Westwoods

 'The three little girls'. That's what we were called in our family of eleven. Because we were at the end of the line, the youngest, and often dubbed 'spoiled rotten' too. Families are endearing in this way, I suppose.  'The three little girls' never minded the title and found endless amounts of diversion and entertainment of our own and without the help of the older six. One being the Main Creek that ran through the south end of the woods and farmland of our home in Tony, Wisconsin. Main Creek was a small tributary on the Flambeau River System. The water fluctuation, from spring time thaws, made it a raging river most years, but by end of summer we could often find a way to play a little game we invented. We didn't give this game a name but it involved trying to cross the creek and not getting our feet wet by usage of stepping stones. It was a game we all knew how to play without rules or direction; the creek gave its own rules as you will see.   Even n...

  I drove to Sandpoint in the rain today and thanked God for the unlikely, good weather for Dec the 8th. I'll take the rain and warmer temperatures any day over the beauty snow gives us in most Decembers.  I love a longer drive on a Monday. It gives me a chance to talk out loud to God about a few pressing matters, without the eyes of anyone thinking I am drunk... like Hannah in the Bible was thought of when she cried out all her anguishes to the Lord and was caught at it. Anyway...today I was asking Jesus for peace and joy to go along with my walk of obedience in the kingdom of heaven. Peace for conformation that I am hearing correctly from the Lord and not making any of this 'walk' up, and joy for more strength. Because honestly, a girl gets tired when day after day feels like pushing through without the best sight. I have the faith and trust in God, but a little kick of energy that comes when God also provides peace and joy, well, that is just what I felt I needed. So, I ...

  That's not a very nice title. Or subject either. But you know...sometimes we need to look at the things that aren't super comfy and take ownership of our part in them. So here goes. Me addressing this part of relationships that no one wants to talk about. I will use myself for an example. Since God slapped me upside the head with the truth that ending slander and meanness and unkind speech starts with me; I suppose it is only fitting that I become aware of barbs and prickles. And I'm not talking about the ones that I receive and the judgement of the ones giving them. I'm talking about becoming aware of my own speech and my heart revealing what it holds by the barbs and prickles that come out and land in places I never intended when I opened my mouth. And don't you go acting like you don't know of which I speak. We all do this. We all reveal what we hold in our hearts by the words we use and comments we make. I'm sure you've heard the phrase, 'hurt ...

  Bruce and I made a quick trip to Germany to see Toria. We carried a backpack each and went minimally, which is great fun for the both of us, until we've been up walking and catching flights for 24 hours. Then, feet begin to hurt and spirits are weak.  We arrived in Germany pretty early in the day and caught a shuttle bus to the train station where Toria had arranged to meet us. Two matronly German ladies engaged Bruce in animated chatter about travel and cultures and age. They thought he was charming as he flattered them with guessing their ages younger than what was visible to the eye. I was too tired to care. We spent several hours walking to a bountiful market and city center and a part of Frankfurt not mentioned in travel guides where we found great food and refreshing drinks.  The market reminded me a lot of Pikes Market in Seattle, tho instead of fish flying through the air, there were sausages, hams, and other cuts of meat hanging from the ceiling and overflowing...

  Praying can often be more time waiting at doorways than entering in to answers. Going through a doorway may feel like an answer, a new arrival to less questions...clarification and rest. But what about the idea of watching and waiting and trusting outside the door in the hallway?  There are many things we learn about God when we are forced to wait, to watch for what He will do, and to trust what He brings us while we do that. Watching and waiting are interchangeable actions that rely on putting our hope in God. Your faith grows and trust in Almighty God is rooted as you practice both.

