Onions

We were driving past our neighbors last week, and Tim said 'Our neighbors haven't mowed their onions yet' (he called them by name, but they would probably rather be left anonymous due to the scandalous act of not having their onions mowed). I let the remark pass without commenting, for I knew we also had not 'mowed our onions yet'. The thought of it meant we were heading into spring. Longer days of spring means grass is popping up. The weekly task of mowing has begun. For me it is usually therapeutic with the hum of the mowing deck, and the smell of fresh cut onions.

We live out in the country. God generously put a carpet of various grasses, including onions, on the face of our lawn to prevent erosion. The thought of killing some of the grasses to allow more desirable grasses to grow doesn't interest me, even if it contains onions. I appreciate the carpet God made. At this point in my life, I have no desire to try and edit what God created. When we built our house, we went to the trouble of planting beautiful zoysia grass. Tim thought he would spray the yard with fertilizer to help the zoysia establish itself, and grow faster. We wanted to pamper our yard like our neighbors. When he finished spraying, he realized he had made a mistake. Instead of spraying it with fertilizer, he had sprayed it with weed killer. The weed killer considered our beautiful, landscaping quality zoysia grass a weed. It just about made him sick when he figured out what he had done. As a result, our yard is now a mixture of bermudagrass, onions, and other weeds. It seems some people are suppose to have onions in their yard to mow.

Early in spring, all around our house, wild onions pop up everywhere. They are some of the first green growth to come out of the brown earth. Living in the country, wild onions are as plentiful as sweet gum balls. Both sweet gum balls and onions can leave undesirable results when using a lawn mower. Sweet gum balls can be more dangerous than firecrackers, and an aggravation to dogs roaming the yard. Mowing onions, to some people, are an unpleasant aroma as the blades chop off the top of the onion plant. For me, the smell of fresh mowed onions is an inviting and invigorating smell. Fresh mowed onions means spring is here. Fresh mowed onions means new life is coming. Fresh mowed onions means a new beginning. Fresh mowed onions means a fresh look to a scraggly yard. Fresh mowed onions means tan lines are coming soon. Fresh mowed onions means it is time to start hoping for an abundant garden season. Fresh mowed onions, what a welcome smell. Come on spring!

Life has it's own seasons, but no season of life is as wonderful as a good spring season. Spring is a time of renewal, and new growth. I've seen spring come to visit my family. We've had family members leave our lives for a variety of reasons, and suddenly come back. We've had marriages almost destroyed, and by God's grace the commitment renewed and strengthened. We've buried family members young and old, and we've rejoiced in the birth of many babies. We've all made bad decisions, and yet God restores our fellowship with him, if we seek his forgiveness.  We've taken our focus off Christ, and had an intercessor pray and point us back to Him. We've seen sick family members healed. We've experienced career disappointments, only to be blessed by an unexpected job opportunity. While we sometimes find ourselves in a winter season of life, we often forget spring follows winter. If you find yourself in the dark dreary days of winter, hang on. I am here to testify spring can, and will come. I cannot say when or how, but it will come. It may seem like the winter days drag on forever. I have felt the long never-ending days of winter in my life. The warmth, and renewal, of a spring season didn't seem to exist. My winter season rut seemed to extend into the foreseeable future. There seemed no end to the painful, cold, brutal, frustrating, bitter, lonely, and harsh winter season. All I can say is hold on for a little longer, and you can rejoice when you smell the fresh mowed onions. The first hint of spring. The time of renewal you've been waiting for will greet you.

A Time for Everything 

1There is a time for everything, 

and a season for every activity under the heavens: 

2a time to be born and a time to die, 

a time to plant and a time to uproot, 

3a time to kill and a time to heal, 

a time to tear down and a time to build, 

4a time to weep and a time to laugh, 

a time to mourn and a time to dance, 

5a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them, 

a time to embrace and a time to refrain from embracing, 

6a time to search and a time to give up, 

a time to keep and a time to throw away, 

7a time to tear and a time to mend, 

a time to be silent and a time to speak, 

8a time to love and a time to hate, 

a time for war and a time for peace.

Ecclesiastes 3:1-8

Quirky

 We come into this world with empty hands, and we will leave this world with empty hands. Some of us capitalize on every opportunity that comes their way, and some of us stumble past opportunities only to look back and see opportunities missed. Some opportunities might allow us to express our carefree spirit, and other opportunities might allow us to put another notch in our belt. Every day new opportunities show up unannounced. We can seize the moment and take the opportunity, or we can sit by, and watch  someone else run with it. It appears we become a product of our choices and decisions as opportunities present themselves. Take this blog of mine, it was suggested to me by a quilting teacher. While this blog began as an opportunity to share quilting ideas, techniques, and accomplishments, the blog took off in a direction I did not plan. I leaned into the tugging in my heart, allowed it to evolve, and ended up with the blog being what it is. The opportunity appealed to me, so I guess you could say 'I took the opportunity'.

