May 9, 2010

May 9, 2010

My first post.
My first disclaimer.

In that post so many years ago, there is no picture, only one paragraph.  There were no "followers" to read it.  There were no welcoming comments.

I recently listened to a HopeWriter's podcast on if and when the writer might need to "pivot",  change direction.  I've thought about it a lot lately, but then when I read my opening statement I'm still pretty fond of my beginning direction.  Today I might tweak it a bit... I've given up on perfection.

My passion is to find the beauty, the blessings, in the ordinary.... a kitchen experiment,  a good book, a beautiful flower, a garden visitor, a trip with my husband or an outing with my grandchildren.

We live in  a stress filled broken world.  It seems everyone is thirsty for something that unbeknownst to most of us is just under our nose.  My hope is through sharing my journey, my faith,  I give you something to make you smile, and maybe ponder.

Thank you for visiting.
Thank you for staying.

I write for me, but you keep me encouraged.




  

    

Thanks for the Memories!

Sigh! 

The sun has set on my last day of summer vacation. 

This has been one of the best summers.  
I don't know about you, but sometimes I work so hard at trying to make everything perfect, to keep everything picked-up and running on time, I forget to have fun.  And, I probably make everyone around me miserable. This year, I decided to sit back and enjoy the mess.  What I learned is, well, it is the best.

Here are a few scenes from my messy wonderful summer.

There were kitchen creations.

Help was always welcome

when creating sweet masterpieces.

Roger and I celebrated 36 years.

Sometimes we chased fire trucks,

because,  someone loves fire trucks.

Naps were a must.

Evenings were spent at the pool swimming
and just being cute.

There were surprises parked around every corner.

 There was the occasional impromptu game of 

monster bowling in the kitchen.

And, if you lost your shoes....

check on the stool.  
Seriously?  Where else might they be?

On a sad note.
We said goodbye to our children's dog,
I loving called the Diva.

Sweet Raven is greatly missed.

Summer is over. 
 The toys have been put away, and
the silence is deafening.
Oh, the memories!

I hope you have enjoyed a wonderful summer.
And a great Labor Day weekend.

Autumn.... we are awaiting your arrival!

Seven Years of Ramblings

Seven years ago one of my moms suggested I write a blog.  I played around a bit, then one Saturday morning in May  I gathered the courage, wrote a profile and hit publish.    

Wow, seven years ago!  

The first year or so I spent finding my voice.  I sometimes go back to reread my post... some are so far off the mark and some surprise me.  There are posts that I became so passionate about my subject I lost track of my writing and it became gibberish.   In the beginning, like many beginning bloggers, I battled between developing a blog persona and wanting to be authentic.   I hope I have been and continue to be successful at being real.

Where do I go from here?  
A lot has happened over the last few years.   I'm learning to accept imperfection and enjoy the process and time saved.  I honestly don't know where I'm headed.  I am going to stop worry about quantity.  I have a few ideas running around in my head.  I'm doing a little test driving on Instagram.  Join me if you are interested, livingbeeslife.   I do know, I will continue to share God's blessings found in ordinary moments of Living Life.   

Thank you for reading, lifting me up and helping me through the last seven years.  I appreciated each and everyone of you and all of your comments.

Hugs and wishes for a great weekend!

Summer Reading

"One benefit of summer was that each day 

we had more light to read by."

Jeannette Wall,  The Glass Castle

This morning in church I sat with a friend, a fellow teacher.  I ask her how her summer was going.  (We have a four week summer program the month of June, so we've actually only been out a week.)  She said she hasn't slowed down, and asked what I had been up to.  I answered with one word...reading.

There is nothing I enjoy more in the summer than sitting outside and reading.  Oh, I keep up with the day-to-day chores, but when those are accomplished, and no one is calling my name,  I am ready to grab a glass of iced tea, a book, and find a shady spot in the garden (my poor neglected garden) to read.

In April I wrote (gushed) about Anthony Doerr's, All the Light We Cannot See.  I began telling everyone who would listen about it in November.   I am probably repeating myself; it was the best book I read in 2014.

The jury is still out, but I may have read my best book of 2015.  The author?
Anthony Doerr is destined to become a favorite.

About Grace

"He called them dreams.  Not Auguries or visions exactly, or presentiments or premonitions.  Calling them dreams let him edge as close as he could to what they were:  sensations --experiences, even-that visited him as he slept and faded after he woke, only to reemerge in the minutes or hours or days to come."

Do you have premonitions?
 I do... sometimes.

Sometimes they come in dreams.
Sometimes I awake with a foreboding feeling something is about to go wrong.
   Sometimes the phone will ring and I know who is calling.
I think of them as accidents.  Accidents perhaps brought on by prior gathered information, but unsettling all the same.

