Another Milestone Gone By and Another Dream Buried in the Dust

As I sit here, steeling myself against the morrow, I hear a tiny voice echoing through my mind “Great-Grandpa died. We buried Great-Grandpa.” This was the voice of my young niece and her perpetually repeated refrain a couple years back as her young mind and heart struggled to understand the concept of death. And tomorrow, we will all gather once again to perform the same office for my Grandmother. Tomorrow we will remember and lay to rest my last grandparent.

For indeed, Grandma went home not long after my previous post; my parents had arrived just in time – my grandma could still recognize my father (her son) though she could not speak and she liked and appreciated the shawl I sent her. I like to think it brought her my love, and a bit of comfort and encouragement in the end before she slipped into more or less unconsciousness – I am told my aunt had to gently pry it out of her hands after she fell asleep at night.

At moments like this, we do not truly mourn for the one gone on before – we know and understand that they are happy, at peace, pain-free. But nonetheless, it is hard to let go; so difficult to say goodbye. We mourn for ourselves. Our loss. Our heartache. In my case, my sorrow gets all mixed up with that which might have been. No one knows this, but I never thought in a million years that I would still be unmarried at this point in my life – my heart yearns for a much deeper connection; for marriage and a husband. Somehow, much as it did when we lost Grandpa a couple years ago, this loss brings new poignancy to my own personal heartache. I suppose in part because it delineates the passing of time, but also because if I ever do get married, my husband will never get to meet any of my grandparents. My children will never get to meet their great-grandparents.

There is a song an a children’s movie:

Like every tree stands on it’s own; reaching for the sky I stand alone

I share my world with no one else, all by myself, I stand alone.

I often feel much the same – except unlike the character in the movie, my solitude is not by choice. And I am so tired of standing alone.

Grandma would have loved to have (more) great-grandchildren. And told me so more than once (my family is big on teasing). But on her last trip up here last summer, she also told me that I shouldn’t marry just anyone. She knew the importance of finding a godly man and that it was far better never to marry than to marry the wrong man. I appreciate that so much, but still, my heart hurts.

And so tomorrow, with an ache in my heart (for so many mixed-up reasons) I will once more stand alone. But of course, not completely alone, for God is always with me. 

And lo, I am with you always, even until the end of the world.

And safe in His everlasting arms I will stay. 

What a blessedness, what a peace is mine

Leaning on the everlasting arms.

Saying Farewell

Precious memories, how they linger, how they ever flood my soul… in the stillness of the midnight…

As I sit here attempting to find words to write, my heart hurts - for miles and miles away with every passing moment, the ties that bind my grandmother to this world grow ever weaker and ever more tenuous. While Grandma is ready to go; it has been a rough couple of years for her since we lost Grandpa and while I certainly wouldn’t want her to linger on in her current state, it is so hard, so very hard to say goodbye.

My heart can sing when I pause to remember
A heartache here is but a stepping stone
Along the trail that's winding always upward
This troubled world is not my final home

Since the entrance of sin into the world, death is strangely intertwined with life. I just received a text from my aunt who informs me that the child of my cousin is not waiting until his due date to arrive and so my aunt and uncle are off to await that new arrival. So while one set of watchers will be awaiting a first intake of breath, the other set of watchers is waiting for a final exhale. And yet joy and sorrow are intertwined together for all.

What a friend we have in Jesus,
All our sins and griefs to bear!
We should never be discouraged,
Take it to the Lord in prayer.
Can we find a friend so faithful,
Who will all our sorrows share?
In His arms He’ll take and shield thee,
Thou wilt find a solace there.

(yes, I am deliberately blending all the verses together).