Where do our opportunities take us? Why do we pursue some opportunities, but dismiss others? What type of opportunities appeal us? When I was a child there were a couple quotes I kept taped to my dresser. One of them said,  'Most folks are as happy as they make up their minds to be', Abraham Lincoln. The other one said 'Love all, Trust a few, and do wrong to no one', William Shakespeare. Both written by historical men, whose opportunities taken have had an impact on many. I'm wanting to focus on the first one mentioned, 'Most folks are as happy as they make up their minds to be'. It has been this quote, written on a simple piece of paper, which occasionally helped me pick up my drooping chin, kick up my heels, and decide this day I'm gonna choose 'happy'. Happy is an opportunity to choose a better outcome for current situations. By choosing happy I alter how I respond to what comes into my life. By choosing happy I am rewriting my future. The choice of happy isn't always the road I take, but the opportunity to choose is always there.

The outcome of any situation has always been better when I have taken the opportunity, and chose happy. Take for example a horse I have. His name is Bronco Billy. He has been, and still is, an exceptional cutting  (www.nchacutting.com) horse. He has all the traits to make a great cutting horse. He's smart, cowy, athletic, and quirky. Probably every horse that is worth anything has their own quirks. Billy has his quirks, that for any other rider, would make them spitting mad. Billy has the talent of stopping so hard, and sudden, he can bury his butt in the ground in a split second. Myself or anyone else can be riding Billy, and if he gets ready to stop he gives no clues about it. He stops so hard, and so abruptly, it is totally unexpected. It can cause any rider to almost go over his head. If you've ever seen the movie Dances with Wolves, and you saw the scene where the indians try to steal Captain John Dunbar's horse. They are quickly running away with the horse when the he throws on his brakes, and the rider is pulled to the ground by the sudden stopping of the horse. Well, Billy's stopping ability has a similar effect to any rider. When he stops, if the rider is not ready, it will almost throw the rider over his head. I've had Billy for 13 years, and while his stopping ability turns heads in the arena, it can also be frustrating.
Billy has shown off his stopping abilities in the following ways:
-Riding in a pen full of horses and riders I've had a girl riding closely behind me while we loped around in circles. Billy could feel her presence, and I could feel his agitation of her riding so close. In a split second he put on his brakes, and stopped suddenly. The girl had no place to go, but to run into his rear end. There was nothing to do, but apologize over and over. Billy felt her presence, and didn't like it. From that day forward, if anyone tried to ride too close behind us I made a point to ride over to the side and pull him to a quiet stop.
-My children have ridden Billy on occasion. It never failed when they got going good, he would plant his butt in the ground in a sudden stop. Abruptly stopping they were surprised, and a little frustrated. Something about the feeling of being slung around by a large horse is kind of unsettling.
-My brother, who is a very accomplished and rugged cowboy, has ridden Billy. Loping around the round pen Billy, without hesitation, planted his rear end and almost threw my brother out of the saddle. Kicking him back into a lope, my brother was able to go a little further before Billy did the same thing. For me, it was humorous seeing my brothers surprised expression when he came to a jolting stop.
-Being a show horse, it is important that a good cutting horse can stop quickly to control the cow. Billy's athleticism, and stopping ability, far exceeded anything I'd ever ridden before. His quick stops enabled him to stop and turn a cow with ease. He was a superior horse to have residency in central Arkansas. Twice he qualified to go to the World Finals in Amarillo, TX. He had more potential than my ability could handle. He wasn't given an opportunity to fully use all his talent, because he belonged to an amateur rider. He gave his whole heart in the arena. What more could you ask for?
-When I first started riding Billy, and was warming him up at a show, he kept planting his rear end in the dirt. It caught me by surprise. He kept doing it over and over and over again. I was wearing my legs out trying to keep him going. Being a new-by on this horse I didn't know what to think, so I just kinda smiled and went on. After a while of loping and stopping, loping and stopping, I rode up to the edge of the show pen. Billy's trainer was sitting on the other side of the fence. He looked at me with a big grin on his face and said 'He sure does like to stop'. I'm sure it was humorous to him watching as I tried to keep Billy going.

My experience with Billy showed me something. You know what I was saying about choosing the opportunity to be happy? Riding Billy was a challenge. His quirky, unexpected, athletic, frustrating stops, could have been a problem. His quirkiness was such an unexpected thing. There were times I really wanted to lose my cool, but I chose happy. No matter how bad my day was going, Billy's stops brought a smile to my face. I could have let it upset me.  I could have let it make me mad. I could have let my Martin temper get the better of me. I could have spurred him more, and tried to break him of the habit. I could have sold him, and considered his quirky stops a flaw. All the things I could have done.......

All the things I could have done, I am convinced, would have altered the success we had in the arena. Looking back in hindsight, had I chosen one of the other actions, I believe it would have hurt our relationship. As it was, I found myself with a lighthearted chuckle, or a full blown outright loud belly laugh each time he caught me by surprise, and planted himself in the dirt. I've heard it said, and I believe, you have to work 'with' a horse not against it. I believe Billy would not have worked so hard for me, if I had tried to force my will upon him and tried to make him stop his stopping. I'm glad I accepted him as he was. It would have been a missed opportunity not to enjoy this exceptional animal with all his quirkiness. Do you, as I have, sometimes try to alter someone's quirkiness. Perhaps we try to change them into what people around us would consider more acceptable. If we instead would accept them for all their frustrating, repetitive, unexpected, talented habits, we would have the opportunity see them rise to the exceptional person God meant them to be. God is not an amateur. He is God. He can take people to their full potential. Giving our whole heart to God in the arena of life, He can use our quirky talents to achieve great things we cannot imagine.