David Winkler had premonitions.  He dreams his daughter drowns in his arms while trying to save her.  Believing he can alter the future he leaves, abandoning his wife and daughter during the predicted flood.   Doerr takes us on David's journey from Alaska to the Caribbean, where with little money he manages to live and survive with the help of strangers.  Strangers who are also refuges with little means.   After twenty five years of unanswered phone calls and returned letters he saves the money to return home to face the consequences of his leaving.

 Doerr hands us a beautifully layered novel reminding the reader, we do the best we can with the information handed to us.  At some point we must make peace with our choices, make amends to those we love and learn to forgive ourselves.

What is your favorite book this year?
Bring it with you...we can talk.
You are always welcome in the garden.

******

To everyone who commented on my last post and sent personal emails, thank you.  I am humbled by your thoughts and prayers.   You raised me up, and I am grateful.  Hugs!

The Voice of Melancholy

When I started Living Life in 2010 I knew nothing about blogging (I still don't).  I wanted to write, to tell stories.  I wanted to write about living everyday and finding the blessings...
grace, in and among the ordinary...a good book, a simple meal, a smile.

Life is very much like writing.
Some days the words flow beautifully together creating something worth keeping.
The next there is struggle, emotion and nothing pretty comes from it.  Both are gifts.  One teaches gratitude, the other patience.  Right now I am frozen somewhere in-between.    

It has been a difficult couple of months.

It has been a long few years.  

I don't know where to begin; perhaps this is more about an end.
An end I saw coming.

I suppose that is exactly where I am at the present.  I am trying to move forward,

 but not ready to leave the past behind.  My heart is broken.

A month ago, I left the town where I grew up with two SUVs loaded.  My dad's life was sorted, divided and packed up before his funeral.  I will not say anything here, except the boxes have remained sealed.   I am not ready.  

I smile. 

 When asked, I reply I am doing okay...  

It is what most want to hear, grief is uncomfortable
when it belongs to someone else.
One day I will be okay.
I've been here before.

I've recently thought of closing Living Life, of just not returning.   I didn't know how to show back up on the page without exposing my heavy heart.  I then remembered why I began.  I wanted to write...I wanted to write about living everyday.  And, sometimes that living everyday gets messy.

 Loss and grief are thrown in front of all of us at sometime.  There is no escape.   We each cope differently, no one's grief is greater than another, and we move on, as best we can.  There is no right or wrong.  It is part of living this life.

The blessing...
 we heal...
time is the ointment....
memories the bandage.

Hugs to you all,

and thank you for reading!

Think...Happy

Who knew?

Watching a favorite morning news show I learned today is International Day of Happiness.  Did you know?  Bulletin boards have been set up in various cities for people to post the things
that make them happy.

Why does this excite me?
Happiness breeds happiness.
Happy thoughts can heal many ills.
I enjoy being around those who are positive and enjoy life.
One day is not going to solve problems, mend broken hearts or bring about
world peace, but it is a great place to begin; and, it may make someone's day
a little brighter.  Now, that is a happy thought!

Many many years ago I kept a notebook of all of my favorite things.   I seem to remember it began while listening to a lecture that was taking me to tears.   Through the days and months my notebook was taken over with my list and became a constant in my stack of books throughout the remainder of the school year.  I wish I had kept the notebook...I wish I had continued making the list.  It was one of those things, at a certain age, you look back at and think "how childish" and toss it aside.    Today, I don't think of it as childish at all.

It is without saying being with my family tops my list of happiness; here are
 a few random things that bring a joy to my heart.

...laughing out loud
...rising before daybreak for a little quiet time
...the beginning of the seasons
...my hands in the dirt
...the end of summer
...a good book
...heck, a stack of books
...a good glass of wine
...standing beside the ocean

My list could go on and on.  Now I want to hear from you.
What makes you happy?

Happiness doesn't belong to just one day.
It is for everyone, everyday.

I hope you are smiling!

Altered

I had wonderful plans for 2015.  I wanted to spend more time writing.  I've been researching creative writing classes.   I have a list of book to read much longer than anyone could ever conquer;  it continues to grow.  There is yarn collecting in the basket screaming to be turned into fabulous hats, sweaters and maybe a pair of mittens.  So many plans.....

Then things changed; my world has been slightly and temporarily altered.  My writing has fallen by the wayside.  I am so far behind in my reading I am getting notices reminding me of titles on my "to read list".   I can't remember when I've picked up the needles. These last few weeks I have spent my idle hours with  my daughter and Wyatt.  While my son-in-law is away training, my grandson and his mommy are staying with R. and me.  

