Category Archives: rest

Summer Weekend Rest

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Summer Weekend Rest

We are blessed to have all our children, grandchildren, and one surviving parent living in our home state, Missouri. Travel for visits with them are frequent. We had my sister in town for a week in June. The Kansas City family was in town last weekend, so some local outings were ensued and enjoyed. We spent a Sunday afternoon in Farmington to take my youngest grandson, Eli and his buddy out for lunch. We met our newest granddog, Tillie, a stray puppy with the most gorgeous blue eyes that wandered onto the farm. This week was my granddaughter, Libby’s 20th birthday, Dean and I’s14th wedding anniversary, and the 4th of July, and we chose to stay in our hometown except for yesterday. We ventured out to our favorite neighboring river towns of Hermann and Washington, MO. The recent summer rains and storms have the Missouri River up and over the banks in some places. Tributary creeks are swelling into the fields and yards as well. Some holiday activities were cancelled because of the flooding, but less fires started with fireworks. Cabooses and train stations became our entertainment.

These weekends while Dean and I are at home, we are able to get some chores done. Dean’s parent’s home sold last month, so no more emptying cabinets, drawers, purging, and throwing away. Now we sort through the treasured items Dean brought home as mementos of his childhood and heritage. He built a shelf in the basement to organize these items. The Japanese stemware his father brought home while serving in the Army will be placed in our China hutch. We added a handsome wood bench to our living room. A worktable for planting and building projects sets under the carport as well as an old tool cabinet.

Yes, somewhere in between chores, rest and relaxation have been included in our weekends. With summer travels at a minimal, it is possible. For myself, writing is relaxing. Just about every weekday afternoon after cooking for the local seniors, I get a short nap, then write until dinner needs to get started. Some evenings and weekends include writing as well. My first book, a memoir of recipes, short stories, and poems has been my primary focus these past few months. I am just about finished with it after three years of plugging away. I promise myself, one last recipe, one last short story, and then the photos. Writing can be an addiction. Dean is my first reader, then I will ask a couple of others before going to a professional editor. The publisher and the printer are to follow. I will let you know when my first book is available.

Ready For A New Season

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Ready For A New Season

Celestially speaking, the Summer Solstice happens on June 21. But for many families, Memorial Day weekend marks the beginning of the summer season. All I know is the days are getting longer, enough to enjoy sunlight early morning and after dinnertime. Most of this May’s days have been mild enough to get a walk in the middle of the day. Those hotter days, it is better to get those steps in or piddle around in the yard early morning or in the evening. The sun on my skin is warm and the blowing late spring air cools. I think they refer these days as “resort days.” I am sleeping wonderfully sound every night when a good walk or gardening chores have been a part of my day. Stocked my beverage tray with some new herbal teas. A couple of weekend getaways early summer and a late summer trip to the Appalachians is planned with family. I want to keep my writing skills sharpened, so a 2-day writing conference in Tennessee takes place in June.

A welcomed new season is coming for a few folks. They have rounded a corner and are rising above. My oldest daughter and her family lost their house in a fire on Christmas Day. There have been so many prayers, tears, trials, and days of confrontations with their insurance company to get to this place today. They purchased a semi-permanent housing solution, a very large fifth-wheel RV and have it placed on my son’s-in-law family’s farm a few miles from their original home site. The hopes are more insurance settlement funds will allow them to build. No more motel living for them. They became instant minimalists and are essentially rebuilding their lives from the ground up. Most of their personal belongings were destroyed. Collectables such books and special houseplants are no longer, but an attempt will be made to replace them. Some selected few items were spared. The baby books were melded into a single mass, but my daughter was able to retrieve some relics on the inside of this mass. A heirloom rock collection from my parents were intact. Somehow the fire skipped over a box of photos. What was left of their house has been bulldozed down and hauled away. The lot is empty and will be sold. My daughter and son-in-law did not want to rebuild there, but desire to start anew near the same community due to relationships they have made over the past 12 years.

Next week I too am starting a new season in my life. I have been semi-retired for 2 years now. I have been employed with per diem part-time jobs but struggled with obtaining dependable hours. I even attempted to go back to full-time employment just so I could get some stability in hours, but it became too much on me. This new opportunity recently came across my online networks. I have been offered and accepted a part-time position for a non-profit group that provides meals and other services to seniors in the quad-county region. I love to cook from scratch and have the opportunity to use my culinary skills to serve the senior community. I will work weekday mornings only, and very close to home. The pay works for me, and it will help supplement for my disabled daughter’s medical care. I will continue teaching per diem culinary classes at the local community college at least one evening each month during the fall and spring semesters.