Take the opportunity to choose happy. People around you will appreciate being accepted for their quirky ways.

Showing Billy was exhilarating joy.

Cutting at the Summer Spectacular in 2006

A birds eye view of Billy at a cutting show

Precious Memories

Growing up in small town america, it seemed like we were related to everybody.  As a child, the small town had a population of less than 200. My mother was one of four children in a very close knit family. Where one sibling was, you usually would find another sibling, their spouse, and all their kids. Evenings, weekends, and every holiday was spent with family. It wasn't a planned, forced or deliberate attempt to build strong family ties, it just happened naturally. The family genuinely loved and enjoyed being around each other. We were family, and wanted to be family. Our story began March 4, 1937. On this day my grandpa and grandma were married. It was a small ceremony with only 2 witnesses. While not an elaborate ceremony, the lasting significance of the event remains even today.
 
Papaw was a mechanic. My favorite memories of papaw were of him spending hours and hours in his shop. There was an unending amount of repairs for steady customers, not to mention repairs for family. I'm sure all our families vehicles kept him scratching his head because of all the troubled cars that were pulled, drug, pushed, or driven up to the front of his shop. Grease and oil on my papaw's hands, and under his fingernails, was part of his normal attire. Mammaw was a homemaker. Her duties were never-ending from before dawn until after sunset. Her main job was to do whatever it took to keep papaw happy. She told me of a time when papaw had been working on a car. She was in the middle of cooking lunch with fried potatoes cooking in the pan. Papaw came in, said he had to run to the parts store, and for her to 'come on'. She promptly turned off the stove, with potatoes still in the pan, and left with him to go to the parts store. Perhaps mammaw was to give her expertise advice when they got to the parts store, I'm not sure. However, I think it was a rare occasion for her to actually go into the parts store. It's been rumored, her reason for going to the parts store was to be with papaw. I've heard it said from several ladies in the family, mammaw told them 'You better go with your husband when he wants you to go, or there will be someone else who will'. Mammaw was an expert at keeping papaw happy.

Days as a mechanic, and days cooking fried potatoes went on and on. It was their routine. It gave the family stability. On any given day a child or grandchild would stop by. We could always count on there being enough food to feed whoever came by hungry. Just pull another plate out of the cabinet, and have a seat. Sweet tea was the only option to wash it down with. It was usually papaw at the head of the table, and mammaw running around the table tending to whoever had dropped by. Sitting around the table whether it was lunch, dinner, or just to have a cup of coffee, a conversation would usually be going. The talk would be about things like cars, church, politics, or the bible. I didn't know much about cars or politics to engage in those conversations. Church was church, and most all the family attended the same one, so we all knew what was happening. Everybody had their opinion about the last sermon. The greatest, and most engaging, conversations I remember around my grandparents table was about the bible. Papaw seemed to live and breath the bible. The pages of his bible were well worn. His bible was usually on the kitchen table open, sitting on the telephone shelf, or sitting beside his recliner. It was always in view. It was always being talked about. It was always referenced in a discussion. It was always read. It was always studied. It was always a part of our family. It provided the roots from which our family grew.

A while back I was doing my bible study, and a picture I keep in my bible kept falling out. Looking at it, I decided to text my cousin. I took a picture, of the picture, and sent him a text saying 'I carry this pic in my bible and it makes me appreciate my christian heritage'.

My Papaw standing beside the well at their house.

My cousin replied back, 'That's funny I have the same picture in my bible along with papaw with his mandolin with him in a picture behind him holding one also. Plus an anniversary clipping from paper of both of them.' He sent me this picture. After a couple more text, we finished our conversation.

Picture my cousin took of his bible

A few minutes later I walked into our kitchen to get some water, and there on my refrigerator was an identical copy of the picture my cousin had in his bible.

Pictures on my refrigerator of mammaw and papaw.

After sending a picture of the picture on my refrigerator, my cousin text back 'That is some good stuff there'.

Precious memories, how they linger, how they ever flood my soul.

Does knowing God end with their memories? Are they the end of the story? Relationships with God continue today. It can be passed on from generation to generation. It can be started in a new generation. It can be just one person who chooses the Lord, and stands alone even if their family does not believe. It can be me. It can be you. Getting to know God is a personal decision. It's a choice. Mammaw and Papaw made it their choice. Oh how those memories make a difference in my life.

Sharing three quilts

Blogs are written for a variety of reasons. In the fall of 2014 I was bitten by the quilting bug. While attending Long Arm University in Seattle it was recommended we do a blog to promote our quilting, and so my blog began.  I wanted to use the blog to share my journey quilting, however the blog evolved into something totally different. It seems to share a journey, but it's a journey about piecing my life together. In trying to use the blog as it was originally intended, I'll periodically share some of my quilting journey. Below are three quilts I have made in the last 6 months. 

This quilt was made for my daughter for Christmas 2015. I used 2 jelly rolls, and chose white as the background fabric.

