Thanksgiving, the most blessed of holidays.

The family gathered. Mom prepared a huge meal successfully bringing all hot dishes to the at table in sync.

In the kitchen, she was in her element. We were dressed up in church clothes and the table in lace. There was an elaborate centerpiece with perhaps a deer, sparkly fake snow and candles hand made each year by my father’s secretary. We were all happily looking forward to Mom's lime jello "salad" with dream whip, pineapple, nuts and cream cheese, and marshmallows in it, which was really a dessert.

The hot home made rolls melted the butter. Add jelly from a pretty little bowl. Mound up the mashed potatoes with more butter and skip the gravy. It was the side dishes that made the turkey taste good.

Thanksgiving foods with sugar:

sweet potatoes
jello salad
pie
ice cream
rolls with jelly
cranberry sauce
sweet drinks
pumkin
apple

High fat list:

gravy
butter in the mashed potatoes
French fried onions on the green bean casserole
butter on the rolls
pie
ice cream & whipped cream
salad dressing
butter in the vegetables
corn souffle
butter on the sweet potatoes
stuffing

Thanksgiving foods that are LOW in sugar or fat:

hmmmm, thinking, um, uhhhhhh, let’s see....Can’t think of any right off hand. Ok maybe the relish tray if you skip the dip.

We 3 girls set the table correctly as we had learned in Girl Scouts. My father, ever the gentleman, pulled the chair out for us.

He would carve turkey at the table with a monogramed sterling silver knife and fork which matched ours. Who wants the drumstick? Would you like dark or light meat? Dark please. Say when.

One of us would sing-song grace:

God is great, and He is good,
and we thank Him for this food.

So we made good memories. We put our napkins in our laps, tried not to talk with food in our mouth, and passed to the left and with pleases and thank you's.

Daddy and my brother would watch football. We girls took turns using the dish master, a hose with a brush that sprayed water and held soap in it. When you wanted soap you pushed the button. This was a modern invention during the days before dishwashers.

I cannot remember what happened after the feast and clean up.

first UN free write

title: Nov. 17, 2008, Sunday evening


I copied the hymn during the offering because of the verse about art not being only for decorating Christian brochures. I let myself be trapped by that idea for years.

God, All Nature Sings Thy Glory (verses 1 and 2)

God, all nature sings thy glory, and thy works proclaim thy might;
ordered vastness in the heavens, ordered course of day and night;
beauty in the changing seasons, beauty in the storming sea;
all the changing moods of nature praise the changeless Trinity,

Clearer still we see thy hand in man who thou hast made for thee;
ruler of creation's glory, image of thy majesty.
Music, art, the fruitful garden, all the labor of his days,
are the calling of his Maker, to the harvest feast of praise.

Written by David Clowney in 1960
sung to the tune of "Ode to Joy" by Ludwig Van Beethoven, 1824

It's not such great poetry, but I appreciated the affirmation that God made me an artist on purpose and I am now using this gift from Him.

A Trial

To declutter is a good thing. Now then I have clutter in my Mac. Mac got a boo boo & went off to the Hospital. When he returned what was lost was only a couple months worth of pictures and freewrites. This time I had my external hard drive. Well, that's hugely better than losing a whole year's worth of photos like last time.

That's an interesting place, the Apple store. There are as many geniuses as customers. I ignored all the cool merchandise and went straight to the back. My genius wasn't one and I wouldn't have hung one of those tags around his neck just yet. But he tried and I appreciate their high customer service standards.

So, the "free write" clutter in my computer.

There is a vague notion that someday I will glean something worth publishing, maybe someone will be encouraged by it.

But if the writer is bogged down and isolated, it isn't going to happen.

All those files become heavy and worrisome in the mind. I don't want to go back there and read all that stuff. It's overwhelming.

Discouragement grows.

In the past writing has made you clarify things for yourself, and some of your writing people have enjoyed and been blessed by or at least your words were curious to a friend who enjoys poking around in another person's thoughts.

But freewrite stagnating in the laptop? Hmmm, not good.

So, try this instead: free write directly into your blog for one month. Yes, you will edit it, making it no longer FREE. If you want people to read your words, try it.

Still There

So - the seas still roar.