What does your Summer include? I hope some R & R, time with family and friends, a meandering road trip or two, nurturing a beautiful blooming plant or two or ten, a healthy dose of sunrays, a book to read, and an ice-cold beverage of choice each day.

The First Summer Storm

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The summer solstice came and went without my celebration.  I am sure the earth still celebrated!  Too busy I would say.  Yes, I need to slow down.  Family engagements and work obligations continue to press me of my time, focus, and energy.  Simply watering the potted plants or making a light, summer dinner is a chore. I have not stopped long enough to smell the roses or savor the flavors of summer.  I took the day off today.  Had to get some reprieve from the madness, gather my thoughts.  Nothing like an upset stomach and headache to slow you down.  Every year it is like this just before vacation finishing up projects at work, home and yard chores, making sure all the travel details are together.  The air was unsettled this morning when I went out to water the potted perennials in the back yard.  Something brewing.  The clouds kept rolling in. Kind of like my recent hectic days building up.

I had no groceries in the house as we have been house and pet sitting this past week for two vacationing family households.  I thought I would beat the eminent storm.  It was like night by the time I gathered my $30 worth of protein and veggies into the Jeep.  Big wet drops started to hit the pavement and my bare arms and sandaled feet.  I managed to get to the cottage before the dark clouds totally let loose. Our first summer storm.  How refreshing.  I read Ann Voskamp’s timely words, “A soul does not work without a sabbath…Be still and know God…and not forget who you are.”  There was a time in my life when I forgot who I was.  And these memories too have preyed my mind these recent days.  This vacation will be good for me.  For Dean, too.  Different scenery, a fresh view.  I think a month-long vacation or sabbatical will be in 2020.  Brewing for my next season in life …

 

Contrasts

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A week in the mountains away from suburban life, work day conflicts, time constraints, and society’s woes … God’s creation … His canvas …

colorful vignettes, the snow-capped peaks and vi-rid valleys, mountain streams, deep-rooted trees, fresh air, hummingbird shrills, delicate flowers abloom, the silvery paper coins of the aspen groves fluttering, and the simplicity of just being can settle anyone’s mind, heart , and soul.  What a difference a week can make.

Why are we as a people so fired up?  In fight mode, defensive?  Pause a moment. Take a deep breathe or two. Quiet the soul.  Chill, or sip some chamomile tea if you cannot get away to that quiet place on your own.  Think, but not too hard.  Meditate on goodness.  Selah from the heart.  Thank God.  Love unceasingly.

Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Love never fails…”  1 Corinthians 13:4 -8 (NIV).

Green Passion And The Porch

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As most weekend mornings go, I cannot sleep in long.  Weekday awakening before 5:00am makes it difficult to sleep much past 7:00 am on the weekends.  The weekend to-do-list is long, so Saturdays are packed. On Sundays, I start at a slower place making meditation and prayer a part of my morning. The front porch welcomes a cup of hot honey chamomile tea an inspirational gardening book, and me.  The sights, sounds, and smells of a rain storm bring freshness to the morning.  I became one with the springtime outdoors, crisp breeze and tender green plants and white dogwood blossoms.  A bit shabby from winter life, my potted plants are waiting for a play date with their gardener.  I withheld that Sunday knowing next Saturday will be a better time for gardening.  This time was set aside to rest rather than produce.

Besides my green passion needs to get fluffed up like a flatten feather pillow.  For months my focus has been our house, all those details with a major insurance claim … the funds, renovation, inspections, and the move back in.   There is a good-size pile of paperwork still needs sorting through, but it can just wait.  This gardener needs to get her green thumb out again, play in the dirt, sow some herb and vegetable seeds, design some pots of virid green life.  We had no time to sow in trays, so direct sowing it will be this year.  Better late than never.

Ambitious thoughts for another Saturday, Dean and I spent a good part of the day cleaning gumballs and rocks out of the front yard.  The neighbor’s gumball tree scattered its fruit all over the neighborhood with the help of the spring winds.  The rocks surfaced during the water and sewer line repairs.  Perennials were brought out from the garage.  The babies are seated in the cart while the large potted birds-of-paradise, lemon tree, asparagus ferns, geraniums, and arrowhead plant are now situated in the newly mulched landscape.  Our succulents have been outdoors on the front porch for about a month.  We placed a covering over them with a frost-forecast.  Fortunately March and early April have been mild like much of the winter. The herbs and green leafy vegetables will be sowed next weekend as well as annuals planted in a couple of moss baskets. Only so much time during one day. The journey is a part of gardening, not just the end result … one day at time …one season at a time.