This quilt was started at a retreat at Mt. Eagle, north of Clinton, AR, in the fall of 2015. It was finished and given to my son for Christmas 2015. The pattern is called 'spinning stars'. I picked up the pattern in Mountain View at the Ozark Folk Center a couple years ago. I'd hung onto the pattern, and finally got the opportunity to do something with it. 

My grandson loves dinosaurs, so I made this for him. I found the dinosaur print at a garage sale, and couldn't pass it up. In December, at the Arkansas Quilters Guild meeting in Little Rock, Donna Robertson with 'Fabric Cafe' was the speaker. She had a pattern book with 3 yard economy quilts for kids. This pattern was in the book. I modified her pattern a little to get the most use out of my size of dinosaur print.

Stronger

Do you ever read something, consider it, pass it by, look at it later, contemplate it more, and then finally apply it? Are you sometimes slow to pick up on an important point? Do you sometimes have to reread something to get the point? Do you sometimes have to ask someone to repeat what they said so you understand it? Many of these situations can make us feel inadequate or inferior. 

One day I found myself laying on my bed in a sad state of mind. Life's negative pressures were a little strong that day. As I lay on my bed, I looked at the wall opposite the foot of our bed. There was a picture Tim had gotten for me. The wall was empty when he came home with the picture, so we hung it there. I'd often read the verse on the picture, but didn't give it much thought. We have several pieces of wall art that have a verse of scripture, and this was one of them. As I lay there, my eyes kept being drawn to the verse. I read it over, and over, and over again (remember the question earlier about having to reread something?). I'd read this verse many times since we first hung it on the wall. Today it took on new meaning. My eyes seemed glued. Our room has 'stuff' in it, so there was plenty of other things that could have gotten my attention. This picture, on this day, at this moment was what my soul was needing. It's what my soul was hungry to hear. It had hung on our wall for a couple years, and here on this day was when it finally sunk in. It's simple. It's life changing. It's encouraging. It's an attitude changer. 

Be Strong in the Lord. Ephesians 6:10

There it is. That's all. Five little words. Powerful. 

To my feelings of inadequacy.....'Be Strong in the Lord'
To my feelings of inferiority......'Be Strong in the Lord'
In my stress......'Be Strong in the Lord'
In my doubt......'Be Strong in the Lord'
When I'm sad......'Be Strong in the Lord'
When misunderstood.......'Be Strong in the Lord'
When standing for what is right......'Be Strong in the Lord'
Praying for a sick loved one......'Be Strong in the Lord'
When my attitude stinks......'Be Strong in the Lord'

On that day, Jesus and I had a 'come to Jesus' meeting, right there on the bed. I finally took time to slow down and see what I'd been missing for a couple years. I reread it over and over again. I felt God was repeating himself over and over, each time I read it. Scripture has been around for thousands of years. The bible has been written in many translations. The words are ancient, but each time I read them they come to life. Each time I read, they take on new meaning for me depending upon my life's circumstances. God's word is alive, changing and evolving, yet remaining the same. Days like this day, when a verse that has been hanging on my wall for a couple years suddenly comes alive for me, it's like I've seen it for the first time. It's just what I needed, this day. 

After a little while, I picked myself up off the bed. My path in life doesn't always go where I want it to, or how I want it to. God met me right where I was on this day, and gave this to me......'Be Strong in the Lord'. 

My Man's Hands

Often I get on 'kicks'. Finding something new that interest me, running with it a while until it fizzles out, and then moving on.  This cycle has created regret sometimes because of not following thru with some of the better ideas. Usually it's something like a new technique, a new craft, a new healthy habit, a new skill, a new hobby, a new attempt at a stay at home job, or even a new social media kick like a blog. About 10 years ago I was on a kick where writing a book sounded like a good idea. I had heard 'everyone has at least one book in them'. The Chicken Soup series of books interested me, and I had a book idea I felt had potential to generate a following as well. My book idea consisted of the title 'My Man's Hands'. Interested people could submit a photo of their man at work, play, or whatever the submitter enjoyed the most about their man. They would submit a story with the photo explaining why they enjoyed their man doing that particular thing. The submitted photo would need to have an emphasis on the hands. The photos and the stories would be compiled into a book, and submitted for publication.

A man uses his hands in a multitude of ways, and I find it romantic. Tim is a good sport, and so he posed his hands for a photo intended for my book. The photo is stuck in an external back up hard drive from an old computer, and so far I've been unable to get it out. If I am successful at retrieving the picture in the near future, I will definitely share it. It is not anything earth shattering. He was a great sport posing for my 'kick' that year, and it definitely deserves a spot in this blog. A couple weeks ago I came across a printed copy of a draft of the intended website. It had been sent to me by the web designer I used to create the website where people could submit their stories. The draft reminded me of my book intentions. It prompted me to track down photos of Tim doing some of the things he does best. I was happy to find my man's hands working, playing, flying, socializing, volunteering, and a multitude of other tasks. I wanted to share the photos because the heart of this man is multi-faceted, and has been a joy to watch over the years.

I know it seems strange to crop the heads off of these photos. I want the focus to be on the hands. The hands of a man are a marvelous thing.