  Jasmine shares her heart with me from time to time. She's been married about the same amount of time as me and appreciates my honesty about the ups and downs of the aforementioned constitution.  Most people know that I have struggled to survive in my relationships, not only to survive, but also to thrive. I have "metamorphosised" one could say. Still...I am not a butterfly, tho my wings are finally unfolding. I read in my Bible this morning about Jesus' teaching on 'who is my neighbor?' Put another way... 'Who should I care about?' Jesus answer... paraphrased of course...(The one who comes to where you are. The one who sees you wounded and hurt and left alone. The one who has compassion and is moved to doing practical things like feeding and putting on salve, and giving drink. The one who cleans the wound and binds it up. The one who prays for the work done.) If you do all this you are being aware of who and what your response is to loving God and lo...

I was hearing what you were asking. And I know that battle line. Because I've been there too. I know what its like to pray and muscle that thing to the ground...it will not triumph over me...so I pray. God will win. I think God shows He loves us when He gives us these impossible assignments that requires all of our hearts wrestling. Sadly, we don't often recognize it as His love and care and provision for how we can best serve Him in His kingdom. Often it just seems lonely and misunderstood.  We want to explain our position to the naysayers and the ones who think they know a thing or two about our situation, the one they have never walked themselves.  We are tempted to MAKE them understand. We want encouragement and backing from humans. Somehow, that's just easier...to reach out to the humans in our lives.  Instead we could choose to lean in to the pain and lonely road that we are given to walk, to view it as a gift, and to not isolate ourselves into bitterness and anxiet...

    I will sing of the goodness of God! How is it possible for us to hold extreme sorrow and extreme joy in the same cup? My cup runneth over with both. Last week our first grandbaby was born. And my friend had another grandbaby go to Jesus...another angel baby...my friend's daughter lost another baby. A whole family mourns. Life. Hope. Stunned. Gone. It's so hard to see God's goodness in this place. I witnessed the birth of our granddaughter and prayed that Jesus would give me some of the pain her mama was experiencing.  Overwhelmed by the goodness of God. A miracle. Our joy isn't negated by the sorrow of the other. Yet, they both run together in the same stream. How? Why? We are told to rejoice with those who rejoice and weep with those that weep. I didn't know it would happen together.  And this is our earthly life. There are things that happen to us that can look like losses. Or great big fails. Or ongoing circumstances that seem to never change or heal or impro...

  I stare at the blank page. So much to say. So much to process. So much to pray about. So much to face and own and change. This morning I woke up before six as I most often do. Its not because I am extra virtuous. My body awakens and rebels at staying still in bed for even another minute. I quietly padded out to the kitchen, drank a glass of water in the dark, fished around in the drawer for a lighter and lit...or lighted... which one is it??? my two autumnal candles. Next I made a old fashioned pot of coffee...the regular, boring way, while I mused on the testimony of Erika Kirk, which she gave to the nation last night. She mentioned her battle cry. I loved that. Mine is a song that is on repeat in my head for the past solid year.  I will sing of the goodness of God...Erika also mentioned that fact in a whisper while tears choked her voice. "God is so good!" And He is. Meanwhile the season of cozy is here in the pumpkin scones and vanilla candles. Also are the tragedies our...

I keep being asked when I am going to write my book. It's my own fault...I blabbered about it so many times through out the years.  Years. Yes, it has been years. I am approaching 50 rapidly. And still have not written this book. I think because I have too many ideas and the main passion in my head to write about, which is family and home and marriage and relationships, well, it's just been too intense and special. And I want to protect and respect the people in my life and their journey. So to write openly and honestly and passionately about those things sometimes is just too too much. Too much exposure. Too much risk. Too much rawness and real. I am finding as I grow in age and hopefully in wisdom, that most people are not willing to know or be known. People in general find going deep and being personal a lot like getting a tooth pulled. Nobody wants to admit pain or trials or even pure joy and blessings.  It seems to be a kind of cover. And a little too much bluffing and pr...