I relax on the porch another Sunday.  This particular morning is special as my two oldest granddaughters join me.  Talking and soaking in the morning sunshine, it is a tender moment indeed like the fresh spring foliage…and more porch Sundays to look forward to.

A Trickle Or Flood

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The boxes stacked to our eyeballs are dwindling.  Dean and I along with my daughter and her family managed to get moved back into our renovated home despite the timing of a broken down vehicle.  The storage company brought all our furniture and other boxed items back as well.  I want to see more painted walls than brown boxes. So the goal is at least one box every evening and hit it hard on the weekend.  Still need to work our jobs during the weekdays, and get to bed at a decent time every evening.

Over the years this house has been open to many people and pets. I never had much space in this 1200 square foot house to hoard too much.  Sometimes a little is a bunch with multiple families in one home. The Goodwill and other charitable organizations have already received some of our excess, with more to come.  Dean and I are becoming reformed hoarders, making decisions and not procrastinating,  detaching and not clinging, secure and not possessive.

Reformation can come in a trickle or flood,  a snow ball or avalanche,  a step or sprint, or a combination of.  Later this month I speak to a group on the subject of resilience.  One way we become more resilient is taking small steps with faith to obtain a goal, or gracefully walk or run from (or through) adversity.  And God gives us wisdom on which pace and direction.  It is never too late to turn to Him.  His voice is heard more clearly and precise as we walk with Him daily. “Are you tired? Worn out? Burned out? Come to me. Get away with me and you’ll recover your life. I’ll show you how I do it. Learn the unforced rhythms of grace. I won’t lay anything heavy or ill-fitting on you. Keep company with me and you’ll learn to live freely and lightly.” Matthew 11:28 – 30 (The Message version).  I hear the trickle of a spring-like rain. Refreshing to my soul as the daffodil in bloom this early March day.

Fill My House

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New Harmony “The well of Providence is deep. It’s the buckets we bring to it that are small”~ quoting Mary Webb. How rich is the life that shares love, how huge is the house that shares love. This is what I experience when I visit my daughters and their families. Nothing buys this life. Only love fills it. Sharing hearts, moments, gifts, talents with each other and those neighbors they are surrounded with. Once again our small home houses a daughter and her family while they recuperate and gain financial independence again.

Dean and I were able to get away for a couple of days, visited the utopian town of New Harmony, Indiana. 200 years ago German immigrants from Pennsylvania founded this town. Today, this golf cart community has an appeal and simplicity that I can understand why it is a R & R destination for some. The roofless chapel, wooded landscape, flower gardens, quiet streets, and history to admire. Midnight, our dog loved the little lake we discovered. Swimming and lapping the cool water. This swan shared her home with us for a couple of hours. So glad she did. Co-existence … “The well of Providence is deep …” New Harmony Swan

Where Does One Begin?

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Sandra Witthaus Rau Where does one begin to understand the timing of one’s life in this world? This complexity of life and death, and there are many, seems to be a mystery. I cannot comprehend with my mind, and my heart wrenches that my cousin, Sandra Witthaus Rau was taken from us on June 3. But with faith in my loving God, the Father, I pray for comfort and peace for Sandra’s son, daughter, brother, grandson, and so many family and friends. Sandra wrote poems and expressed words of wisdom beyond her years, shared with those God placed in her life. An old soul yet her laughter and zeal was contagious, and kept her young. A year ago I asked on this Word Press blog “Is The Grass Greener?”, and Sandra shared such timely advice and with grace. And it is true, Sandra, “The grass is always greener where you water it – With Love, Laughter, Family and Friends”. The last bit of wisdom left on Sandra’s FB account on May 23:
~Slow down sometimes~
Life often gets out of control. We live in busy times and as much as we try to take a step back and live in the moment often that’s just not possible. Before we know it a week has passed. A month. Maybe even a year or two.
People tell us to stop and smell the roses but instead all we see is the work that has to be done to make those roses grow. The digging and planting. The weeding and watering. Everywhere we turn we run into duties and responsibilities, tasks and chores. All those things that need to get done to make our world turn.
Is that the life we envisioned when people used to ask us what we wanted to be when we grew up? Weren’t we going to be ballerinas, astronauts and magicians? But that’s life. It has a tendency to do the unplanned. It does it without regard or consideration for our feelings or objections. It throws us in at the deep end with no life ring in sight and says swim.
Maybe we just need to embrace the unpredictability with open arms rather than constantly fight it. And more importantly, we need to see those roses for what they really are. A chance to breathe. An opportunity to live life at its fullest. A real blessing. Because after all, there are only so many roses left for each one of us.

