A Lazy Saturday

It's  Saturday, with the rain pounding on the roof. I  love Saturdays...and I love rain.  I don't feel particularly ambitious, having spent a restless night...again.  This weather causes me to feel sleepy, too, so I'm thinking that today's work load will be lighter than usual, letting machines do most of the work....like the laundry and the dishes.

I have a lot of 'busy work' to do too. I've got to think of a menu plan for guests who will be here next month, and see what's in the larder and what needs to be shopped for. There is mending waiting and my cards to make for our church people's birthdays, etc.  I'm making a gift for a new baby, too, so perhaps I'll get to that in awhile.  The heavier things will wait until next week, I guess. 

My plans to do some sanding and painting of some wooden items for the house will have to wait too.  I started yesterday, and got the bench painted. It needs another coat, though, before I can sand the spots I need to in order to make it look more primitive.  How silly is that, really? To purchase a wooden bench, newly made by an Amish man, John Bieler, many years ago in New Holland, Pennsylvania, hold on to it all this time, and then sand it, paint it, and scuff it up to look old?  Well, silly or not...that's what I'm doing.

I seem to have a want to make things look old, even if they aren't, in my decorating. It's my current fad, while I do my best to ward off my own aging!  It's kind of ironic, I guess. I don't go overboard on trying to make things look older, most of them already ARE pre-used things. More than that, I don't put a great deal of exertion in trying to preserve my own youth, either.  I sort of go with the flow, doing the best I can to look as well as I can, while preserving as much health as I am able. 

But today, I barely have the energy to put moisturizer on my skin!  I'm grateful that I have nothing pressing to do and absolutely nowhere to go.   It truly is a lazy Saturday!

A Different Kind of Blog, Part 2

Bible sighed as he watched Owner, who had risen from the chair and was pacing. Looking at the day through the rain splatter window pane, Owner  noticed that there were a couple of people walking up the driveway toward the front door. "Oh great," he muttered. He was not in the mood to see anyone and certainly not a couple carrying what looked like Bibles. He went to the wooden front door and stood behind it where he couldn't be seen. The doorbell rang loudly. He ignored it.
It rang twice more before the couple turned and walked away, down the driveway to the street.  Owner waited a few minutes and then returned to the window where he could see the couple getting into a black car and driving away.

He went to the kitchen and made a cup of coffee. He sat in 'his' chair at the table and took a long gulp of the strong, hot liquid. It did nothing to steady his shaken spirit. He was feeling down and hopeless. The phone rang. He rose and went to the phone, flicking the switch so that he wouldn't hear the ringing.  He wanted to be alone  to come to grips with his situation and to try to think up a resolution.  He picked up his coffee mug and went back to his recliner chair, where he plunked himself, staring off into the sparcely furnished room.

He sat like that for a half hour until he heard the mailman slam shut the stubborn door of the mailbox.  He gave the mailman a moment or two to move on to his next stop, and then Owner went to collect the day's mail.  As he lifted the handful of envelopes from the box, a small folded paper peeked out from between the Lowe's ad and the water bill.  All he could see of it was  "Got Problems?" written on the glossy little booklet.  He pulled it out of the stack, and held it in his hand as he tossed the pile of mail on the table next to his chair.

He looked at the front of the tract.  There, under the question that had caught his attention, was a photograph of a man who sat, running his hands through his hair. He looked as if he was under some real pressure. He looked as if he felt just the way Owner was feeling.   Owner began to read the small black type beneath the photo.  "Come unto Me, all ye who are weak and heavy laden. I will give you rest." Matt. 11:28    "Come unto who?" Owner said as he kept reading. He read the entire tract, seeing words that said that God loved him and cared how his life was spent. It said that God was there for him and no matter what the circumstance, that God would help him through it.  The little pamphlet explained how a person could get 'saved' from sin, from a life that displeased God. It went on to say that once the request for forgiveness was made in earnest, God would send His Spirit to lead the way, to protect and to help the reader to grow in the Light of God's Love by the reading of His Word, the Bible, and by getting involved in a Bible believing church. Then.... it asked the reader to make a decision for Christ.

Owner's heart was beating hard.  He hadn't even thought about God in years. He'd gone to Sunday School as a child, but it wasn't continued after he was in the sixth grade. His head was swimming with the disaster that his life had become, and the thoughts that there was Someone who said He cared and could help.  Owner reread the entirety of the small four pages. Then he read it again. With every word, he felt, "I need to give this a try. If it's true, it's going to help. If it's not true, well, I'll be no worse off. But I won't know if I don't give it a try."

Owner held the paper between his fingers, as he read aloud the prayer for forgiveness. As he did, he felt his heartbeat slowing. He felt his spirit quieting. In a moment, he realized that he had read the prayer...but he didn't think it was more than reading. He felt that he needed to put it into his own words. He sat, with his eyes closed, quiet for a moment, and then he spilled it all out to God in his own words. He didn't stop with the asking for forgiveness. He asked God to really be there, to really be his friend through all of his life. Owner asked Him to show him how to live a more pleasing life in God's ways, not his own.  He  finished his prayer. He'd found relief in the meaningful, tearful talk he'd just had with God.

