Gathering in April

This month's gathering in which I join Cheryl at Thinking About Home for her monthly link up is slightly different than previous months.  Although this doesn't strictly follow the "rules" that she outlined, I think I know Cheryl well enough to know that she won't mind... just this once.

April has been a month of moments holding great joy for me.  I don't use the word joy lightly since it is not only a word that Scripture attaches holy meaning to, but it was also my mother's name.  So I say JOY with its fullest span of meaning.


So many moments that string together to make a season...

** that moment when I took off a pair of jeans, knowing I'd never wear them again because they are way too big.

**that moment when I whispered "Help me" to a friend and she immediately covered me with prayer and spoke live-giving words.

**that moment when that same friend called and said "We are moving.  In three days," and my ability to rejoice for their opportunity overshadowed the sorrow I felt at our separation.

**that moment when I stood atop a massive pile of composted horse manure and laughed out loud at this unexpected development in my life.

**that moment when my 2-year-old twin grandsons locked their arms around my neck, not wanting me to leave, and saying "Mommaw" over and over.

**that moment when I was about to take a deep drink from that pit called Anxiety and a notecard arrived in the mail with knowing, meaningful words of encouragement written inside.

**that moment when my husband gave me a look that means the same thing it has always meant but seeing nearly 26 years of depth supporting it.

**that moment when a friend and I shared an afternoon of laughter over a couple cups of tea out on her patio in the spring sunshine.

**that moment when a bad situation took a turn for the worse and a sense of peace flooded into my mind as a balm for the stinging.

**that moment when  a root of bitterness released its grip on my heart and I felt the full impact of love flow into that space.

**that moment when an old fear turned into a new confidence.

**that moment when I leaned into the discomfort of true vulnerability that forged a stronger bond with both old and new friends.

**that moment when I realized that I am developing a trust response toward God in stressful seasons.

**that moment when the scent of lilacs reminded me to appreciate the simple things.

All I can say now is... May has some big shoes to fill. 

Yellow Dishes and Smoocheroos for Hubby

I have been looking for special occasion dinner plates for about, oh, 20 years now.  I could never find any that I thought I wouldn't get bored with so I just kept using the plain white Corelle that  I bought the year after I got married.  That was almost 25 years ago.

I never really searched for new plates, just browsed about if I saw something that looked interesting.  Then one day I saw a couple boxes of dish sets sitting on a clearance shelf and said "Yep, that's what I want."  My husband agreed so we bought them.  I love the color.  Yellow.  Which is odd because I am not typically drawn it.  But this particular shade of yellow is a bit more neutral than others and will work quite well with all sorts of accent dishes.

Aren't they pretty?  I just love 'em!  And the flowers?  A nice "welcome home" gift from my Hubby after returning from an overnight visit somewhere.  What can I say?  He misses me when I'm gone.  That's not to say that he isn't delighted to see me go sometimes but that is for another post.

I've kept the new dishes in their boxes all these months because I didn't have a place for them on any shelf or in any cabinet.  After the kids moved out I had much more space to spread out and I had the perfect spot for them.  I placed the mugs, bowls, small plates, and dinner plates in said perfect spot and closed the door.  

Almost.

The large plates stuck out about an inch past where they should have!  I think I said  "You have GOT to be kidding me!" a little more forcefully than I had intended because my husband and daughter were quite concerned that I may have just lost $1,000 or something major like that.

Months of waiting and they didn't fit!  So I Googled plate racks.  I must've looked at 50 or more styles but none of them would work since they weren't angled correctly for my needs.  This had nothing to do with preference.  The plates had to be at an angle to fit.

My husband offered to build one for me but... well... see... how do I say this gently?  He doesn't always listen to what I need for him to build.  He builds for me what he thinks I want him to build for me rather than what I meticulously describe.  This has caused many an argument over the last 25 years.  One of which happened just a few weeks ago where I vowed and declared that I would never let him build another thing for me... ever! 

I like functional things to be plain, no frills.  My husband likes to add "touches".  Just extras that he thinks will enhance it to better meet my needs.  He would have made an excellent Victorian.  My natural inclination to keep things Spartan tends to make cave dwellers look a bit frou-frou.  And the ones who had those stick figures on the walls?  Pretentious!

I completely rejected was hesitant to accept his kind offer and kept looking despite his promise to keep it simple.

Now to make a long story slightly shorter I'll skip some minor details.  We compromised (that's what you do when all else fails, right?) and decided to go with purchasing a plain dish rack for him to disassemble and put back together at the needed angle.  Then we found out how much it would cost... upwards of $40!  NO THANK YOU! (**See Note at bottom**)

Isn't it amazing how the exorbitant cost of something can increase your faith in your husband's promise to deliver?  So I gave him the okay to build it... along with meticulous instructions.

