10/21/83

Thirty one years ago tomorrow I had a baby boy. It was an amazing day, followed by 11,322 (and counting) more. To say I was naive as a new Mother is an understatement.  Lordy, I was downright clueless.  But love will carry you through and miracles will bless the journey.

This guy has a heart of gold. Sure,  I may be biased. But in this case I'm also right. He gives the best hugs...and I'm pretty sure I taught him that.  He loves to hunt.  Now, he never met my Dad, but certainly his love of hunting crossed generations from his Grandpa.   

A few things about him I'm certain he'd like me to share.  He was always the first one awake in the morning.  So much so we claimed he had early ears.  Our ears were never thrilled about that. For a time he slept in his boots because he thought they were so cool. He lives to hunt and camp. He loves the Kansas City Chiefs, he would do anything for you and loves his Momma's cooking.  Smart boy, huh?

I had no idea on the first day, in those first moments, how deeply I would love him.  How do you compound those feelings over 31 years?  Anyone who knows me knows I am mathematically challenged.  Thankfully, my love is not affected by this disability. 

If my bank account said I was a wealthy woman I would buy all sorts of gifts to honor his birthday.  If we lived in the same city I'd bake and cook his favorite meal.  As it is my checkbook will never hold the depth of my love and I won't have the pleasure of hugging and feeding him on his 31st.  

But, and there is always a but, I will love him and celebrate him.  Today, more than yesterday. Tomorrow, more than today. When I count my blessings he will be on the top of the list.

Happy Birthday Craig Joseph. And many, many more.  

Love, 

Mom

Pieces, Patches and Pointers

When I was a city girl I quilted.  I belonged to a group, had a huge stash of fabric.  We encouraged each other, some might say enabled one another. Funny how life, and hobbies change.   

Years ago, when I turned 40. I asked for fabric to make a quilt in honor of that milestone birthday.  So maybe it wasn't all that many years ago, but it feels like another lifetime.  It was another lifetime.  I was recently divorced and discovering new roads to travel.

Besides sewing I began my journey with dogs.  I got one, adopted another, and another, and began fostering.  The rest as they say is history.  Of all the dogs that have passed through here only one has chewed holes in my quilts.  Rolling eyes because this behavior is his only bad habit.  Of course he chewed a hole in my birthday quilt.

It shouldn't have been such a chore to patch a blanket made of, you guessed it, pieces of fabric.  What's a couple more pieces anyway? It's rather symbolic. Woman pieces quilt, dog nibbles, woman patches quilt.  We evolve and when necessary we re-evolve.  We piece, we patch and we move on.

I have to tell you it was harder to patch that quilt than to make it.  I love that I did, and I love the dog who ate it.  I have another special quilt that he ate too, so I'm doing the mental preparation to fix it.  

Someday those quilts will hold more value in my heart because of the patches and the dog who sampled them.  He was sneaky about it, never once caught him in the act. He stole a piece of my heart in much the same way.

So in my city girl country life it seems right to get out needle & thread and do some sewing.  I'm adding layers of memories to a life rich with dog fur, fabric and love. 

Today's Word Is.....

This must be the adult version.  I distinctly remember my kids being in preschool and each day had a "letter of the day".  It was all about the alphabet then.  Real life is sometimes just like preschool in this regard.

I'd like to introduce this week's words.  Let's start with humility, perseverance, compassion, faith and empathy.   In no specific order.  Now class, look at the people around you and apply this filter....humility, perseverance, compassion, faith and empathy.

Day in and day out we cross path's with family, friends, neighbors, coworkers, and strangers in all shapes and forms. How little we actually know about them, and how likely it is we will ever bother to find out. They may be physically or emotionally ill, losing faith, unemployed, stuck in a bad relationship. They may be humbled by the circumstances of life.  They may be walking by faith.  Their faith may be failing.  They may laugh even when they'd rather be crying. It's easy to make a joke or two and leave it at that.  Been there, done that, laughed at the joke.  Been there, was the recipient of that, was hurt by the joke.

Why now, why today, why this blog?  Because whether you live in the big city, or a little town life is what we make it.  Let's make it a gentler place to reside. By applying the words of the day, by slowing down, by reaching out.

Harvesting, Planting, and The Roads of Life

It is that time of year. We are simultaneously harvesting and planting "seeds", literally and figuratively, for next season.  Life is like that.  

There is irony, agony and ecstasy.  So much of life is lived on the straight and narrow.  Life in the country is like that.  At least here, farmland is all rows, sections, and grids.  Go down a mile, take a left, repeat, repeat and you find yourself where you began.  Okay, life is not like that.  

I love the irony of be surrounded by straight rows and roads. Yet, we live on a curvy road.

Our life, love and faith journey is much like this sign. That is where the beauty of it all comes in.  Bumps, curves, growth, harvest, planting.