He looked again at the little tract. On the last page it read, 'Get to know Jesus. Start with the Gospel of John."  Owner got up, walked to the bookshelf, scanned the titles, and he gently picked up the book with black leather cover. The gold letters read, "The Holy Bible. "  He slowly walked back to his chair and began to thumb through the pages, until he found the book of John. 

Outside the sun was breaking through the gray clouds. Inside of Owner, the Son was breaking through the gloomy spirit. Was this the beginning of a new outlook? What would this mean for Owner's future. As time goes on, we may find out. In the meantime, we will wait to see.

Aunts: Part Five

The fact is that I had two more aunts that really should be mentioned, although I didn't know them at all. They were my mother's half sisters. My grandfather had been a young man with two babies when his first wife died of diabetes. His mother took the role of caregiver to her granddaughters, as he was a working man.

When Grandpa remarried two or three years after the death of his first wife, the babies had known no other 'mother' than the grandmother. I suppose that's the reason they remained with her rather than coming to live with my grandfather and grandmother. I'm not sure whether I agree with that decision, but it doesn't matter, as it was not mine to make.

I did meet both of these aunts in my childhood. I went to school with some of their children, and my children were in classes with their children, but we had no real 'family' relationship with them. I know very little of any of them other than what I've written. I hope they were secure and happy being raised by grandparents, rather than parents, and I pray they didn't feel as if they'd been abandoned or unwanted by their father and his new wife. I think, if I was in their place, that thought might have crossed my mind. But, this was not my story... it was theirs, and I'm afraid I must bring it to an end, for lack of information.

A Different Blog Entry

This morning I'll present a different sort of blog entry.  Sometimes you get 'writer's block'  or feel that what you have to write is 'flat' and not worth presenting. So, for fun, I looked for an idea that would kick start my creative engine. The idea here is to write about two characters, with the Bible being one of them.  This is  what the result was, once I started writing.  I don't know whether I will return to this, or whether it is finished. We will see in the future.

Bible sits upon the book shelf, lonely, silent and ignored. One day, Owner comes to the bookshelf, scanning the titles, anxious for something to read that will take his mind off the many weighty issues he thinks about. Bible whispers, "choose me, choose me! I can help you."

Owner chooses a crime novel, not a light-hearted story, for sure. Bible slips back into silent retreat, the whispered desires have been unheard. Owner walks away and plunks himself heavily into his arm chair. As he begins to read, the words wind around his inner thoughts, and briefly take him away to a world darker than his own life. But it doesn't last, and before long, Owner's life invades his thoughts again.

Bible watches as Owner puts the book down on his side table and lays his head against the back of the recliner. He put his hand up to his forehead and rubbed his temples. As he did, he tapped his foot as his stress returned. His life was plagued with upset these days. His place of employment was cutting jobs a few at a time, and he felt that his might be one of them in the near future. It is never a good time to lose a job, but now would be the worst. In his area, work was scarce, and he would be over-qualified for anything that might be available. On top of that, his life had been one big party-time, and he was reaping the benefits of that.


Bible could see these looming clouds and knew that there were things between his covers  that could help to encourage Owner. But, Bible would not shout out. He would not plunge himself into the hands of Owner when the books were being scanned. Bible sat patiently waiting. Perhaps there would come a time in the future when Owner would notice that Bible was there.

The Name Game

Names have always interested me. I like to explore their meanings and I like to see how families use the same names in multiple generations.

Do you know why you were given the name you bear today? I was not named Kathleen for any other reason than my mother liked the name. I was meant to be called my full name, but someone shortened it to 'Kathy' when I was little, and it stuck. When I was about forty years old, I decided that I was too old to carry that childish version, and whenever I'd meet someone new, I would introduce myself using my full first name rather than the trimmed down model of it.

Names are serious business! You really have to put some effort into thinking far ahead of the present time. Children are very good at turning the most beautiful name into the worst possible , most embarressing thing they can find. Sometimes parents aren't very kind when they think it's 'cute' to name a child something like Holly Bush, Rose Budd or Kelly Green. The poor kid never live it down.

 In doing my husband's ancestral research, there are Elizabeths and Margarets and Williams and Johns and Thomases  on both sides of the family, making things difficult to keep track of. To make matters worse, it seems that the Marshalls married into the Mortland family more than twice, and there are also three different Ward families interspersed, with no relation to the other Wards. There are those in his families who used old family surnames as middle or first names, so we've got Marshall Mortland and Marsha Mortland and Margaret Mortland whose father was a cousin who died young, leaving a widow who married his cousin, a Marshall. Are you confused yet?  Try doing that family's Family Tree!

I'm grateful that I have my own name.  I don't have to live up to anyone else's reputation or better yet, I don't have to overcome a namesake's past mistakes.  No one will get me confused with another member of the bunch, if ever they try to untangle the family roots. My brothers might create some bit of confusion, being Tom and John, named for my Dad and great grandfather and his grandfather, and others who had the names further back. Thomas lives on in my nephew who bears it as his middle name.