Precise hands at a drafting table completing land surveys.

Passionate hands on 'Ole N5272U'.

Tender hands cut the cake in unison.

Energetic and careful hands make a safe ride for neighborhood kids.

Steadying hands prevent a fall.

Working hands complete many jobs.

Helping hands used at many church functions.

Farming hands for a multitude of tasks. 

Loving hands give Granny a hug.

Compassionate and respectful hands read scripture at Grandpa's funeral.

Guiding hands maneuver a sawmill to precisely cut lumber.

Nurturing hands teach a grandson how to work.

Farming hands plant sorghum for molasses.

Pumping hands provide much needed water for residents of Ghana, West Africa.

Educating hands teach a grandson how to use big boy toys.

Nurturing hands teach a grandson how to be self sufficient.

Volunteering hands share a passion with a grandson.

Mission hands fulfill a desire to serve, by drilling water wells.

Inspecting hands learn about the soil of Africa.

Giving hands take time to provide for some in need.

Cautious hands take mammaw for a ride on a Harley.

Piggy Back hands take his kids for a ride.

The hands of 'my' man are a marvelous thing!

Thessalonians 5:14 And we urge you, brothers, admonish the idle, encourage the fainthearted, help the weak, be patient with them all.

Romans 12:11-12 Never be lazy, but work hard and serve the Lord enthusiastically. Rejoice in our confident hope. Be patient in trouble, and keep on praying.

A Treat

Beginning December 19, 2015 a chain of events happened that scared me to my core. The helpless feeling of not being able to do anything to fix the situation left me reeling with fear. On Friday December 18 our grandson had been running a low grade temperature and had thrown up 3 times. On Saturday evening of the 19th, my daughter called me. He had been getting sicker all day, and was running a fever of 104. He was throwing up everything, and wasn't keeping any medicine in his stomach to bring the fever down. She was frantic. We loaded him into the car and headed to the emergency room. At the emergency room the triage nurse took his vitals, and gave him medicine to settle his stomach. Additional medicine was given to bring the temperature down. After some time in the waiting room, we were transferred to an exam room. After a series of questions, an exam, urine test, strep test swab, and x-rays it was determined he had a fever virus, and it should run it's course over a few days. If it got worse we could bring him back to the ER, or take him to his pediatrician. Having an ER only 20 minutes away, Praise God!

Scare #1
Sunday and Monday did not bring any relief to his little body. His temperature stayed high, and keeping any food down was almost unheard of. Two calls to the pediatricians office on Monday the 21st, helped give reassurance his symptoms indeed sounded like a fever virus. When Tuesday the 22nd rolled around, and he didn't seem to be getting any better we called the pediatricians office once again. Being persistent about his symptoms of labored breathing with a respiratory rate of 60 and pulse ox ranging 89-95, they agreed to work him in at 3:40. After the doctor examined him, and got more x-rays, it was determined he needed to go to Arkansas Children's Hospital Emergency Room ASAP. He had pneumonia, was dehydrated, and his bowels were backed up. They said my daughter could only stop by her house long enough to pack a quick overnight bag, but not to waste anytime. Having a pediatricians office in the same town our grandson lives, Praise God!

Scare #2
At ACH ER they were waiting for him. The pediatricians office had called ahead and prepared the ER for his arrival. He was given a full exam, and asked a multitude of questions about his health. After several hours in the ER it was confirmed he had pneumonia in his lower left lung, was dehydrated, had blocked bowels, and needed to be admitted. He was immediately started on IV antibiotics, 1 liter of oxygen, and admitted to a regular room. He was settled into his room about 1:30 am on December 23. With labored breathing, high fever, and lots of body pain. He got little sleep. The ER put him on a broad spectrum IV antibiotic. Prayers for healing began. Mid morning of December 23 when his breathing became more labored, more x-rays were taken. From the x-ray they thought there was fluid around the lung, and prepared to do a procedure to insert a drain tube. They did an ultrasound to confirm the fluid. The ultrasound didn't show any fluid, so they decided not to insert a drain tube. The pneumonia had rapidly spread. What was originally in his lower left lung now consumed the lower half of his left lung. Having Arkansas Children's Hospital less than an hour from home, Praise God!

Scare #3
Late night on the the 23rd our floor nurse 'Brandon' (I thank God for this observant and efficient nurse), quickly jumped into action. A request was made to move him to PICU (Pediatric Intensive Care Unit) because of his worsening pneumonia. More x-rays had showed his whole left lung was involved and was considered a 'white out'. The X-ray looked like a white blob on his left side. His ribs were barely distinguishable. Once again they said there was fluid on his lungs and they were making preparations again to insert a drain tube. Arriving in PICU was unlike any experience I've ever had. These nurses and doctors thrive on attending to and caring for sick babies. Their passion for helping the little ones can best be seen by the looks on their faces when a new patient arrives. I can't adequately explain what I saw on their faces when we arrived, but it was like his mother and I were not even on the planet. All eyes were on him. Their care was for him. Their compassion was for him. Their concern was for him. Their love was for him. He was quickly put on high flow oxygen and a 2nd antibiotic. It seemed the journey was getting longer. Mid morning on December 24th, he was taken to have an ultrasound to determine if it was fluid, and how much. For the second time, the ultrasound didn't show any fluid, and a drain tube would not have to be put in. At some point on the 24th a 3rd antibiotic was added to his regimen. It was Christmas Eve. The pneumonia seemed to be on a rampage. For exceptional nurses, Praise God!

