Another Day in the Hospital

My Dad is back in the hospital. He went for his dialysis treatment this morning and the nurse was alarmed to discover his heartbeat was very rapid. They put off dialysis and told him to get to the emergency room.

So we got one of "those" early morning calls, and off we went. Dad has been to the hospital so often in the past eighteen months the nurses all know him by name. They are so sweet and concerned. There is something about my Mom and Dad that just makes everyone want to adopt them. They can't have them though - they're ours.

Life is precious - at any age. After sixty-three years of marriage my Dad can hardly bear to be separated from his bride for even one night. He calls her frequently just to hear her voice.

Their faith has been a strong foundation for our family for many, many years. It has sustained us all during those times we thought we just couldn't survive. We, each child, grandchild and great-grandchild, know that they pray for us by name every morning when they have their devotions together. And we, in turn, pray for them.




Blessings,

A Watered Garden

We have gone from extreme drought conditions in our part of the country to extraordinary drought. We are desperate for rain. The heat from the sun is unrelenting - triple digit weather for days - making it difficult for anything to survive. Our lawns are drying up and water restrictions allow for watering only once a week. With so little water, it is a losing battle. The grass is turning brown; it is dying.

We are allowed to water with a hand-held hose, and while there is simply too much lawn to make that possible, I have been drenching the flowers in my little flower bed with life-giving liquid whenever they begin to droop. They are doing well. In spite of the conditions surrounding them, they continue to grow - a picture of life in the midst of devastating circumstances.

They are a visual reminder of what the Lord wants to do in my life. There are times of drought; times when circumstances overwhelm and I struggle just to make it through the day. The assault can seem relentless at times...

To read the rest of this devotional please visit Laced With Grace.

Blessings,

Wisdom from Laura Ingalls Wilder

Home

"Out in the meadow, I picked a wild sunflower, and as I looked into its golden heart, such a wave of homesickness came over me that I almost wept. I wanted Mother, with her gentle voice and quiet firmness; I longed to hear Father's jolly songs and to see his twinkling blue eyes; I was lonesome for the sister with whom I used to play in the meadow picking daisies and wild sunflowers.

Across the years, the old home and its love called to me, and memories of sweet words of counsel came flooding back. I realize that all my life the teachings of those early days have influenced me, and the example set by Father and Mother has been something I have tried to follow, with failures here and there, with rebellion at times; but always coming back to it as the compass needle to the star.

So much depends upon the homemakers. I sometimes wonder if they are so busy now with other things that they are forgetting the importance of this special work...

Because of their importance, we must not neglect our homes in the rapid changes of the present day. For when tests of character come in later years, strength to the good will not come from the modern improvements or amusements few may have enjoyed but from the quiet moments and the 'still small voices' of the old home.

Nothing ever can take the place of this early home influence, and as it does not depend upon externals, it may be in possession of the poor as well as of the rich, a heritage from all fathers and mothers to their children.

The real things of life that are the common possession of us all are of the greatest value - worth far more than motor cars or radios, more than lands or money - and our whole store of these wonderful riches may be revealed to us by such a common, beautiful thing as a wild sunflower."

Long before she penned the timeless "Little House" books, Laura Ingalls Wilder offered timeless wisdom in articles for regional newspapers and magazines. I came across a little volume of them entitled "Writings To Young Women From Laura Ingalls Wilder: On Life As A Pioneer Woman".

As I read her words, written in August 1923, I thought how appropriate they were for us today. That is the way with real wisdom - it really knows no boundaries of time. This articl opens a little window into the family life (a life she would some day share with thousands of devoted readers), of a beloved author. Beloved, by me at least, because she reminds us of those things in life that have real value, and she does it so beautifully.

Blessings,

Peace

"Neither go back in fear and misgiving to the past, nor in anxiety and forecasting to the future; but lie quiet under His hand, having no will but His."
H.E. Manning

It is the place of peace and contentment.

Blessings,

picture: flickr - Daniela Duncan

Dark Days

I shouldn't write on days like these. They come so infrequently and are quickly gone. But they are a part of this journey. I don't want to remember just the good days. I want to remember the days like this one - where I feel so small and everything else looms so large - because He is still here.

On a day like this, though no different really from the days leading up to it, circumstances press in and weigh heavy on the heart. The sun still shines, but all is shrouded in darkness. He calls with that still, small voice, and I turn away. Away from exactly what I need, choosing instead to sit in the darkness.