  Summer is flying by so fast. Not only is summer speedy, it is also abundant and overflowing with garden produce, heat, and people parties.  I notice life better and feel more at peace when I can process things more fully. That is the one gripe I have with summer. It is so extremely full and life giving that I almost miss it.  Learning to 'chill' and be 'intentional' in a fast paced life, is something I find to be very difficult, even impossible. Thankfully, the concept of chilling and being intentional are just words and concepts. While I appreciate both, I am much too practical to get hung up on them. So. My summer is flying and I am doing my best to relax and enjoy each of the  moments however they arrive. I'm doing pretty well at it too, if I do say so myself. But I have made mistakes. Like not hearing correctly the full plan to when I agreed to leave to go pick huckleberries with friends. I have very kind and gracious friends though, and all was forgiven. Here...

Be joyful in hope. Be patient in affliction. Be faithful in prayer. Romans 12:12 NIV We all are waiting on something. Waiting for an event to arrive. Waiting to see if it will turn out and if we planned it well. Waiting to figure what will be at the store when we go to get the whole list. Waiting to leave on a trip. Waiting till every job is completed before we go. Waiting for everyone to pile into the vehicle of travel, maybe waiting for the last one to brush their teeth so we can go. Waiting to pay the bills; for the money to come in to pay the bills. Waiting for something to  sell so we can pay the aforementioned bills.  Waiting for the garden to grow, the flowers to bloom, the green beans to bear strings of beans in place of blossoms.    We wait for the grass to grow green and rain to come again. We wait for the wind to die down and the smoke to go away. (Sometimes the danger of fire is over but you still smell smoke) Metaphorically.  We wait for repent...

  Our summer has already been so full. I write in my journal every day and think I am going to make it here to the blog, but end up pulling weeds in the garden or mowing the lawn instead. This first photo is our Laife and Madi and little baby boy due in December. We took Madi out for her birthday in May for breakfast in Bonners Ferry. The gardens are alive and well. They are a balm to the soul as we learn how to be empty nesters.  We bought a boat and are having long and lazy weekends out on the water. So far we've been to Diamond Lake for two nights, Lake Roosevelt for a night, and this coming weekend we're planning to go to Lake Pend Orielle in Idaho.   Shaunti and I picked 30 pounds of strawberries in the hot sun. I found these huckleberries on our land. Well, almost on our land...it might have been on the neighboring property too. These two found out they are having a girl. She is due to arrive in Oct. The lovely Toria. She left us on the 11th of June. Her plans are t...

  How can I keep from singing... If only it was that easy. But walking through a spring time orchard does help one to come to this... The thing is, celebration and beauty for the good things in life are at the same time going to bring pain and suffering and reminders of grief. This is life. The spring blossoms are beautiful and amazing, a breath from heaven...softness and comfort and fragrant peace...answers to prayers...safety...refuge... This is life too. Loss and grief and brokenness.  Relationships break and we can't seem to forgive and move on. Our babies go to heaven before they arrive on earth. Some of us don't even get the hope of a child. We are barren. Left alone, dry, and withered. We feel forgotten.  It comes to me in a still small voice that we all experience and suffer, loss and grief. We all get to choose..."Though none go with me, still I will follow". This is best committed and promised to God when we are most alone and stripped of everything we ever ...

  My good friend, Emily, over at  mrs.emilymiller.substack.com  challenged me to use the opportunity without a phone as a self-improvement thing...see what a phone fast does for you and give report of that to us. I am sad to report that I'm still not sure if there was any self-improvement and what it was, or if I benefited from this experience. I suppose the most shocking thing in all of it was the helpless and bereft feeling I had the whole ten days. That feeling began the moment I realized what I had done. How it happened: I was returning a rental car in Baltimore at 4:00 a.m. I had conquered the strange unpredictable PA roads for three days, navigated the toll system, figured out where to fuel up the car and leave it in the parking garage. Feeling quite successful for four in the morning...we, my daughter and I, grabbed our few bags, locked the car, and walked toward the deposit box for the key and the shuttle waiting for us to take us over to the airport for our six o...