The violent reds are still out there backed by wet greens.
Rain still blackens the tree trunks, turning up the color volume.
I am blessed with a bright maple right outside my back door.

So I told my other conservative friend: if our side loses, and it did, the fall colors will still make impact every year and the sand the the waves are not going away.

I went out walking by the waves in hiking boots with an umbrella which I did not use. There was a wind advisory on the bridge. The seas all the way up to the sea walls. I had to wait for the wave to ebb and hurry over to the narrowed beach. My boots got wet over the ankles once or twice.

It is powerful to be by the water when it is calm. How much more so when it is actually frightening. The wind came from behind me so the back left side got wet. Along with crushing waves was light but pelting rain on my hood. I saw one set of dog prints.

The seas were Davy's grey, darkening toward the horizon, and the sky almost the same hue and value with more blue. The breaking waves had some olive yellow in them.

I tried to use the umbrella after turning into the wind, but it was not worth the effort. How did the sailors in old ships hold the sails? I mean I only had an umbrella! Thus the mind of men who engineered ships and sails, created by the mind of God.

I studied the colors for a sketch from memory later in the studio. I should have studied more, I didn't remember what went into the middle foreground where the waves were all churned up.

We sang the Navy hymn in church last week "for those imperiled on the sea". But there were different words.

I would not want to be out there in a storm.

The ships out on the horizon, normally stretched out lengthwise, were facing land. Are they anchored, turned by the wind or are they controlled by people?

I am glad for the fact that we have elected a man with African roots for President.
I am not glad he is liberal.
We shall see how he leads.

My Girl

On Sunday I had to kill my dog, no, you must not say it so harshly. Put her to sleep, euthanize, put her down. It was so very hard. The pain is deep in my chest. It erupts regularly in tears. Poor animal just does what God designed it to do, and because it bites to protect itself when it is afraid, it cannot abide with humans any longer.
Such a companion. Such a gift God made, dogs. There will be no one to wag her tail when I come home from The Great Northwest. I wish it did not have to be. Now then, if I let her live out her years, she might get sick and be in pain and not be able to tell me she is suffering. So she went out quickly and painlessly, I think. But God, it was so hard. It just feels so wrong, because I loved her like a family member and you don't kill family members, do you? Of course not. We all understand: she cannot be trusted around children (or anyone without monitoring her) and now there are 3 grandbabies. So the decision.
I see a squirrel outside and I think of her.
I hear the neighbor's dog bark and I remember.
I see a dark blanket out of the corner of my eye and I think it is she.
I drew a picture of her from memory because I could remember every curve of her body from stroking her so many times.
I wanted the vet to do me next.
I told her not to bite anyone in doggie heaven.
It makes me never want to get another dog.
Guilty of caring too much about a stupid animal.
I will get another dog but I will be very sure it is not reactive, but calm and sociable.
Right now I think I wouldn't mind if I just died.

Layla

Born 8.18.08, now 6 days old. seven pounds, 3.7 ounces. 20 inches.
Not much crying but lots of sleeping. The second night, when the mom was exhausted, the friends visited all day and kept her up, the night nurses didn't say much, and she cried because try as she might, the baby did not know how to latch on. I hugged her and tried not to give her too many words...let her cry. She is frustrated watching her baby struggle and I am frustrated watching my baby struggle. I and all the nurses and other mothers told her already it will get better. But it is dark and it is so frightening.

After that she began to be able to nurse. The lactation nurse came in like an angel just as she was getting it. Many positive words and hands on teaching of positions to try and so on.

At home more visitors. Rest. Photos. Letting her lie on my chest while we sleep.

It is Sunday and I did not make it to church. I read to her from the Bible and sang her some songs about God. She rolled her eyes.

How To Ride a Train

This summer I took Amtrak to my class in Maine. From there I went to North Dakota to visit my father and sister. My father grew up in ND, so now that he is 96, has dementia and my mom is dead, we take him up to ND every summer where he is peaceful and feels at home.