Last month (and I know it was last month because I was at Ag in the Classroom when I received notice) Grandma had a severe stroke; it is so hard to believe that it was only last month. Last week, her health rapidly deteriorated. I had been knitting a shawl for her – it was a complex and intricate pattern (because that is what I do) and therefore took a lot of time to finish. I am so grateful I was able to finish it just in time for my parents’ to take with them on their last-minute, unplanned trip, but I am so frustrated right now that I didn’t finish it so much sooner. “If” is a very dangerous word, but I cannot help but wonder, IF I had concentrated more deliberate focus… IF I had been more diligently persistent… Certainly, IF the pattern had not omitted a very important feature which ultimately resulted in me having to design the last (largest) pattern repeat to make the shawl large enough, or IF I had noticed said omission and selected a different pattern, I would have have finished six months ago – before she had her first stroke.

When peace like a river attendeth my way,

When sorrows like sea billows roll,

Whatever my lot, Thou hast taught me to say,

“It is well, it is well, with my soul.”

I won’t get to say farewell to Grandma in person – I am too far away and I had organized my work schedule so that I could be there for some time in August. That seems ever so unlikely to be a possibility now; it is only a matter of time now – and most likely not very much time either. So I shall say goodbye from here; nay, not goodbye – only farewell, for I know we shall meet again one day.

I love you Grandma. Thank you for being a kind and caring grandmother. Thank you for a life well lived; though I shall miss you very, very much, I shall rejoice with you as well. And as time rapidly slips us by, I will see you again one day soon.

Blessed be the tie that binds; our hearts in Christian love
When we asunder part, it gives us inward pain;
But we shall still be joined in heart, and hope to meet again.

Never-On-Time Christmas Packages

Last summer I participated in a craft fair at which one of my cousins also had a booth.  Her small daughters arrived and popped in several times during the day.

They loved coming over to see me and all my fun and colorful products.  The littlest one was particularly enthralled with a lovely, ruffley baby dress (we had to explain that it was too little to fit her).

When it came to my Dum Dum Warriors (and other toys), the oldest daughter was most definitely hinting,

“What are these for?”

“They are for people to buy.”

[in a rather dejected tone] “Oh. I wish I could buy them.”

So I took pity on the girls and told them, “tell ya what. You leave these here for people to buy and I’ll make you each one for Christmas.”  While technically, Christmas has come and gone, most of my Christmas gifts/fudge/etc. are never on time anyway.  Mostly because I am simply always late.  But I have recently thought of a brilliant excuse: people enjoy gifts whenever they receive them AND the fudge is likely to be more greatly (and less guiltily) enjoyed when there are not quantities of other Christmas goodies clamoring to be consumed.

But, unfortunately, after I told them this, I suddenly realized that it wouldn’t be fair to make only one set of children toys-not when most of my other cousins have children too.  So, it turned into a much larger project than I had originally anticipated (but I had a blast making them all).  It is going to be a surprise for everyone - with the exception of one cousin.  There are so many food allergies in that family, I had to consult her before creating and shipping off a toy with candy someone wouldn’t be able to eat.  And it turned out to be a good thing I asked; her littlest one is allergic to corn which means she cannot have any kind of sucker (at least none that her mom has yet been able to find).  So, since the warriors kinda require a sucker, I decided to make her an extra special toy to make up for not being able to have the candy.

Personally, I love the way this kitty turned out — if I weren’t a “grown-up,” I might decide to keep it for myself 😄  So, if my li’l cousin is like me, she won’t miss the candy at all... though if she has the same sweet tooth as my sister, nothing could possibly assuage the lack of candy... 🙄



All the toys are ready to go — so tonight I get to start packaging the fudge and toys and prepare them for mailing.  I am so easily entertained -- I had so much fun posing them all for this picture.

Snowstorm!!!

The storm that arrived this afternoon was one of those storms wherein snow is accompanied by great wind creating blizzard-like conditions. Dad is out of town this week so all chores are left up to me before/after work as necessary while he is gone. So when I arrived home from work last night, I was already late because of the driving conditions and made the most unfortunate discovery that the sheep had not come in from the field for the night.