Here it is, friends.  My plain dish rack.  It fits and is EXACTLY what I asked for.  Not one single frou to be found.  I danced!  I clapped my hands!  I gave my man a big ol' smoocheroo right then and there, and declared it to be perfect!  And it cost less than $10 even when you figure in the sales tax and the small amount of paint that he already had on hand.

 

And the door completely closes!

  
**Note** We would have needed to purchase 2 racks at $20-25 each (plus shipping) in order for it to hold all 8 plates.

This blog post is linked up to

A Nest of Their Own

Our son and his wife moved in with us early February, 2012 when we found out they were expecting twins.  This was to afford them the ability to save some money to purchase their own house and allow my daughter-in-law to continue her college education without having to work outside the home.  This kind of arrangement has become more common, a sign of the times.  I think it is called the "Boomerang Generation"-- adult children moving back in with their parents after having been on their own for a time.

Zachary, our son, had moved out a few years earlier when he was 18.  He and his wife had rented an apartment and then a small house before moving into our renovated garage.  NOT the ideal situation for any of us, but affordable and with built-in babysitters!  Armed with good intentions and a plan for success, we began this unexpected phase.

It wasn't always easy.  It wasn't always fun.  In fact, it was occasionally terribly stressful.  But the intention was fulfilled and I was blessed to be part of the daily lives of my first grandchildren for over a year.  My husband and I became a team unlike any other time in our marriage.  I learned that true apologies are made out of strength, courage, and humility.  I gained a deeper understanding that love and strife are a part of every relationship but the outlook we want the most WILL conquer the other, if only in our own heart.

I miss seeing Levi and Liam as often as I used to but now our time together is primarily about having fun.  Tiring fun, but still fun.  And I love that! 

"The kids" have done a great job of sprucing up their new place, making it their own.  It is a cute little house with a nice big yard.  

Now my nest houses fewer people but it is still Not-So-Empty because it holds memories of both generations past and generations future, and the potential to be filled with the visitors that come our way. 

I am entirely grateful for all the lessons that I was presented with in the past year.  Hopefully some of them stuck.  I certainly didn't pass all of the tests!  But we each are moving forward, and filtering it out as we go.  And I am not ashamed to say that when I moved a piece of furniture a few days ago I got choked up when under it I found  a Cheerio.

P.S.  My husband also is not ashamed for me to tell you that he got choked up when he read that last sentence.  He is an AWESOME Grandpa... as you can see HERE.

A-Junking We Will Go

I am a self-declared minimalist.  Have been as far back as I can remember.  But something has taken ahold of me lately and I haven't a clue how it happened.  Perhaps I should blame Pinterest.  Just when you think you've seen every craft or re-purposing project that could ever be thought of, along comes a new crop of ideas that you simply MUST recreate.  That website is both a blessing and a curse!  

Or I could blame a latent gene that kicked into effect out of nowhere.  Both of my parents were collectors and savers-of-stuff.  No, they would not have been featured on an episode of "Hoarders" as they were both quite tidy about their treasures.  But Dad enabled Mom by building houses for her that had PLENTY of storage and Mom didn't fuss too much when Dad kept that motorcycle that didn't run... or brought home that gargantuan-sized piece of furniture... or that Pit bull puppy.  Dad was a plumber for many years and would occasionally do work for barter rather than money so he often came home from work with something unexpected, like the puppy!  Mom had collections of bells, fabric, greeting cards, jars, and much more.  Perhaps needless to say, we had a BIG job of clearing out their house after they passed.  I brought home some of their stuff, so maybe that's where it started. 

Perhaps my husband is to blame.  He is a pack rat extraordinaire.  We've had some of our most heated discussions about his disorderly collections!  I've even gone so far as to tell him that he is not allowed to die before me because I don't want our kids to blame me for "this mess"!  No matter how much I try to keep him organized he manages to clutter up the place <sigh>, but he is a decent sort of fellow so I'll keep him.   

Blaming the kids comes in handy, too!  Both of my children are collectors.  Zachary (23) has always been meticulous about keeping tabs on his collections.  He's been collecting action figures since before he could say "action figure" and still has every tiny little phaser that goes along with them.  Amelia (21)... not so much.  But she has progressed past saving used tissues so there is hope!

Since we moved around a bit when I was a teen I would often get the response "It is packed away" when I'd ask where this or that was.  I vowed that I would NEVER have a land called "Packed Away" at my house, and so far I've made good on it. 

Visitors have even remarked on my lack of  "stuff".   

Bare surfaces are comforting.  Empty rooms invite me in.  Even the slightest bit of clutter registers to my brain as chaos.  OCD-level panic sometimes strikes when the few things I have are out of place.  The weird thing is, even in my current "Collect Mode", it still does!  All this stuff is driving me bonkers!  But I am learning to work with it rather than against it and it is somehow making sense.    