Amtrak DO'S

Do buy all your tickets ahead of time
Do check the discounts, such as the 30 day rail pass.
Do check your itinerary and tickets so that no legs of your journey are omitted.
Do travel light.
Do check your large bags.
Do take layers or blankets or both to stay warm, especially at night. Consider bringing your own pillow and eye shades.
Do visit the lounge car, especially if there is a National Park Service person on board giving details about things you see rolling by.
Do converse with people you meet.
Do take your time in the bathroom and be careful...it takes practice and patience to stay clean on the train.
Do try their Green Mountain coffee unless you only like the dark roast kind.
Do have wheels on your luggage.
Do paint in the lounge car if you paint.
Do remember your camera.
Do bring your toothbrush on board.
Do help someone with luggage.
Do use your laptop if you are going up and down the East Coast. They have internet en route and plugs by each seat.
Do walk around and check out the whole train.
Do try to schedule overnights where you can see your friends or relatives.
Do get some work done while you are NOT DRIVING.
Do expect more room than on an airplane.
Do expect to be rocked constantly.
Do acquaint yourself with all the different stations. They are not as clearly marked as airports.
Do bring your paper tickets. An itinerary is not enough to ride.
Do read the details at Amtrak.com
If you have the money, try a sleeper car.


Amtrak's DONT'S

Don't count on being on time.
Don't be afraid of the others on the train.
Don't plan on changing your tickets at just any old station: you can only change them if there is an agent there.
Don't take stuff to read if you won't read it.
Don't stress; The conductors, the attendants and other riders will answer your questions.
Don't worry; someone will help you with your luggage if you need it.
Don't travel in peak season if you have the choice unless you like full trains.
Don't count on internet on board unless you are going up and down the East Coast. Maybe later.
Don't count on a plug to fire up your laptop or cell phone.
Don't take night trains in coach cars if you want a good night's sleep.

Self Talk about Settling In

There are an infinite number of ways to arrange furniture in your place, no matter how little stuff you think you have. Such options provide an infinite number of distractions for your mind-- good options, too, for which you can thank God. And you must take yourself by the hand and lead yourself away from going over each and every option perfectly, dragging the decision out.....hoping for the perfect arrangement of your things... You have spent enough time doing that in your life. Put it somewhere and USE it, function, work, eat, sleep, go out, come back in, let the house serve you, not the other way around.

Be ruthless with the paper. Shred it or make a box for a bonfire on your son's deck with his new fire pit.

Good. All good. Good problems to have. A house. Now go paint, Pollock!

sweetness

Grandbaby 2, born April 5, 2008, a girl, to my second child, a son and his dear wife.

CORE

CORE

OK, yesterday I was thinking about Rick and the body of Christ and what came to my mind was that if I had to put him as a specific body part, I’d say core.

As children, we were told "lift with your legs." In tennis I learned "use my legs." As an adult I learned that using your legs and proper posture prevents back injuries.

I learned the reverse when my daughter and I carried Margaret’s sewing machine cabinet out of her house, with the old sewing machine in it. She is on the down end and I am at the top of the 2 steps leaning forward and trying to step down....there is no place to bend my knees to center myself under the weight, but I don't think about that because we are already moving. BOING. there goes that sprongy electric shock feeling in the lower back. Uh oh.. Ow ow ow. I try to continue but..... I can’t remember..... did Margaret's daughter carry it the rest of the way? The next few days I was immobile, getting in and out of bed to inch my way into the bathroom ever so slowly and with every attempt to roll over in bed, a reminder from the back NO! Not like that! Pain, that is.

So hopefully I learned. Experience is a better teacher than words.

But CORE. That word became popular when Pilates became the new exercise craze. My daughter-in-law liked her Pilates class. I tried it once or twice and liked it OK, though I preferred the dancing around aerobic tapes. Anyway the teacher kept talking about the core. As in: strengthen this first and foremost. OK so the legs are not your center physically, your abs are. hmmmm

Now then, Rick. No flashy charismatic gifts. Not a great speaker, not a GQ type, not a life of the party, not a brilliant mind. He thought he didn’t have any significant gifts, that he wasn’t really good - better than those around him - in any one thing. He felt less important because he lacked expertise in one area where he could shine above others. Don't most of us want to excel at something?

I would say to him, you have the gift of personal evangelism. You have a gift a lot of Christians would like to have; you present the gospel to people and they come to faith. I don’t know how he felt about my words, but It did NOT make him go: "yeah, you’re right, dear wife, now I feel on top of the world, Praise the Lord."