It has been an adjustment for everyone.  

In every room there is evidence a baby is in the house.  There is a bit more laundry and a few extra trips to the grocery store.  Everyone pitches in making light work.   I have had to acknowledge there are now two moms, and I am in the supporting role.  This is not an easy task for the one who always wanted to be the mother in control.   The first week was a bit chaotic, however, we have slowly eased into a new normal.  

There have been a few sleepless nights...sleep can be overrated.

At night I wake each time the baby cries.  I lost the ability to sleep through an explosion, when his mother was an infant.  Some nights I lie awake hoping he will whimper, then I will know all is well.   I am reminded of the nights I would slip into my daughter's nursery and lay my hand on her back just to feel her breathing.

We have a few more weeks with our daughter and grandson.   Though I had hoped to return to posting routinely,  I will be in and out for awhile longer, as I am going to spend every possible minute enjoying my time with two of my favorite people.  Though my world has tilted a bit; I know when all is set back in order, the quiet will be deafening and the routine will seem a bit lonely.  Today I am here living life with a grateful heart.

Did I mention, there are two extra dogs as well?

Joyful, Joyful

1. 
   
   Joyful, joyful, we adore Thee,
   God of glory, Lord of love;
   Hearts unfold like flow’rs before Thee,
   Op’ning to the sun above.
   
   
   
   
   
   
   Melt the clouds of sin and sadness;
   Drive the dark of doubt away;
   Giver of immortal gladness,
   Fill us with the light of day!

All Thy works with joy surround Thee,

Earth and heav’n reflect Thy rays,

Stars and angels sing around Thee,

Center of unbroken praise.

1. 

   
   
   Field and forest, vale and mountain,
   Flow’ry meadow, flashing sea,
   Singing bird and flowing fountain
   Call us to rejoice in Thee.
   
   
2. 
   
   
   Thou art giving and forgiving,
   Ever blessing, ever blest,
   Wellspring of the joy of living,
   Ocean depth of happy rest!
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
   Thou our Father, Christ our Brother,
   All who live in love are Thine;
   Teach us how to love each other,
   Lift us to the joy divine.
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
   Mortals, join the happy chorus,
   Which the morning stars began;
   Father love is reigning o’er us,
   Brother love binds man to man.
   
   
3. 
   
   
   Ever singing, march we onward,
   Victors in the midst of strife,
   Joyful music leads us Sunward
   In the triumph song of life.

The Story of a Gown

Lately, I feel like a broken record.   Each time I sit down to write I go on and on about how time is getting the best of me.  I am going to try to not go there today...okay, you know I'm thinking it though...right?

I have been busy with a very important project.   My daughter ask me months ago to make Wyatt's christening gown.  I was excited to accept.  I found a gown for inspiration, a smocking plate, the fabric and a suitable pattern before the I was gripped with panic.   How long had it been since I smocked or sewn those little french seams on a baby's gown?
At least twenty years.

I shared with the owner of the fabric store I had taught children's sewing for a short time.  She told me not to worry, it was like riding a bicycle.   I left with my little bag in hand feeling like I could begin hyperventilating at any moment.

Once home I found all my notes from the classes I taught,  unpacked my package and began.  The smocking went well, unless you take into account I needed eleven pleating rows and I only had nine.  I crossed my fingers, looked up and told myself I could make it work.

There was prep work to finish before I had to worry about
actually putting the puzzle together.

There was cording to make.

Pleats to set.

The scariest part was going to be putting scissors to the fabric...
cutting out the pieces needed to construct the gown.

This is the point of no return.
A pattern piece drawn incorrectly, the slightest misplacement or a wrong snip would be disaster.
As I pinned the pattern to the fabric I began thinking about the importance I was placing on this gown.   Of course, I wanted to make something my daughter would love.  I had visions of this gown being passed down...becoming a heirloom...names of future generations embroidered in the hem.  I lost sight of the reason the gown was being made; and, it had nothing to do with my creating a perfectly made garment.

I love the liturgy of baptism.   It is when family and friends stand up and vow to be present in the spiritual life of the child.   It is a time when we are reminded of our own vows, and that we do not have to tackle those obligations alone.   With each challenge the congregation answers,  "I will with God's help".

The gown was important to me, and I was honored to make it.
It was going to be only the outer vestment for Wyatt's christening though.
   Once I remembered it wasn't about the gown or me,
the scissors snipped smoothly across the fabric.
(Okay, I did give up a little cheer when I saw the pleats perfectly
placed in the yoke.)



There were mistakes...things I was compelled to redo though no one
would know but me.  I often slipped back into the all about me mode,
but each time I solved a problem I once again realized I was only the hands.

