I hand it over to God, or at least I think that I do, but I must be hanging onto some small corner of it because I keep pulling it back, seemingly unable to let go of it completely.

I did look into some online counseling yesterday, but they wanted $80 a week, four weeks paid in advance.  I don't have that kind of money to spend. Not really and so I must find a way to cope with this deep-set grief that I am bearing on my own. 

And I do recognize it as a kind of grief, layered onto the grief I was already feeling about other things.

I was given some money for Christmas by my father, and I have used some of it to buy myself this book.  The Comfort of Crows by Margaret Renkl.  I am enjoying it ever so much. It reads beautifully, like poetry for the soul. Fifty-two weeks of backyard thoughts. Wonderfully illustrated in color by the author's brother. This book is a gentle reminder to appreciate the beauty around us any time of the year.

Praise Song for the

Coming Budburst

"It looks like a mistake, like something left behind as fall moved into winter. The framework for a leaf gone by, perhaps, or the false start of some living thing that never grew into itself.

It is not a mistake.

There was no error in its planning and none in its purposes.

All winter long the brown bud will sleep. While the cold crow calls into the grey sky, while the wet leaves blacken and begin their return to earth, the brown bud is waiting for its true self to unfold; a beginning that in sleep has already begun."

I share this in order to entice you to get this book for yourself so that you can enjoy it as much as I am enjoying it. It is so, so, so, ME, and how my mind works and thinks. I am loving it, and I think you would also love it.

 

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This frosted rose is so beautiful encased in its crystal casing. You want it to stay like that forever and never warm up because you know that when the ice starts to melt, so will the rose . . . and the beauty you see here will be gone.  Change is inevitable but why . . .  why such beauty that is so fleeting.  Something that, in its very destruction . . .  is so very breathtakingly beautiful. I suppose it is like that with many things. Change comes hard.  The rose will bloom again, despite the hardness of the change, and so will the things of our lives come back into bloom. We just need to be patient in the waiting.

The waiting is the hard part. 

 

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I was able to facetime with my grandson Josh as he opened his birthday card last evening. It was his 16th birthday yesterday.  I was so pleased that my card got there in time. They were enjoying pizza for supper and cake.  He is my scientist grandson, my little ginger, who loves to bake and to do experiments.  He had a very Happy Birthday.

I love that I have had these last four years to get to know these four older grandsons of mine so much better. One of the silver linings in the trauma I experienced has been this. I know them, and they know me, in a way that we never did before. It is a great blessing to me.

I guess sometimes things need to be broken in order for good things to happen.   The seed is planted into the earth which has been broken by the plow.  The seed then grows into wheat, which is broken again . . . and ground into flour. The flour is then baked into bread, that we break open to enjoy . . . 

This teaches me that there is always a purpose in brokenness. We may not see it right away and the breaking can be so very painful, but beauty can come from brokenness. We just need to wait . . . 

Again, with the waiting. Perhaps I am being taught patience.

 

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Just before I woke up this morning, I was dreaming that I was at an all-you-can-eat buffet. I walked along the table putting things onto my plate.  There were thick pink slices of roasted ham, and these golden-brown baked potato halves, butter melting into their crisp surfaces . . .  bright green beans . . . and much, much more. Everything was so vivid and looked so delicious. I awoke before I had a chance to chow down.  Probably a good thing.

I am at an age now where an all-you-can-eat buffet is a waste of money. This is because all-I-can-eat comfortably is not very much. ha-ha Its funny how your appetite changes as you age and seems to decrease. I can remember going to these types of things when I was younger and being able to visit the buffet at least twice before I would be full to the brim. Now I do not think I would even be able to visit it once and try all the things that I would like to try, and I would be really full up. 

I have been craving good Chinese food lately. But where to get it. There are no good Chinese restaurants here where I live any longer.   I can remember liking the Wong Wing Frozen Chinese options when I was younger.  My sister and I bought some for supper not too long after I returned to Canada as they were on special. We thought we would do a Chinese supper.  What a disappointment they were. New and improved . . . they were awful. We said we would never buy them again, and neither of us have.  

I am very fond of the spring rolls you can buy in the grocery store. I think the brand is called SUMM!  They are very good. I buy the vegetable ones.

And with that I best end this missive now and get on with my day.  I am not sure what I will get up to yet.  It remains to be seen. I need to be getting on with a video. We shall see what happens as the day progresses. 

A thought to carry with you . . . 

° * 。 • ˚ ˚ ˛ ˚ ˛ •
•。★★ 。* 。
° 。 ° ˛˚˛ * _Π_____*。*˚
˚ ˛ •˛•˚ */______/~＼。˚ ˚ ˛
˚ ˛ •˛• ˚ ｜ 田田 ｜門 ★

 *.Oh Lord that lends me life,

lend me a heart replete

with thankfulness.° * 。 • ˚ ˚ ˛ ˚ ˛ •

~William Shakespeare° * 。 • ˚ ˚ ˛ ˚ ˛ •

° * 。 • ˚ ˚ ˛ ˚ ˛ •° * 。 • ˚ ˚ ˛ ˚ ˛ •

Sometimes even Shakespear surprises me.

In The Kitchen today  . . .  Cheese & Bacon Turnovers.  Puff pastry schmeared with a good grainy mustard and stuffed with sharp cheddar cheese and streaky smoked bacon.  A most delicious lunch with a cup of hot soup. 

I hope that you have a beautiful day filled with love and beauty. Stay warm. Stay safe. My heart goes out to those in California impacted by those terrible fires.  I pray for safety and rain.   Be well.  Don't forget!

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⊰✿░G░O░D⊰✿⊰L░O░V░E░S⊰✿⊰░Y░O░U░⊰✿
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And I do too!