All Of Me
Sandra, you are terribly missed. And I know you are with Grandma, cousin Billy, your Mother, your Father, and your Uncle Marty now. For this I rest my mind and find peace. I love you, Sandra!

Every Stopping Place

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Elisabeth Elliot, a Christian speaker and author who devoted her life in missionary work, lost 2 husbands while in this work, now resides with her third husband of 37 years and both retired from heavy travels. Elisabeth’s works are down to earth. See http://www.elisabethelliot.org for more information on this amazing inspirational woman. There are many differences to my life and Elisabeth Elliot’s, though similarities indeed. My education is not in theology nor my travels and work with tribes in Ecuador or Africa. I have not written books or spoke at huge conferences. Though I am a Christian and I am educated with a summa cum laude honored Bachelors of Art degree in Human Resource Management. I use my education and God-given gifts of organization and leadership with working Americans, and attempt to write inspirational thought with work communique and this WordPress blog. I speak on occasions to fellow business colleagues. Elisabeth Elliot is quoted,“It is God to whom and with whom we travel, and while He is the End of our journey, He is also at every stopping place.” I am at “a stopping place”. I can count on my two hands the number of times I can recall “a stopping place.” Every stopping place is God-ordered. I do not sense a brick wall here. Though a time to be still, reflect, pray, get reenergized, and then get back to work. I am being called into some new work…I am still today, reflecting, and praying. The strength will come for that new work. The thick clouds have rolled in this afternoon. A winter snow warning has been issued for Missouri. Predicted are several inches of snow and ice, and severe Arctic winds and temperatures to follow. Sub-zero temps will keep me in my warm house while frosty art paints the windows, God’s healing hands bring health to my body. Tasks can wait at this God-ordered stopping place. The earthly journey comes soon enough.

Bleak Mid-Winter

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the bleak mid-winter / Frosty wind made moan, / Earth stood hard as iron, / Water like a stone;/ Snow had fallen, snow on snow,/ Snow on snow, / In the bleak mid-winter / Long ago.
Our God, Heaven cannot hold Him / Nor earth sustain; / Heaven and earth shall flee away / When He comes to reign: / In the bleak mid-winter / A stable-place sufficed / The Lord God Almighty, / Jesus Christ.
Enough for Him, whom cherubim / Worship night and day, / A breastful of milk / And a mangerful of hay; / Enough for Him, whom angels / Fall down before, / The ox and ass and camel / Which adore.
Angels and archangels / May have gathered there, / Cherubim and seraphim / Thronged the air, / But only His mother / In her maiden bliss, / Worshipped the Beloved / With a kiss.
What can I give Him, / Poor as I am? / If I were a shepherd / I would bring a lamb, / If I were a wise man / I would do my part, / Yet what I can I give Him, / Give my heart.
These are the words from the poem In The Bleak Midwinter by poet Christina Rossetti, which her lyrics have made a lovely Christmas carol since the early 1900’s.
Work, work, work, and then rest. Warm, cold, warm, cold, cold … the seasons of life, some shorter than others.
The calendar says it is 3 days into winter, though the freezing cold has been around for weeks now. This week I have experienced some brief moments for reflection and observance to the reason for this Christmas season. This Sunday church attendance had picked up and we arrived just as the bells chimed, to find the pews filled. The 4th Sunday of Advent, Dean and I seated ourselves in the balcony of our 190-year old gothic-style church near the choir. The view was like of a bird’s-eye, watching as other late comers found a space or two to join the congregation while the purple vestments of the priest and deacon glittered at the altar. The most touching was the worshippers coming forth for communion, with Dean and I to join by the grace of God to commune with Him.
The song above Bleak Mid-Winter played overhead while sitting at a large novelty store. This is our last chance for shopping before Christmas gatherings. My tired feet and I awaited while my Dean was in search of the right gift for my son and son-in-law. My feet ached after standing for 7-8 hours at the spice shoppe, so I found a bit of solace in a quiet corner surrounded by books, novelities, and shoppers. Reflections of the lyrics brought me to Him. Whether it be the pure white snow, a shining star on a clear winter night, sharing intimate communion with others, or sitting in a store quietly, all and many more opportunities draw us to our Heavenly Father and His Son, Jesus Christ. He dwells amongst us. Merry Christmas to you, and may you know the gift of love and peace through Jesus Christ.