Christmas Day, December 25, they started introducing him into a clear liquid diet. We felt like progress was finally being made. The pulmonologist said they definitely could hear more air moving in his left lung!! Perhaps the antibiotics were starting to work. It was a good Christmas Day. We started seeing improvement, Praise God!

Scare #5
December 26. What a good day. He woke up hungry. Ate a biscuit with jelly, and was sitting up playing. We got news he would be going to a regular room, no step down room but a regular room. It couldn't get any better. Praise God!.............well, not so quick. Yes praise God, but not so quick celebrating him getting better.. Always praise God, but sometimes things change, and it did. During the afternoon and evening of the 26th he took a turn for bad. His lungs got worse once again. He had increased chest pain and labored breathing. Some of his pain was from a build up of air in his stomach from the high flow oxygen. They transferred him to IMU (Intermediate Medical Unit - a step down unit) on the evening of the 26th for closer observation. He stayed in IMU on the 27th, received a CT scan in the afternoon, and received results that evening.  What he had avoided twice before seemed evident this time there was definitely fluid around his left lung. They said the fluid amount was significant, and a drain tube would be inserted the following morning. He would remain in the IMU unit until the procedure, and then return back to PICU once again. Fevers were still spiking at 103-104. Prayers were continuing. There is providential care even on a bad day, Praise God!

Scare #6
The morning of the 28th a drain tube was inserted at his left lung. The initial drainage amount was 800 cc. He was put on a breathing tube. Another tube was inserted into one nostril to help remove some of the air that was accumulating in his stomach, causing it to bloat, and cause pain. He would be kept sedated for the next 24 hours. During the night of the 28th they installed a feeding tube to get him much needed nourishment. He hadn't had a decent meal in about 10 days. He was loosing a lot of weight, but we could not tell it because of swelling from fluids and bloating from air in stomach. A catheter was also installed during the night of the 28th. His movements were limited, and they were keeping him sedated. They did another chest x-ray on the morning of the 29th, and there was improvement!! His breathing was better, and most of his breathing was on his own. Fluid drained was increasing, and was up to 1700 cc. He was resting better than he had in days, and he could shake his head to answer yes and no questions. He wanted to so desperately to talk, and tried without much success. Sometimes when we feel we cannot endure anymore, relief comes. God is good!

Scare #7
On the 30th there was talk about removing the breathing tube. He was still swelling and they were giving him meds to reduce swelling, however they did not seem to be working. With 3 antibiotics running thru his little body, and all kinds of other meds his kidneys were taking a hit. His kidneys had been injured. They were cutting back on his meds that filtered thru his kidneys. They would spend the next few days closely monitoring his kidney function. Our bodies ability to heal, God is good!

December 31: The catheter was taken out and he was taken off high flow oxygen. His stomach pump, and his feeding tube was removed. He was introduced to a low sodium bland diet. Hallelujah!

Happy New Year!! Today was a strong turning point. His chest tube was removed. The amount of fluid removed from his left lung grew to a total of 2700 cc. (2000 cc is the same as a 2 liter coke). All he had on was a blood pressure cuff, oxygen, and a pulse ox monitor. He was finally eating real food. God is certainly good!

January 3: Oxygen was taken completely off. He stood up for the first time in 2 weeks. His legs were 'wobbly', as he called it. He could barely stand up, and barely made it 10 feet across the room to sit in a chair. I was going to leave the hospital for a little bit, go home to clean up, and come back to stay the night. I asked him if there was anything I could bring back for him. He said 'yes, bring back a treat for all the sick boys and girls'. A compassionate heart. Praise God!

January 4: We did a happy dance this day. He was finally going home!!

Crows for me

Two days of continuous rain had everything soaked. Two days of no sunshine made everything feel blah. Two days of being forced inside created cabin fever. Sitting in the den, looking outside, I saw three crows seeming to enjoy the drizzling rain. As I looked at them, I wondered if anyone ever wished they were a crow. If people were to imagine themselves being a bird I would think they would want to be an eagle, or a blue bird, or a cardinal, or some other interesting and beautiful bird. Who would want to be crow? Why would someone want to be crow? The bird we would choose to be are the one's with beautiful colors, one's that could fly the fastest, one's that could sing the prettiest songs. A crow has none of the traits we consider to be desirable. Even a crow's sound can be loud and annoying, caw-caw. Who would want to go around all day saying caw-caw, caw-caw? Even a crow's color may not be the most desirable. Who wants to be a black bird when you can be a blue, or red, or yellow bird? Often times in the fall when outside riding a horse, or walking, or attempting hunting, it seems like crows are nature's alarm system. They seem to tell everything within half a mile I am outside.  I don't recall seeing crows in the summer months, but every fall they faithfully show up to charm us with their caw-caw. A crow, I am sure, has a purpose. I'm certain there are people who find them fascinating and beautiful. 