So having trekked about in the “little field” a bit to make sure they hadn’t come in for water and were simply not in their shelters, I was like “oh brother” and debated heading back to the house for Fernie’s harness and leash, but the snow was blowing, the fog was descending, and it was getting darker by the second so I decided to chance it and lifted both of my dogs over the fence and we braved the storm in quest of the sheep.

While walking in the snow on the way OUT to find the sheep was not easy, I was to find soon enough that the return trip was much more difficult. But we went on our way – it was difficult to hold the correct course as I could not actually see where I was going; my flashlight could not penetrate the fog and the snowflakes, but now and again vehicles traveling down the freeway would light the night enough for me to at least know I was headed in basically the right direction. Bonnie gamely trekked along behind me in my footsteps – picking up lots of snowballs on her way and Fern (how that dog has so.much. energy, I cannot say) was running about hither and yon – I think she was smelling places the sheep had been previously-- or maybe they were rabbit trails (literally).

It seemed like ages had passed – I began to wonder if I hadn’t completely missed the hay feeders in the dark when we finally saw a patch of something that did not quite match the rest of the surroundings! It was the sheep. They had started on their way home, but either the darkness, fog, and storm had confused them or they simply did not like walking into the storm (can’t say I blame them for that).

 "I once was lost in darkest night. Yet thought I knew the way..."

Well, Fern and I got them started on their way home (even though Fern does not yet know how to be a sheepdog, at least she has finally mastered enough self-control to help with this) and then we went the rest of the way to the feeders to make sure no sheep had left behind (there weren’t). And then began to head back. I suddenly became aware that my little dog was no longer keeping up – I soon figured out what was wrong: she was basically one giant snowball :/ She is so close to the ground and rather fuzzy that the snow was clinging to her fur all over her legs and undercarriage. So in addition to fighting the wind and the blowing snow, I also had to pack Bonnie most of the way back. 25 lbs might not seem like a lot… at least not until there are a few extra pounds of snow and you are walking for distance in wind and deep snow 😕 When we got close enough to the corrals that Bonnie could actually sense that the journey was nearing an end, I managed to put her down and keep her moving with the promise of “doggie dinner” 😀 Food of any kind is a massive motivation for this little dog; by the end she was making faster progress than I.

The snow and fog was so thick by this point that all the way back, I never caught sight of the sheep again. But Fernie did – she kept them moving and we practiced her skills at patience and waiting and not going too fast (the last thing I wanted was to set the sheep off in a panic). It is just a good thing she is black or I would have lost sight of her in the snow too.

We finally arrived back at my house, Fern and I were coated in snow – poor Bonnie was covered in snowballs (which she immediately began to pick off and leave all over the floor). Everyone has received their promised dinner – and I am totally wiped out. This snowstorm does not bode well for the tasks of tomorrow…

When we like sheep had gone astray our shepherd came…

The Story of the Candy Cane Donkey

It was Sunday, the 16th of December.  The children were practicing for the Christmas Eve service - we had only one more rehearsal to go before the big event.  And alas, things were not going quite as well as anticipated...

None of the younger children were paying very close attention, most were not singing, and most often totally missed their cues (after all, there are so many other things to look at and think about, right 😉).

One boy who was standing right behind his little sister suddenly decided that his sister would make a brilliant arm-rest/leaning post 😕  Another decided that he needed to try to match the size of the very littlest 2-year old angels by hunching his shoulders and making himself appear shorter.  Hilarious yes, but not so promising for day of the program.

After we finished the rehearsal, I was talking to the program leader and she told me her little boy wouldn't even practicing singing at home because he didn't "know how to sing" (his words).