I was born in 1976. Some of my siblings last night, on the family page, went wild with history that was going on at their time of birth. It was interesting. I googled my own but got distracted with remembering the 80's and 90's. The parts of living in a little girls mind without the history lesson, that is... Sunday mornings. Tight braids and hair balls. Unbearably tight braids that made my eyes water. I'd go to the mirror to make sure my eyes weren't squinting. Thick cotton socks stuffed inside black shiny buckle shoes. The buckles were  often stretched out on the shoes, so that they buckled loosely at best. And the hair balls also had lost their elasticity. The Dress...double knit polyester, green with big purple flowers. Hot and scratchy. Jelly shoes and moon boots. If you know, you know. Tights that hung low in the crotch. No such thing as leggings. Big glasses. Didn't care. Could finally see actual blades of grass and leaves on trees. Barefoot, mowing lawn. Gre...

  This is a photo I took on our daily walks, of a beautifully flowering camellia tree over in Gig Harbor last week. Now that I've written that sentence three times and yes, I meant the adverbs and adjectives to be placed where I did, I will leave it there. If you are a grammar and word police, do your thing. Enjoy. On our trip home last weekend, it rained torrentially all day, the whole route was in constant downpour with only the bridges and overpasses allowing for a half second of quiet. I tried reading aloud as we wanted to finish our book, but my voice went hoarse from straining. The rain noise won and I put the book away. And I thought about storms and solid downpours in life in relationships. In comparing storms and sunshine to relationships, one could easily get very off track. Maybe. But I find in my life with the tendencies I have toward sheltering, protecting, and nurturing quietness; it really kind of fits. The parallels are endless for me. Very probably, we marry our op...

 We leave tomorrow and I'm not sad about that. There's no place like home. At home there is a washer and dryer and a real bed and shower. And my sweet little morning chair.  It's been fun. It was dreamy too in its way. We played a game one evening, had a picnic on a sunny afternoon, took lots of walks, ate out at a very authentic Italian restaurant...on and on. Many moments of relaxation and reflection. I've pondered more than usual about friendship and sisterhood. About why a few friends and siblings thrive on explaining and sharing themselves and why some of us are too "something" to explain and share and would rather quietly let people say and think what they will about you and have peace with that.  I thought and prayed a little more often for church and country. Politics are in both and I think there is a lot to tell Jesus about both.  I have thoughts about communities, how they should run and the responsibilities one must call their own, which I don'...

  We are getting in each others space just a little. Maybe like the pair of geese I watched this morning bicker and carry on over who knows what. Those two follow each other around all day long, up the bank of the harbor and all around the yard above, close to the sidewalk that leads into town. Only occasionally do they make a raucous. It looked like your typical marriage spat. She very calmly swam behind her squawking partner as he protested loudly to something she was doing. He kept clacking his beak together and shaking his head, clearly unhappy with whatever was distracting her. Maybe they were looking for food and she liked something that he thought was priced too high. Anyway, she remained unruffled and swam behind him, I think grinning and chuckling to herself that she got him to squawk. Like when Bruce and I shop downtown in touristy towns. The more intrigued I am with the candles and dishes and tea towels, the deeper his scowl creases increase. I know it worries him but I ...

  We are parked next to the Blue Gollywobbler. She is the boat you see out the window. This morning in my half awakened state as I sipped down my coffee; I watched a blue heron lead her daily yoga class. I was her only human audience I suppose, but I promise I'm not making this up. Truly, she was magnificent as she lifted her beak toward the skies and held it for the count of five. Then fluffing her wings for three repetitions, she alighted and glided 20 feet into the water. Now her beard became visible, did you know blue herons have beards? Perhaps she was a guy, blue heron. One should do their research. I will, but for now I will continue the yoga class given by said heron.  The next step of relaxation was to thrust her face straight down into the water and hold for the count of three. That done, now fly. Up three feet out of the water onto blue and white boat to the right. Fly to the top, O Thou Great, Heron. Here she commenced her wing fluffs, up down, up down, side step l...