Trusting as the moments fly,
Trusting as the days go by;
Trusting Him whate’er befall,
Trusting Jesus, that is all.

When I keep my eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of my faith, the way home is less anxious and less painful. It’s not entirely pain free, but it’s different, more wholesome, even the pain is rich with meaning and purpose.

Being vulnerable and open is a good way to be, but it hurts with intensity sometimes. However, an open heart can receive so much love and beauty. I couldn’t live without being able to have the beauty come inside of me. Despite the pain.

I read a quote about how we are more apt to write our trials in marble and our blessings in sand. I can relate to this.

I want to write a book about the growing-up-into-wisdom-trial I am coming out of. But I also want to throw away every reminder of it.

I am being amazed on an almost daily basis by the ways God shows up for me. When I live with my eyes WIDE open (“I once was blind but now I see”) I see it all PLUS some, and my imagination soars as I contemplate the things I STILL can’t see (yet), but God is doing it. Sort of like the middle of deep woods in the winter, the enchanting beauty there in that secret place that no human will see because it’s too hard to get to it, and yet……..it is there. It is.

None of us are alone in our struggles and hardships. We have each other to get through them.

Although I have felt worthless at times, I do know who I am; a beautiful soul. A lover of people. A faithful wife and a good mama. A friend. I’ve worked hard at living well in these areas. Not to feel good about myself; but because of the joy it brings me to live my life like this. Enjoying.

Overthinking is a good way to become soul-weary.

Living childlike (yet wise) is precious, carefree, and sweet.

I am thankful for my husband, my children, and the children who are about to marry into our family.

I am thankful for the warmth of these spring days. The warmth of this day, and that my cold is almost gone and I have more energy.

I am thankful for the knowledge I can find online at the click of a few buttons. Knowledge is power.

I am thankful for my good health and the peace and contentment within me at this moment.

I am thankful to be blogging.

I love to write here and I have missed it. I haven’t been “myself” (I’ve been becoming more of myself) in several years now, (a stepping away from blogging as I work on other things) but I am starting to gain the energy and desire to do the things I love to do (again…..) so here I am. I love you all, my dear blog friends. So gentle and kind. Let us have fun. Let us enjoy life.

“Blessed are we who shout: yes! do it! Turn things right side up again!”

you are loved.

what a morning!

It began with coffee and journalling in bed with big Bags.

I had in mind that I would relax for a while like a queen. But then, Caleb came in the room and asked me to make a quiche. And the way he asked me was like this:

“You don’t want to make a quiche, do you?”

It’s the only way a teenage boy knows how to ask and I was charmed so I said “Yes!”

I would be delighted.

I was texting with Grace and told her I had made a quiche for Caleb. Being a reader and a writer she immediately replied “I want to write a story called A Quiche for Caleb” and I said, “I already did, with flour and eggs.”

I’m forever exhaling prayers and stories. They come right out of my heart, and out of my fingers. They come out whilst I am in the woods, on walks, in the house, in the car, but most of all, in the kitchen.

*****

The crust is an easy oil crust; 2 1/4 cups of flour, 1 teaspoon salt, 1/2 cup oil, and 6 tablespoons of milk. I put the ingredients directly in the pan (9 by 13) and mix them with a fork. Then I pat the crust along the bottom and up the sides with my fingers (while listening to music).

For the filling I tend to use leftover bits from the fridge. Today I used up a dozen eggs (the hens lay a doz a day), a bread butt (they don’t get eaten), leftover honey baked chicken from last night’s dinner, basil (leftover from making eggplant parm last week), shredded cheddar cheese, onion powder, pepper, about 1 1/2 cups milk, and 1/4 cup mayonnaise. I whisked them all together (while talking with David, who was making himself a Creative Coffee using an ice cream cone and other things) and poured the egg mixture into the unbaked crust.

I left it in a 375 degree oven until done. Then, a beautiful rectangle was cut neatly and served on a yellow fiesta saucer to Caleb, the Wonderful.

(the kids have homeschool on Thursdays and Fridays). & I love it.