Sometimes a name just doesn't seem to fit the child who wears it, and before you know it, for one reason or another, the kid has been given a nickname.  And what about the professionals who work in a field that complete fits their name? Stay tuned. Those are topics that I'll visit on another day.

Aunts: Part Four

There was one more aunt in the family. She was my father's sister. Our familiess lived only five or six miles from each other, but we rarely saw each other. Aunt Esther was eleven years older than my father, and she married young, so they had little time to get to know one another as children. Her first three children were born within a few short years, and  she was busy with them, while Daddy was growing up. His neices were born when he was a young boy and I don't imagine he had a great deal of interest in girl babies when they would visit.

What I knew of Aunt Esther, I liked, but I must admit that I didn't know her very well. She would come to visit us occasionally while I was growing up. She was soft spoken, kind and she reminded me of my grandmother, her mother. In her middle age, the same year that two of her daughters gave her the first two grandchildren, Aunt Esther had her son. With the first part of the family being 14 years or so older than I was and the last child being a good bit younger and a boy to boot, I didn't know those cousins well either, when I was a young girl. However, as I grew older, I got to know them, and their children better and am in contact with some of them via Facebook. Those are the children of my older (first) cousins who have passed away. Their brother is still alive, never married, and has no children.

I digress. Aunt Esther was built much the way my grandmother was. She had the features of the Case family too. The last time I saw her, she was beautiful at 79 years old, with snowy white hair, like my grandmother's sisters had. Aunt Esther always had thick gray hair with enough wave so that she never needed to put a curler in it. I've determined that she and Daddy both got their wavy hair from Grandma, as Grandpa's hair was thin and poker straight.

This aunt of mine was as talented as the aunts on Mom's side, but in a different way. She was able to draw and paint quite well. I've determined that she and Dad both got that talent from Grandma, as well. I don't have any idea whether Grandpa had an artistic bone in his body, but Grandma drew pictures and painted with me, so I know that she did. When Aunt Esther had free time, she painted pictures...fishing boats, the ocean. Things that she knew and things that she loved.

The ocean was dear to her. Her home was near enough so that she could hear the ocean if the wind was right. She spent much time walking on the beach, and when the weather was right, she swam in the strong sea. If the sea was too wild, she would opt for swimming in the bay. She knew them both well, and enjoyed them both.

I wish I had one of her paintings of the sea. It would hang in a special place in my home, but her son, and grandchildren too, will not part with her work for love nor money. I don't blame them, and hold no ill toward them for their decision. Still, it doesn't not quench my desire for one. When she died, in 1997 I believe, there were many of her painting surrounding the casket. It seemed a fitting send off, her family thought, to surround her with her precious art work.

Whenever I see the ocean in Amagansett, I cannot help but think of Aunt Esther, and wonder how it would have been if I had known her better. What would I have learned of her, of my grandparents and my father, had I had a chance to visit with her often? I can only imagine, and I'm left to wish that I had known that part of my family more intimately.

Decorating: Part 2

Waiting seems to work. If I keep listening and remember, things fall into place. There were a collection of 'ideas' gathered from things Mom has said over some period of time. "I'd like a rug with a border around it, but a pattern in the center, not a plain center." "I'd like a rocking chair." "I want to use burgandy in my living room." So, when I spotted a large area rug with burgandy, cream and a little leaf green, I knew it would be perfect. The price was good too, so I immediately called Mom to tell her about it. She trusted my judgement, and I purchased it. It turns out that it's perfect! Whew!

Now...the couch is covered with a burgandy slipcover, with cream throw pillows. The rug is in place, the rocker is in the corner. Mom happened to have some burgandy fabric with a slight pattern with which to cover the wicker chair cushions. I had some sheer drapes which I gave to her that will work well in the room. So far, so good.

Since Mom doesn't watch tv much, I would truly like to either remove from the room and put it into her computer room or to find a small, taller unit in which to place it. It currently sits on a heavy table. It's an older, 'bulky' model, rather than a sleek flat screen. It works fine, so there's no need to replace it, but it does cause the eye to take note of it's husky shape. Maybe we'll get to that. I'd also like to see a nice book case for the wall between the living room and the kitchen, and perhaps some standing lamps, rather than the too-short table lamps. I think the table lamps prevent Mom from seeing to the best of her limited ability.

The next step in the process now is to get the samplers and photos in place on the wall. She also has a small quilt that she made which she wants to hang over her couch. We just need to figure out how to hang it so that it is best displayed. Personally, I think the quilt pattern is a bit too 'busy' for the room, but it is Mom's decision and I'll do what she likes.

It's surprising how uplifting a 're-do' is, whether it is to our physical appearance or to our surrounding space. The job is nearly done, and thus far, Mom seems to be very happy with the way things look. We'll stay on the hunt for whatever idea comes up, and before you know it, Mom will be sitting in a room that is completely renewed!