So I decided we needed a way to inspire the smallest children to sing and participate (loudly enough for everyone to hear).  Sometimes small children need something more concrete than "make sure you speak and sing loudly enough so that everyone in the back can hear you."  And quite honestly, a bit of bribery helps sometimes too 😁

So I started brainstorming.  Candy canes are always fun, but I would have to make them more attractive - EVERYONE has candy canes at Christmas.  Once when we were children, we were all given candy cane reindeer (candy canes with wiggle eyes and chenille wire antlers) - and that was my original intent... but somehow reindeer didn't quite seem to fit.  And then I had an epiphany!  Candy Cane Donkeys!  And these Candy Cane Donkeys would have a story to help the children focus. 😀

So I began working on the donkeys (Daphne and Danny aren't fully complete in these images; I added eyes after the photos were taken).  And the next Sunday I told the children the following story: 

This is Daphne the Donkey:

Daphne will come to the service with me - and she will sit with me where can see her; she'll help remind you to watch me so you know when to sing.  And every time you see Daphne, you will remember about her friend Danny.

Danny the Donkey is a very old donkey (Look! His mane is gray and even his ears and nose are white) and poor Danny can't hear very well at all.
 

Danny will sit in the back of the church and he wants to learn about Jesus too.  So you will need to sing and speak loud enough for him to hear even way in the back 😀  And if Danny can hear you really good so he can learn about Jesus, when the service is over, you can all have your very own candy cane donkey to take home (or eat immediately as the case may be 😋).

I was rather tired of donkeys by the time I finished:

Zillions of donkeys in a basket.

While I cannot say for sure if the donkeys helped a LOT or if it was just that the old superstition of dreadful dress rehearsal = brilliant show, the Christmas Eve service went very well - even with a runaway angel and shepherds who haven't mastered the art of quiet walking (on an echoey and mic'd stage) 😊  And I do know they helped the little boy who didn't know how to sing -- he suddenly discovered that singing was fun after all 😆

So, if you find yourself in need of inspiring young children to participate at Christmas-time, Candy Cane Donkeys might be just the thing 😀

The Romanticism of Christmas

As I sit here on this night before the day before the eve of Christmas (I looked at a calendar as I was typing that and I am still not sure I got it right….) and am contemplating everything I have yet to accomplish, I pause momentarily amidst the busyness to reflect. It is so easy to get lost in the planning and the programming; the baking and the gifting; the shopping and the creating; the wrapping and the crafting. And then there are the late nights – because I am perpetually behind in all things Christmas; as I always tell my sister, “it just wouldn’t be Christmas without a really late package from Aunt Jessica.” :)

And while every year we hear diatribes against the commercialism of Christmas from Charlie Brown to friends on Facebook, even to random shoppers in the store objecting to Christmas displays arriving in October, this year a new facet of the current perception of Christmas has been brought to my attention. Not actually “new,” this perspective of the season has been building for years; I have noticed it in a somewhat vague fashion in the past, but this year for a variety of reasons I am noticing it much more definitively. I shall call it the “romanticism of Christmas.” 

I don’t know precisely when it began, but I suspect it was a subtle shifting as the times, economy, and culture changed. Perhaps it began with the advent of moving pictures when such concepts could be easily popularized. And as the economy grew and more persons had both time and pocket change to spend in going to the pictures, or purchasing books, or albums. It was definitely aided by the aforementioned commercialization of Christmas – after all, the notion helps retailers sell diamonds and jewelry and chocolates, Hollywood to sell movies, theatres to sell tickets, etc.

In many ways, this is not a bad thing. Everyone loves a happy ending and happy endings can make our hearts happy (there are reasons romanticism sells). Love is beautiful and marriage (when done God’s way) is a magnificent thing – for it is a picture of something so much greater than any of us. And while a case could be made for the efficacy of remembering all year ‘round, if one is to set aside once per year as a reminder of the beauty, hopefulness, joyfulness, and selflessness in love, Christmas is an excellent time to choose – for the love we show to others is merely a faint shadow of the love shown to us so many years ago at Christmas.

“He was born to set all people free; born to die upon a tree...”

“It was for me He came; for me His shame...”

The trouble lies in the fact that this perception of Christmas as a time for romance has so fully permeated our culture that the reason for Christmas is as much in danger from this as from any other reason. Utilizing devices such as commercialism, atheism, or busyness to diminish something good are obvious tricks; utilizing something good to mask something better is much more subtle, less obvious, and therefore, more successful.