As I saw the crows in the back yard, I started wondering about their purpose. What purpose could a black cawing bird have? My intent was to write this blog about how everything has a purpose, even crows. Wanting to know a little more about crows I visited Dr. Google. Copied and pasted below is the second article I came across. I had my moment of amazement, and it was not what I expected. I never made it to an article about what purpose a crow could have. I was intrigued by this article, and was satisfied this is what I needed to learn from crows. 

American Crows are highly social birds, more often seen in groups than alone. In addition to roosting and foraging in numbers, crows often stay together in year-round family groups that consist of the breeding pair and offspring from the past two years. The whole family cooperates to raise young. Winter roosts of American Crows sometimes number in the hundreds of thousands. Often admired for their intelligence, American Crows can work together, devise solutions to problems, and recognize unusual sources of food. Some people regard this resourcefulness and sociality as an annoyance when it leads to large flocks around dumpsters, landfills, and roosting sites; others are fascinated by it. American Crows work together to harass or drive off predators, a behavior known as mobbing. - https://www.allaboutbirds.org/guide/american_crow/lifehistory

Aren't we highly social people, more often seen in groups than alone?
Don't we often stay together in life-long family groups?
Doesn't it take our whole family cooperating to raise our young?
Aren't we the most intelligent specie on the planet, and work together, devise solutions to problems, and recognize unusual sources of food?
Aren't we resourceful, and aren't we sometimes socially annoying?
And this is my favorite.....
Shouldn't we be working together to harass and drive off our greatest predator, satan? Shouldn't we be mobbing satan on behalf of those we love and care for?

"Somebody's Prayin'"

Somebody's prayin, I can feel it
Somebody's prayin' for me
Mighty hands are guiding me
To protect what I can't see
Lord I believe, Lord I believe
That somebody's prayin', for me.

Angels are watchin', I can feel it
Angels are watchin' over me
There's many miles ahead 'til I get home
Still I'm safely kept before your throne
'Cause Lord I believe, Lord I believe
Your angels are watchin' over me.

Well, I've walked through barren wilderness
When my pillow was a stone
And I've been through the darkest caverns
Where no light had ever shown.
Still I went on 'cause there was someone
Who was down on their knees
And Lord. I thank you for those people
Prayin' all this time for me.

Somebody's prayin', I can feel it
Somebody's prayin' for me
Mighty hands are guiding me
To protect me from what I can't see
Lord I believe, Lord I believe
Somebod's prayin' for me...

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mHtWhnZU2Xo

This song is in my iTunes playlist. It often rolls around to play. It's encouraging that perhaps someone was praying for me in a time of trouble. It also encourages me to pray for others that come to mind who are facing trouble and difficulties.

Seeing crows has taken on a different meaning for me.

What do we say?

Singing and music have never been a strength of mine. If I ever sing in the shower, I make sure no one is around. If I sing while driving down the road, I make sure the music is so loud I can't even hear myself. Singing at church is done in a muffled tone, so not to scare the congregation off before they get to hear the preacher. Needless to say, I can't carry a tune in a bucket. Some of my family are blessed with the gift of a beautiful voice. However, this gift was not one God chose for me.  Occasionally I get the privilege of standing beside or in front of a lady who has a voice as beautiful as an angel. I'm always secretly hoping the people in front of me think it's me who has that magnificent voice. Well....... my wish finally came true. I was singing at our ladies bible study during the opening hymn, and there was a lady behind me with a voice to die for. Her ability to sing far out done any dream I ever had for singing. I belted out my pitiful tone, just because I knew she would drown me out. The song ended. I felt great. I got to sing loud and proud, because I knew my singing was covered up by her sweet voice. We dismissed in prayer and headed for our classes. After class we returned to the sanctuary for a lecture. A lady who had stood in front of me during the opening hymn spotted me, and smiled. She said 'You sang beautiful while ago'. I smiled and nodded. What do I say? Do I let her think it is me? Do I set her straight? I spoke up with a smile (almost a laugh), 'That wasn't me.' She quietly sat down in front of me, and we opened our hymns to sing another song. I am certain after that song she knew it wasn't me. The woman who was behind me earlier had sat somewhere else.

Listening to the Holy Spirit can sometimes be a challenge. Sometimes I listen to the Holy Spirit in the shower, when no one is around. Sometimes the Holy Spirit talks while I'm driving down the road but the music is so loud I can't hear him. Sometimes the Holy Spirit speaks to me at church, but I'm afraid speak up more than a muffled 'amen', so the congregation won't wonder what's wrong with me. The gift of the Holy Spirit is freely given to all who acknowledge and accept, even me. Occasionally I get the privilege of standing beside, or in front of, someone who always seems filled with the Spirit. Someone whose face always seems to glow because they have been in the presence of God. Sometimes, I secretly hope the people around me think I'm filled with the Spirit too. It's contagious. The Spirit makes others want to be filled with the Spirit. Well.........my wish can come true. The Holy Spirit's ability to direct, and help me, far out does any dream I've ever had. I can belt out my pitiful attempts at life and know the Holy Spirit can multiply my efforts, if I back up and give Him space. Our life can be filled with great joy and enthusiasm, by allowing the Holy Spirit's indwelling power to lead. We cross paths with different people every day. Perhaps someone will look at us and say, 'you helped me when I needed it', or 'you prayed for me', or 'you encouraged me when I was sad', or 'you did a great job'. And when someone gives us a compliment, do we just smile and nod. What do we say? Do we let them think it's us? Do we set them straight? I sat by a lady at supper a few nights ago. I was giving her compliments for a job well done on something she is in charge of. She took her index finger and pointed up. She said 'It wasn't me, It was all Him'. She knew to give credit where credit was due. She knew it was God working thru her. Do we point up, speak up, and say 'That wasn't me, it was all God'. And when life proceeds on to another chapter, will the people you've crossed paths understand it wasn't you? Will they understand it was the Holy Spirit in you, directing you, and know it was all God.