The gown was finished in plenty of time.
The Christening took place this past Sunday.

And yes, I was reminded once again
I can with God's help.

Sunday Thoughts

I am a sucker for getting pulled into reading the comments after some random article on the internet.   I pull out the computer fully intent on signing onto Living Life and writing something brilliant, witty and/or entertaining (joking), but soon find myself scrolling through the current headlines.  An hour or so later my muse, my idea, has abandon me, as I have spent my time reading a wad of silly and ridiculous comments.  I know, I know this speaks volumes to my ability to waste time.  What can I say?

I am most often drawn in when the comments turn into rants against the belief in God.   I never really can figure out who they are talking to, as seldom do I find a comment defending God, Christianity or any faith.  In other words, no one is arguing against them.  Usually it is a string of those wanting to lash out at something, and the belief in God is always the perfect bull's eye for someone who is angry.  Though I would never want to respond to any of the comments, I find them interesting and worth studying.  Not because I agree, but because I am a believer in God.

I suppose you could say I am somewhat like Peter.   It was Peter, Jesus's most loyal, who denied knowing him when he was arrested.   I have never denied having a spiritual life, but I have never defended it either.  When I find myself in a conversation with someone who challenges my beliefs, I sit, listen, but seldom respond.  Though they run deep, I don't often write of my spiritual beliefs either.  I hope my actions are enough, but perhaps they are not.

I was four when an older child told me there was no Santa.    It was a few months before Christmas.  I was over at a neighbors house playing.   We began talking about the toys we were going to ask from Santa.   I vividly remember my friend standing over me telling me Santa wasn't coming because there was no Santa Claus.  I was heartbroken.  I burst out of her house and ran home sobbing.  Mother, having been alerted, was waiting for me at the door.  She held me until I calmed down a bit.   She rocked me in her lap as I told her my story.  She turned my face to hers and place her hand on my chest.  She then told me, "Santa Claus is right here.  He is all that is good about Christmas.  As long as you believe he will always be right there".  

I thought of this time in my life today during my morning prayers.  You know how you think of one thing and that leads you off onto another thought, and so on.  That is what I was doing this morning.  While giving thanks I began thinking how sad it is that so many live not knowing God (by any name).  Wondering why some find it so hard to believe in God.  I turned the question on myself and ask why I believe in something I cannot see.  Why do I believe in something that allows bad things to happen?  A lot of people spend a lot of time giving a lot of concrete reasons for not believing in "the myth" called God.   I then remembered that Saturday morning long ago, and the words my mother spoke.  Those things we cannot see, the things we are told are illogical, stupid, unproven, we hold in our hearts.  I could hear her saying, "God is in your heart.  He is right here.  There is no need to question his existence.  If you believe, he is with you."

Everyone has to have their own beliefs, for me, it is having faith in something greater than myself.  I open the newspaper and wonder, what is wrong with having faith?  It is much nicer having someone walking this path with me, than walking it alone.

From the Mouths of Children

My summer vacation has come to an end.  I am back at school, and trying to return to some semblance of a routine.  My mind and my heart are there; my energy level is trying catch up.

My break lasted longer than I anticipated.  I am afraid I underestimated my time away.   The last few days I've thought a lot of how to return to my blog.  What might my subject be.  It feels as if I am back at the beginning.

My book group is back together for another year of reading.  I've been spending time in the kitchen baking, canning and experimenting.  There have been home projects and family events.  I've created  these posts over and over in my head,  but as so often happens my returning post comes from an unexpected voice.

Yesterday I shared a favorite book with my children during story time.  

The book,  How Full is Your Bucket, (I may have written about this book before) is a book I use to begin a discussion about being kind to one another, sharing and being a good friend.   The perfect story for the beginning of the school year as we are meeting up with old friends and making new ones.  The basic premise is by treating others with kindness, both the giver and the recipient are filled with joy and good feelings 

(filling one's bucket).

Just as I finished the story and was preparing to ask for suggestions on how to fill our own "bucket" and that of our friends,  one of my boys raised his hand,

"Miss Bonnie, when you do nice, nice comes back to you".

We continued to chat about sharing and being nice to one another.  The children had fabulous ideas, but it was the "when you do nice, nice comes back to you" that continued to echo in my head throughout my day.

I mentioned earlier I am still working on building my day to day stamina...keeping up with preschoolers, wow!   We are all adjusting to a new school year, and becoming reacquainted.   At the end of the day all I really want to do is come home, take a shower, and settle in with a good book.