I went to visit my sister and her family for Thanksgiving this year; while I was there, we watched a couple of Christmas movies on Netflix. And last year and this I borrowed some Hallmark movies from my parents’. I noticed a trend in these recently produced movies: it seems that movie producers now are going for quantity instead of quality. The lines are so obviously scripted, actors often appear stiff and unnatural, and (if I am being quite honest) the stories which the movies are created to tell are poor and underdeveloped – it is almost as though they pick one character to fall in love with another character and that is pretty much all that matters – obviously they need a bit of scenery and a few scenes, but those all feel like afterthoughts. And yet, even so, the movies sell – and so next year will find even more of these 2^nd rate movies on the market.

I suppose it is possible that I am being overly critical of these movies; perhaps my mind is remembering the older Hallmark and other Christmas movies through a rose-colored lens – or at least from the perspective of a child. Perhaps the ache in my heart has something to do with my somewhat jaded perspective. But whether or not you agree with me regarding the movies in question, the fact remains: people in America have fallen hard for this trend.

I don’t really have a solution; I don’t foresee our culture shifting away from this trend any time soon and while it would be ideal to have a culture more in-tune with the truth, it remains an incontrovertible certainty that each one of us is responsible for our own attitudes, actions, and perceptions.  So once I have concluded this post, I will pick myself up again and get back to work on my Candy Cane Donkeys (post coming soon) and remind myself once more that Hollywood, Hallmark, and Netflix do not get to define Christmas.  Joy, fulfillment, and love are not dictated by whether or not one has a boyfriend, fiance, husband, children, etc.; they are the result of true relationship with Jesus and walking in His way.

Yet I will exult in the Lord, 

I will rejoice in the God of my salvation. 

The Lord God is my strength

And it is the season of the heart

A special time of caring

The ways of love made clear

It is the season of the spirit

The message if we hear it

Is makee it last all year.

Sheep Shearing!!!

Today was the day.  Today I decided some of the sheep needed a haircut (or a woolcut as the case may be 😉). But it was even more spectacular for me this go 'round because they were the first sheep I have sheared since I injured myself.

Since I injured my hand a couple years back, we have always hired shearers to come and get the job done - it is more efficient and less exhausting, but this year, some of the sheep needed to be done in advance of the shearers arrival.

It was my late day at work, so I had pretty much all morning to accomplish the task.  Dad was out of town though, so I was on my own.

I put the blades on my handset and oiled my shears - and commenced attempting to catch the sheep.  I caught the little ram and sheared him (and also discovered that I seriously need to head back to shearing school -- since I injured myself before I was able to put into practice what I learned from shearing school, my technique was sorely rusty).  And then I caught and sheared the wether.

But then I encountered a whole new dilemma.  I caught Ramses the big ram (that was NOT easy as he did not wish to be caught) and I managed to get him to my shearing station (also NOT easy as he outweighs me by at least 100lbs)... and then I was stuck.  I tried reaching over his back to grab a leg - but I couldn't reach.  And then I tried reaching around - and he almost took off with me.  And then I was like "Dude, SIT UP ALREADY" but he disregarded my suggestion.  And then I was like "Please sit up?" And he said "no."  So since I didn't seem to have much recourse, I said, "fine - you just wait until Dad gets home" and let him go 😁

And then that would have been the end of my morning shearing endeavors - except that Mr. MacPherson looked (and acted) so miserable that he was being left out (he was too warm in his wool coat), I took pity on him.  Catching him was the easiest task ever - attempting to shear around his horns, not so much.

But nonetheless, the morning was a HUGE success - especially in consideration of the condition my hand was in two years ago.  I am so grateful for the healing God has granted.

And this meme popped up in one of my forums - I have no idea who originally designed it, but it cracks me up every time I see it 😀 so I thought I'd post it below:

In light of the fact that Ramses won his battle, this statement is not entirely true... but if I had a proper shearing chute, I can assure you that he would not have won so easily 😀