He was not a hand with intricate ability, nor an eye, to see what other people didn't see. He wasn’t a brain to think up stuff. But he was strong, both physically and mentally, tenacious and faithful to God.

So I see him as a core, or part of Christ's core perhaps a fiber in the big abdomen muscle, or a cell in the fiber.... No one focuses the core when they greet a person. Maybe they felt the heaviness of the approaching footsteps. They look at the eyes, the face, maybe glance at the whole body. They hear the voice and smell breath or soap or perfume. They feel a handshake or a hug, or kiss the cheeks. But they don’t NOTICE the core.

Yet what if it weren’t there? There would be no person. No core, no body.

Rick was solid, plodding, steady. "Faithful," I said and that is the word that best describes him. It is on his grave marker. Faithful to the Lord Jesus Christ.

His place in the body of Christ was not highly visible, but it is absolutely a must have. God could see this when he gave gifts to the body of Christ, He chose to put Rick and his ilk in as core. He did not want the body to fall apart. You don't build a human from the skin in.

Now when I go to X-biking class and we are in sustain mode, I will work my handlebars to the right and left while trying to keep my core centered. I can line up the center of the bike and I try to keep my eyes precisely above that while pushing the bars to one side. It is not easy as you want to lean with your head and body in the direction your hands go. It requires a lot of my core when I do this. I feel it later in the day.

Someone had to hang on to the essence of Christ when others around him were running off to other gospels, New Age, Prosperity, etc. He kept reading and studying the Bible, kept telling people about Christ and kept seeing results.

It's curious to me that I remember one of the strongest images in my mind immediately after Rick died was that there had been an explosion and there was a giant hole from my chest down to my legs. it was as if I could have looked down at myself and there was no middle, just a hole you could see right through, empty, air. Nothing. That's where a core is, right in the center.

I could also see him as feet. How beautiful are the feet of the one who brings good news. Maybe a later post.

to Wait

It is ironic. I am the only one of the 5 of us who got any sleep last night and I am the one at home caring for the dogs, and I could rest if I needed to, which I don't.
The daughter-in-love is in labor, her waters broke this morning at 1:30. My son called to tell me and I tossed and turned for a while but did go back to sleep. Her parents got into their car and drove all night. So none of them have slept, but since I am the designated dog-sitter, I came back home from the hospital when I saw that she was dilating slowly. I thought: if I stay and wait, just about the time things start crackin', I'll have to go home to care for the dogs. I want to go and force those in attendance to rest, but I know they won't. And I want to massage my DIL's back and make her sleep but I don't know if she can sleep. Mostly I can only commit her to God.
I know they are all exhausted and I would gladly keep vigil and let them take turns napping, but none of them will, so this is how it is.
A tiny one will soon appear. I hope it will be before midnight, on the same day the little birds hatched on my front door wreath. Little pink fingertips that look kind of like caterpillars with partial fur. Craning veiny necks..."where's mommy?"
I should paint. I should write. I should call people. I should finish my taxes. I should clean house.....I should house hunt. I guess I don't know what to do with myself.

Late

I forgot to write.
It's late Saturday night and I'm going to bed.
Painting has kept me busy enough not to write. I want to do both, but I need to paint now.
House on the beach. One hyperventilates thinking one may be able to buy it. Savings look good, but one is not a math person, nor is she a financial planner, or even good at budgeting. So it looks like the offer on the house will have to be pulled even though Bank of America pre-qualified me in about 2 mintues on line. I don't have enough money.
The thing is I truly don't want the place unless it is right and good for me and everyone I know and unless it is God's idea.
So I pursued it but now it looks like too much risk. Sink all your money into it and then eat beans and rice and walk to work (you had to sell your car....)
Anyway, it was a sobering day, not only because I withdrew my offer for the house, but because I realized I'm using up my savings too fast and not building my business fast enough.
So I should run and hide and be depressed about it and go to sleep and give up and go on thinking I'm just a dumb girl.
NO!
God gave me a new name:
confidence, faithfulness, overcoming one. those things in that little chorus I love.
Some recent paintings above.