A quilt from a quilt show in Little Rock, AR

Kindred Spirits and Bosom Friends

When my daughter was younger, there was a movie she used to watch called 'Anne of Green Gables'. I think I may have enjoyed the movie more than my daughter. Anne was a red head tomboy orphan who was always up to something. The movie follows Anne thru her life as she grows up, and allows the viewer a chance to see quiet a range of shenanigans that seem to follow the girl everywhere she goes. During the course of the movie, the little tomboy blossoms into a well educated beautiful woman. It was in this movie that I first heard the phrase 'Kindred Spirits' and 'Bosom Friend'. Anne used them in the following way:

"Kindred Spirits are not so scarce as I used to think. It's splendid to find out there are so many of them in the world."
-L.M. Montgomery, Anne of Green Gables
Anne made this comment about a lady who previously had gotten crossways with Anne, but in the end Anne realized there really were some similarities they had in common. 

"A bosom friend--an intimate friend, you know--a really kindred spirit to whom I can confide my inmost soul. I've dreamed of meeting her all my life. I never really supposed I would, but so many of my loveliest dreams have come true all at once that perhaps this one will, too. Do you think it's possible?
Anne said this to Marilla shortly after she arrived at Avonlea.


The honesty of Anne's words cut straight to the heart. Don't we as women all wish for a true 'kindred spirit', or a true 'bosom friend'? 

Growing up shy, bashful, and backwards created huge obstacles in finding a kindred spirit, or a bosom friend. I had a tendency to confide in my horses, talk to my horses, enjoy my horses, and dream about my horses. Taking time to establish a strong relationship was too much stress for someone so shy. It was just easier to build a relationship with a horse. Funny I know, but it worked for me. I could stay in my comfort zone of not communicating, not exchanging thoughts and feelings, not worrying about if or when I'd last talked to someone, and enjoy the solitude with a large warm blooded animal. The effort it would take to establish a kindred spirit or bosom friend was too great for this shy girl.

I think the years spent with my grandma in her later years, and becoming a grandma myself, required me to go at a slower pace than usual. The slower pace gave me time to become more reflective, and think more about what was actually happening around me. In both of these relationships I started to realize it was the small things that meant the most. It was the flowers picked, the hay bales jumped, the dollar store visited frequently, the drive to a cousin's house, the books we read, the Thomas trains pushed, the pinto beans and cornbread we ate, the apples we picked from the back yard, and the peaches we picked at the orchard, these were the things I treasured the most. I was taught in both these relationships we have but one turn in life. I think it was the realization of the one turn in life that opened me up enough to give space to the possibility of a kindred spirit or bosom friend.

Finding someone you can consider a 'kindred spirit' or a 'bosom friend' is a true rarity. There are a couple women I consider have earned a ranking in my book as a both a 'kindred spirit' and a 'bosom friend', they are my grandma (Modenia) and my sister (Cindy). With both these women I have felt, at times, they knew me better than I knew myself (and that is scary). However, they were  neither judgmental or critical. They always listened with an attentive ear and loving heart. Offering advice only when asked. Giving a nod of the head in agreement with me, or giving me a long pause in the conversation if they disagreed. I got the point, and they never had to say a thing.

There have also been a few women I consider to be a very strong 'kindred spirit'. Each relationship occurred at a time, and in a place I totally was not expecting. They blossomed on their own with very little nurturing. They just showed up out of the blue. I think God put them in my path at a specific time in my life because it was just what I needed to get me thru. He knew what I was going to need before I did. He went ahead of me preparing the way by placing these women in life. I'll not mention their names, but I have thanked God for giving them to me just when I needed them. Each 'kindred spirit' has it's own unique set of blueprints, which create our unique relationship. There are still struggles within myself to open up, but the rewards received from each of these relationships have been worth the risk.

As women, perhaps we can look for that special lady who needs encouraging, lifting up, prayed for, talked to, or just called. We can make a difference. I've had women make a difference in me, and I'm not sure they even know. If the opportunity presents itself I will tell them what they have meant to me. It was the small things they did, the gesture of kindness, a prayer said for me, the acknowledgment that I was in the room, a smile given when I was feeling down, or maybe by an email or text just to say hi.

Many kindred spirits are in this world. Take the first step, open the door to the possibility of creating a kindred spirit. Who knows, in the end you may find yourself a new bosom friend. Wouldn't that be the biggest treat of all?