I learned to do canning this year.  Honestly, I've wanted to learn all my life. Maybe I needed to live in the country to embrace this process.  Wild plums, chokecherry's, tomato's, green beans, and cucumbers have all danced over my kitchen counter lately.  I have a neat and tidy (a rarity for me) shelf of canned goods in rows in the basement. I am fairly certain these same shelves held canned goods from other lives over the years.  It comforts me to put my jars there for use over the winter.  

Even as our garden is almost finished for the year we are actively planning for next year.  More raised beds, more organization (one can hope) more produce for canning.  Daffodil bulbs and garlic bulbs are being planted.  Faith, to, is being planted with each scoop of the shovel.

You know, it occurred to me recently how we go through our days oblivious. Unaware of the struggles our friends/family may be experiencing.  Blind to the beauty of the land we take for granted.  Sometimes I stop along the roads and pick up the beer cans that someone carelessly littered on our country roads. Sometimes in my haste I don't even see them. Perhaps that is our challenge. To dig deep enough to see what is before us. To plant some seeds and harvest some gratitude.  

On My Watch

Let me know when you leave for here. Let me know when you get home. Don't laugh.  How many times have you heard me say this? My kids will say all, and I do mean ALL the time. 

I know they can get everywhere they need to go in life without checking in with me.  But on my watch, I need to know they are safe.   

On my watch in the city, I used to pray whenever I heard a siren or saw a cop or fire truck en route.  Now my watch includes the farmers, the crop dusters, the truckers on the road and an occasional 13 stripe squirrel racing for his hole in the road. Now why? Why would a squirrel build a home in the middle of the road? Boggles my little blonde head I tell you.   

My watch include our dogs and foster dogs.  My social media friends, and you bet, their dogs too.  I should be tired from all this watching, but mostly I am blessed.

Lately I've been watching the corn and beans grow and the pivot roll. I walk the garden and watch it grow daily.  I watch the 4 0'clocks open and close. Sometimes twice a day. Probably sounds like I've lost my mind.  But I beg to differ. 

In the comings and goings of life we need to watch more of what we love. And love more of what we watch. So if I ask you to let me know when you get home, or when you are leaving for here take it as a compliment.  I rest easier when all on my watch are safe and accounted for.  

Next Four Exits....

Next four exits....could mean anything.  Last chances, next chances, close to the destination, beyond....

We have four exits...and have a sign to prove it.  Now, the state didn't post the sign.  It's tongue-in-cheek.  It looks like a genuine road sign, but it is just a genuine reproduction of a road sign. Sometimes we need a sign. Sometimes we are the sign.

Patterson, Main, and Scott are three of the exits.  Don't blink or you'll miss them. Now, I'll have to do some research to figure out who Patterson and Scott are, or were as the case may be.  Main Street goes without saying. Pretty much every town is founded with a Main Street. Perhaps you drive one daily.

The story is told that the sign was for visitors from the East coast coming for a wedding.  They kept asking for directions and which exit to take. Granted we are a little difficult to find.  But which exit is rarely an issue. Perhaps you can see the humor in our sign saying Stockham, Next 4 Exits.

The last exit, or the first depending on which way you are coming, is Grace Street.  Quite fitting.  We could all use a street full of grace. Maybe even more than a street full.  If that is the case, I'd like all the exits to lead to grace.  The next four, heck, even the next 44.  Even if that never happens, I know we've found grace in Stockham.  

Little Town

Over the years we've downsized just a bit.  From living in a city with a population of roughly 1.3 million residents within a 50 mile radius, to a city with a population just shy of 50,000, to a village with a population of about 42.  You might think we're nuts. There was a time we pondered that possibility. Now, we know for a fact insanity is not our problem. Okay, you might still think we're nuts, but we don't and that's all that matters.

Since we live just outside of town, we rarely see the other 42 of our closest neighbors.  Good thing I like my husband.  Better yet I like the privacy, best of all we love the countryside.

What we are delighting in is the sense of community and camaraderie we have found in our little town. It's like an onion (assuming you like onions), layer upon layer to be unpeeled over the seasons. 

A year ago, we'd been here for 9 months and hardly knew a soul. Speculation was we were members of the witness protection program. Now we know most everyone, and we're slightly less suspect. We've been to the town bbq/street dance, July 4th picnic, golf tournament, glow ball tournament, hog butchering, the local cemetery and a progressive dinner.  In no specific order. There is a men's group and a women's group.  This might be heaven.

Alright, I heard you snicker at that last comment.  Life is what you make of it. It is not the size of the city that makes you belong.  It is the investment you make in it.  

So on this Independence Day we celebrate our country, and our "country".   We do this with fireworks in the sky, in our hearts and gratitude for our little town.