His is a persistent love. Since I will not come to Him, He comes to me whispering the very words I've memorized this past week:

"I pray that God, the source of hope, will fill you completely with joy and peace because you trust in Him. Then you will overflow with confident hope through the power of the Holy Spirit."
Romans 15:13

A tiny shaft of light pierces the darkness and hope begins to rise once again.

Blessings,

My Journal

Ann has been writing a series of posts on Journaling. They are inspiring and beautifully written. They will make you want to run out and purchase a blank book and get writing.

I kept a Journal for years when my children were younger and still at home. I poured my heart onto the pages and a little stack of floral covered books grew on my closet shelf. One day, after reading through a few of the entries, I decided that I really didn't want anyone else to read them. Some of the things might be hurtful taken out of context; some things just really didn't need to be shared with anyone else.

So I sat on the floor and for several hours tore them all to bits. I had a couple of large garbage bags filled with the remnants of years of journaling when I was finished. I wasn't terribly sad. I knew it was right. They had served their purpose. They had given me a place to record and sort through the things we were walking through in those years.

I decided that from then on I would keep a more "generic" sort of Journal - nothing too deeply personal. It worked well for a while, but over time I found I couldn't really write about my daily life without my "heart" making its way onto the pages. When I begin to put words on paper, they seem to take on a life of their own. I have managed to install a little "editor" that makes sure I don't write anything about a person I wouldn't want them to read. Other than that, my Journal has once again become the place where I process my life.

This is my current Journal. I got the idea from Ann. It is my second sketch book that I have fashioned into my Journal. The first one was much smaller, and I found I wanted more space to paste pictures and write. So I bought a bigger one the second time around. I decorated the cover with pictures from my magazines.


This is the very first page.

I use my Journal to write lists of things I want to get done during the day, to record the noteworthy events and special occassions - like our trip to California. I saved bits and pieces to paste into the Journal as we traveled.



I also record my thoughts, quotations that are meaningful to me, prayer requests, and little conversations with the Lord. I also incorporate my gratitude list as I write and then mark them with a little heart so I can easily find them when I glance back.

Sometimes I have so many pretty pictures I just fill the pages with them.



I have also started a little Jounal that I use during my Quiet Time - to record what I hear the Lord speaking to me through His word and to write out my thoughts. There is something about the act of writing things out that settles and defines them.

My blog is also a Journal of sorts. The things I post lately are things that I want to remember - things that have touched me in some way. Often they are just simple little things, but I have found it is easy to lose the memory when we have so many other things bombarding our minds on a daily basis. I especially want to record the things the Lord is showing me. I am setting down markers along the way so I don't forget those things. I want to remember the blessings and the joys and the simple pleasures He so graciously pours into my life. I want to remind myself of His faithfulness so that when life gets difficult, as it inevitably does, I will be encouraged by the things He has done for me in the past. I also want to remember the answers to prayer. So when I write, I am really writing to myself because I always think I will never forget and then I do.

I love words....they hold such potential for good. I want to use them wisely.

Blessings,

The Exam

Every six months we take this journey. My husband and I have been taking it for over twenty years now. I begin to pray about it several days in advance, asking the Lord to make all things well. I never look forward to it and can't wait until it is over.

All those years ago, years and years of diabetes began to take its toll on my husband. The point of attack was his eyes. It started with bleeding in the back of his eyes as the tiny blood vessels began to break down. The first doctor he saw said there was no hope. He was going blind.

We saw other doctors and after many painful surgeries and laser treatments he did lose the vision in one eye - but the other vision in the other was preserved. It is very fragile, however, so every six months we go for his eye exam.

His eye doctor is heaven-sent - quite literally as far as I'm concerned. He is kind and compassionate, and most importantly, an excellent doctor. We saw him yesterday.

It is always the same. We walk into the examining room and share small talk and laughter. Then he darkens the room and the exam begins. I sit in a chair in a corner and, with butterflies in my stomach, pray. It is so quiet. I wait.

Then the doctor turns, lights up the room again and smiles. "Everything looks great!"
I breath again and softly whisper, "Thank You Lord."

I can't quite explain the joy that fills my heart. It is knowing that all is well; knowing that He has heard and answered my prayer. Most of all it is feeling like a little child caught in the huge embrace of a loving Father. I am so small, and He is so big - and yet He is mindful of me. More than mindful - He is with me.

Father - thank You for loving me.

Blessings,