Then things got even more exciting for Yours Truly.

*****

I left the house with a piece of quiche in my hand (yum) and went on a walk. It was cool outside so I wore jeans and a sweatshirt and off I went, listening to a podcast. I saw nothing of note until I turned around and came home. Then, next to the neighbor’s chainlink fence on the ground something caught my eye. I didn’t have anyone with me so I had to come home and draw a picture of myself in this moment of discovery:

Someone left their tail behind!

I reached my hand through the fence and picked it up. So fluffy, so soft that Seth asked me later if I had washed it.

My heart was filled with serendipity. What a beautiful gift from a very unfortunate baby bunny, whom I am sure is missing it rather badly. However, I accepted gratefully for what it was to me, a good luck charm. If a rabbit’s foot is lucky, a tail must be even more so! It was warm in my hand all the way home. It’s sitting right next to me as I type, along with an orange cat.

PS, If you would like the drawing, email me your address at goodtbehome76@gmail.com

Happy Fri-yay friends!

you.are.loved.

THANK YOU FOR VISITING

Hello dear friends,

I saw on the news this morning that the shooter in the Boulder grocery store killed ten people. I am 45 years old now, I have grown children, one of whom moved out into his own place this weekend, another of whom is working as a student teacher and going to college in another state. I have close family and friends everywhere. I have seen so much, after years of deep thinking I know more, I have learned and processed new and important things, and so maybe these are some of the reasons why it hit me harder this time, learning of another mass shooting.

Those people were just like you and me, doing what we always do, running errands and getting groceries, but they……. were shot at, traumatized, killed. It doesn’t make any sense to me, how a beautiful spring day can turn so ugly. And yet, if you read the stories you learn that the victims came together in crisis to help each other the best they could. You learn that a police officer sacrificed his life.

Is there nowhere safe anymore? Was there ever any place safe?

When confronted by the confusion of such unanswerable questions, I find myself stripped bare of everything but what I love the most; my people (friends and family), spirituality, nature, and home (my purpose).

So, because I was able, I told my people I loved them, I went outside for a long walk, and I went in the kitchen and made a cake. Cakes are typically for celebrations but today was a day for showing love.

I gathered eggs for the cake; produced for us daily by a flock of feathered hen-friends. I gave one to the dog (who knows that he has to drop it, not on the soft lawn, but on the driveway, so it will crack open and he can eat it) and then put the rest in the house before going for a walk.

I stopped and rested by the stream and thought about the beaver. I wished I could see him. How very industrious he is, chewing down each and every tree that he is able to. This stick was standing up, leaning against a large tree (large trees are safe from beavers), it’s bark entirely removed by the teeth of the beaver who ate it like corn from a cob. (I decided I’m bringing back the handkerchief.)

Then, my feet led me to a spot in the field where some scat lay. I noticed that it appeared to be entirely fur. As I stood there looking down at it, I saw something within the fur that looked otherwise. So I took a stick, knelt down, and started poking around.

Soon I had the fur-poo pulled apart, and the contents that I had discovered, in my pocket.

I headed to the stream to wash my hands over and over in the ice-cold water.

The forest on early spring days is so………gray.

As is the grass.

And what’s this I see so far from home? A spoon.

A spoon from my own kitchen! To have children is to be constantly surprised one way or the other.

Thus, I went home with a spoon in one pocket, a hanky in another, and poo-bits in the third.

But before I got there, I found a green bottle and hung it in a tree.

Every walk I go on is fascinating. And I realized something, although I have a second home in Georgia, I feel like my best self and most inspired self in my dear New England.

I emptied my pocket onto a piece of brown paper bag. Furry teeth and bones. Someone needs to tell that animal that teeth are indigestible.

From that to baking. I was able to use up six eggs on my cake. By the time it had cooled Rich was in the house, the boys were home from school, and Sarah and Brittnee were home from the apartment (where they hung out today, to wait for a couch to be delivered). Therefore, I had an audience watching me frost the cake. “What are you going to write on it, Mom?” they cried.

“Just watch and see,” I said.

love-cake,
with all their names