Yesterday afternoon was no different.  The afternoon was hot and the playground dusty.  By 2:30 I had wilted, but there were errands.   I had also volunteered to help serve dinner to families who are currently in transition and in need of a helping hand.  Leaving school and feeling a bit bedraggled all I really wanted was to have my day finished.  As much as I didn't want to do anything, I knew I needed to follow through with my commitments.  

By the time I reached the hosting Church, I had revived a bit, and was looking forward to being a small part of this worthwhile program.  These are families who are working to pull themselves out of an unfortunate situation.

As I entered the dining hall I was immediately greeted by a young girl of about eleven.

"Hi, my name is ....."

I greeted this happy girl, held out my hand and introduced myself.  

"It is nice to meet you."

She reached over, grasp my hand, but her big smile quickly faded  

as she released my hand and darted around the table toward me,

"I don't do handshakes...

I do hugs!

and threw her arms around my waist.

I hugged her back, and said,

"I'm always good with hugs".

You know my little guy was right this morning...

"When you do nice, nice comes back."

Yes, it does!

And, I slept well last night!

May 9, 2010

May 9, 2010,
 I signed on with the title "Living Life by the Seat of my Pants".  Earlier I often said, somewhat jokingly,  I would one day write a book titled "Flying by the Seat of My Pants" and thus thought this to be the perfect title for my blog.   After all, it is pretty much how I attack most things in my life.  Probably not what one would expect from a self-proclaimed perfectionist who walks an obsessive tightrope.  After a little research I discovered the phrase was taken by more than one, and to be honest...well let's just leave it with we had nothing in common.  So I chose to eliminate "flying" and insert "Living Life".  After a week or so I shortened it to simply "Living Life".

When I began, I'm not certain I had a true sense of direction,  but as I described my mode of operandi earlier, I jumped in headfirst hoping words would clear the path and take lead.   My first post was filled with, in my daughter's words, "every possible disclaimer", lest anyone think I believed myself to be a writer.

With a few posts under my belt, and after reading many wonderful and focused blogs, I found I didn't really fit into a particular buttonhole.  I've always been the rectangle trying to squeeze into the square. I have far more interests and likes than one person should try to fit into a life.  My musings were not coming together quite as I had imagined, some sounding forced, others scattered.  I often sat down to write of one thing and found words, sentences, running in a totally different direction.   To describe where I seemed to be headed I soon added the subtitle,
 "Random Ramblings of a Blessed Life".

Now here I am, a month into my fifth year, and I have no better sense of where I am going than I did the first time I hit publish, sending those beginning words into cyberspace.   Yes here I am.  What does tomorrow bring...life.

Life is an adventure, full of joy, disappointment, success, failure, confidence and fear.  There will always be cheerleaders and more who will discourage.   Life moves fast.  We can run with it or hide.   I choose to turn my face to the sky, embrace, look for the blessings and give thanks for each morning.

A great big thank you to all who sent best wishes upon the birth of my beautiful grandson.  He is truly an amazing addition... miracle... to living this random life of mine.

Time

Seconds turn into minutes,

minutes into hours,

hours into days,

and days into weeks...

Whenever I had a school assignment weighing on me, my Mother would patiently listen to

my complaints, seldom offering up a suggestion or giving an opinion.  Instead, after sitting with me while I whimpered and whined she would stand, place a hand on my shoulder and say, "well I suppose you need to get busy, 'time waits for no man' ".

Whenever I begin to fret over my ever growing to-do list, I often

  think of her gentle hand and words sending me off to stay on task.  

It is so easy to get tangled up as time rushes us forward.

   

Mother was right, the hands of time doesn't halt his march,

 nor slow his pace.

Sometimes, though, it is necessary to pause on the bridge 

between the land of need to dos and the island of should dos

and allow time to continue his passage without us.

I don't want to miss one amazing thing!

"For somewhere he has spoken 

about the seventh day in these words: 

'On the seventh day God rested from

 all his works.' " Hebrews 4:4.

Today

A day of ice...

rain...

sleet...

ice...

rain...

It is pretty much what was predicted.

I couldn't help it,  I was hoping

for 

SNOW.

Please?

I know my request may make those of you who have been closed in by endless snow storms a little crazy...sorry!

Are you weary of the cold?

Were you hoping "Phil" wouldn't see his shadow?

Are you wishing for spring?

Maybe you are dreaming of a summer's day by the water?

Or would you be happy to just rewind to autumn?

(I'm okay with spring and autumn, but seriously, 

let's keep summer away as long as possible)

Let's do a bit of

daydreaming...

No matter if you are wishing for

spring, summer, autumn or 

a winter's snow,

each will appear at it's due time.

Find the miracle in today.

Stay safe

stay warm!