So now that I have made this short story long, I will tell you about my husband's and my Junking Day yesterday.  It started last week when my daughter and I stopped in at a flea market about 45 minutes from our home.  I saw something that I wanted but couldn't purchase it since it was too big to fit in my car (see **Note** at bottom of post)  Hubby said we could go back with the pickup to get it and we finally got around to it a week later. 

Even though it was cold and raining, and I was dressed in shorts and a t-shirt, my husband really, really wanted to look around for awhile.  So we did, and I found more stuff.   Of course! I found several small items for re-purposing but the best find was something that just needed a bit of cleaning... 

Isn't it a beauty?!?  Turquoise, aqua, and teal shades are very appealing to me right now for some reason and this 9-inch vase practically leapt off the shelf into my hands.  No, really, it did!   It had rainwater and gunk on the inside, and dirt and scuffs on the outside, but I knew it really, really needed to come home with me.  I didn't know how much it cost, still don't, but I brought it in, cleaned it up and now it is doing its job...

The reason I don't know how much it cost is because the lady who runs the flea market likes to price smaller things as a group.  She priced a couple of larger purchases separately but the vase was grouped in with the other small things that asked to come home with me.  If I had to guess, I'd say it ended up costing me about 75 cents to a dollar.

When I arrived home I discovered that I truly did need this vase.  A couple of stems from my beloved peonies were bent over with the weight of their huge blooms and rain and had to be cut.  A perfect pair, don't you think?

Now that I've discovered how much fun junking can be, what is next?  Yard sales? No way am I getting up at zero-dark:30 to look for stuff!  But you never know.  A year from now I may be writing a post that tells about a new fondness for it.  Of course if that happens, enormous amounts of coffee will likely be a factor. 

 

What are some of your favorite junky finds?

 

**Note** Some of my finds will be featured in an upcoming 31 day series in October.  The item that we went back to pick up will (hopefully) be one of them, if it works the way I plan.  So excited!

My Husband, Awesome Grandpa

I really enjoy being a Grandma, doing all the typical Grandma things... cuddling, kissing, singing, dancing, feeding, diapering, bathing, rocking, playing. I am blessed to be able to do these things almost daily since my son and his family currently live with us. It is an honor that, despite the hiccups, my husband and I would choose again in a heartbeat. It often strikes me as odd that I didn't find all these things quite so blessed when my own children were babies. Especially the toxic waste-filled diapers! But this post isn't about me. This post is about my husband.

When our children were young, Stewart would do anything that I asked him to do to help with their care. The frustrating part about that was that I always had to ask. Or insist, depending on your POV. I thought that he should just KNOW when they needed care. He didn't. What I didn't realize is that, as I've come to discover, he was a Grandpa-in-the-making.

Grandpa's first time holding Levi (l.) and Liam (r.) in the NICU.

He is so in love with Levi and Liam, our twin grandsons. He does all the things that I do, sometimes pointing out to me what needs to be done -- "Levi is stinky. I'm gonna change his diaper." "Liam is fussy. Yep, it is about time for his bottle." He has become an expert at rocking the boys to sleep even when they put up their fiercest battles to stay awake.

Grandpa and his boys at 2 months old.

One thing that Grandpa does that Grandma doesn't typically do is roughhouse with the boys. He's done that since before they could even drag-and-drop their little baby selves in his direction. He'd scoop them up, roll from side to side, and growl while they squealed and I hovered close by. Hey! I remember that this is the same man who accidentally knocked out 2 of our son's teeth!

On the floor with Grandpa.

Grandpa, always helping.

Since our first floor is concrete and the twins are quite adventurous (and FAST) we decided to get a play yard and put extra padding and carpet underneath so that they can fall without becoming concussed.  And fall they do.  And push each other over.  Head bonks happen frequently.

The first evening the play yard was in place, Levi and Liam were playing contentedly, crawling, sitting, pulling up, cruising and, yes, falling over. There was a little fussing here and there but nothing out of the ordinary.

I went upstairs to the kitchen to get the boys' dinner ready and left Grandpa in charge. When I came back downstairs he was laying in the middle of the play yard, head propped up on a stuffed animal (a bison, if I remember correctly) with a boy on either side of him completely absorbed in their own little baby games. Stewart was just looking at the ceiling. I sat down on the couch and said "Hon, why are you in there?" Without skipping a beat my husband said in his matter-of-fact, quiet way... 



..."Just in case they want to wrestle."



31 Days of October: Day 22... Fringe Benefits

One of the things to do around here in summer is visit the beach. Ocean City, MD, is a very popular vacation spot for, if the traffic increase tells the whole story, people from "across the bridge", meaning from the other side of the  Chesapeake Bay Bridge... Washington, D.C., Baltimore, etc.

 

But this is October. Why am I talking about the beach in October? I'm glad you asked! The only time of year that I genuinely enjoy going to the beach is in fall. The summer crowds are, to me, suffocating!   That makes October the perfect time for a beach trip. Many October days are cool enough to keep the crowds away but warm enough to enjoy a stroll up and down the boardwalk.

My husband and I only make the trip to Ocean City 2 or 3 times a year but we always enjoy it. We usually spend about 2 hours walking and chatting and observing the few other humans who are taking full advantage of the season. This last trip we decided to do something we've never done before.

We had only been home from our hiking trip a few days (you can read about the trip beginning here), feet aching from the beating they took, so we rented a 2-person bicycle. Not the front and back kind but the side-by-side with a bench seat kind. We. Loved. It. It took about an hour to ride the whole length of the boardwalk and back with neither of us feeling like we were doing all the work. We were leisurely with our pace and able to talk without difficulty. So relaxing!

Here is me in our chariot... Notice the top... I kept thinking of that song from the musical Oklahoma... "The Surrey With The Fringe On Top". And it was orange, so I matched. (Yes, I do wear tops other than plain boxy t-shirts!) 

 

Here are some picutures I took along the way...

 

 

It was a gorgeous morning and we talked about having a picnic on the sand but by the time we were ready to eat lunch the sky had turned dark and the wind started picking up so we decided to head home. That and we were both starting to feel the discomfort that comes when you participate in a physical activity that you don't ordinarily do. I'll spare you the details because, well, frankly, it isn't all that interesting! But I will say that we were sore the next day and ibuprofen was taken every 4 to 6 hours.

Typically I would've under-appreciated this kind of day but I saw something a year or so ago that really makes me think..."The things you take for granted, someone else is praying for."  I don't know whom to credit with that quote but I'm sure glad they said it.  And I think I will just leave it at that!

 

31 Days of October: Day 12... Morning Joe With Jo

Coffee.  I drink it.  Morning coffee is at its best in October.  Why?  The temperature isn't too warm that it takes forever for it cool enough to drink and not too cold that it becomes lukewarm before the first sip.

My husband is a morning person.  I am not.  At least not by nature.   The following poem sums up most of my mornings perfectly...

 

For many years my husband, Stewart, worked second shift (4 p.m. to midnight) and that was perfectly fine with my internal clock.  When he was finally transferred to day shift, I was glad for him but my natural sleep/wake pattern dug in its heels and said "Oh, no, I'm not changing!" 

For some time Stewart would wake up and have his morning coffee alone while I stayed in bed.  That was perfectly fine me!!  Then one day, and for what reason I don't remember, he asked me to wake up EVERY morning to have coffee with him.  My brain had the following conversation with itself, which may or may not be similar to the actual exchange between my husband and me...  "Excuse me?!  You want me to what?!  This is an unreasonable demand!! Nooooo!  I don't want to! <pout>  FINE!  I'll do it but I refuse to be happy about it!"  So for years my ever peaceable husband made and brought my coffee to me in bed.

Stewart and I are so very different that some might wonder how we ever got together or how we've stayed together for 24 years. The short answer is "grace". Not mine. Not his. But God's. Not the kind that sweeps our differences under the rug only to be uncovered during a later argument (that happens quite frequently though). The kind of grace I'm talking about is the kind that says "There is more at stake here than what you can see. You have everything you need to keep working!" And even that manifests itself very differently in each of us. More about that at another time, maybe, because that isn't what this post is about.

Did I mention that Stewart is a morning person?  This doesn't just mean that he wakes up at 5:15 a.m., folks.  This means he likes to chat at 5:15 a.m.  My internal clock at 5:15 a.m. takes Proverbs 27:14 very seriously... "A loud and cheerful greeting early in the morning will be taken as a curse!"  A typical morning went something like this...

Stewart:  "Jo.  Here's your coffee." (Why does he have to slam the mug into the coaster?)
Me: <groan>
Stewart:  "How'd you sleep?" (The light from his eyes nearly blinding me.)
Me: <snort> 
Stewart:  "That good, huh? Got any plans for today?" (I could actually hear him smiling.)
Me: < croak>
Stewart: "Oh, yeah, you told me last night.  You're going to blah blah blah. (Fingernails on a chalkboard, anyone?)
Me: <heavy sigh> 

This would go on for  the amount of time it took me to drink my first cup.  He'd go pour me another cup and I would enjoy the silence for the minute he was gone.  Get the picture?  Yeah, not a pretty one, to be sure!

 

Over the years, I've learned to be a little less "Storm Cloud" and he's learned to be a little less "Mr. Chatterbox" in the dark hours of the morning.  And now, on those days when he has to go to work at 4:30 in the morning and we don't have coffee together, I actually miss it.   I am pleased to say that I wrote this before 7:30 a.m.   And Stewart is really pleased that I've progressed so much in this area. Really pleased!