fretful sleep on a twin bed with a 7 year old

Woke early after spending half the night in fretful sleep on a twin bed with a 7 year old who was frightened by the storm.  The morning was sweet.  The dog was very uncooperative - or maybe I was very impatient from my lack of rest.  My devotional time with my mom felt about like corralling the dog.  Much of my day will be spent in the studio.  I hope your day is blessed and your coffee as good as what my daughter brewed up.

Summer has officially begun.

WE GOT LIVI!! heehee, as in Annie.  

Sometimes I do it wrong

Sometimes, I just don't do it right.  I think I'm right, but I do it wrong instead.

From the inside out.

Yesterday Amanda was served with a custody change from her two year old daughter's father.  I have prayed that this would not happen yet, though I knew it probably would.  I've been very angry over the whole ordeal and this morning I finally processed the cause of my anger.  As with most things, the grace and power of God are multi-dimentional, reaching out in all directions to heal and change the hearts and lives of those who are his.
My parenting skills were less than the best.  My father doted on me; my mother could barely stand me: I was never good enough for her for whatever reason.  We've been working on that for a couple of years and it's better, but not fixed by any means.  When I married the girls' dad, who made my life hell for 17 years, she said he was the son she always wanted.  She frequently informed me that he was more like her child than I was.  I didn't ever say anything.  My life was definitely full of mistakes. 
I loved my girls so much.  I thought I could protect them by being strict and ever present.  It didn't work.  Each of them rejected my home, my life and eventually my moars and belief.  Yes they have their own belief, but they will be quick to inform you -and me- 'it is not my belief.' 
I had grandchildren who were so close and promised undying love.  Yeah, I'm a grown up.  I knew they would grow up and choose a life beyond me - physically, morally and emotionally.  I have reestablished relationship with some as adults, but the sweet fellowship and unity I thought would be there was fleeting at best and basically illusive, as it was with the parents.  Do they love me?  I think so in their own way.  But like the parents, not in any way that effects life, morality or thinking. 
Amanda was my last child.  When she left Arkansas, she didn't even say 'good-by.'  It's quite possible she said 'good-riddance.'  Did I make mistakes with her?  I did.  You'd have thought after 4 I would have had a clue, but I didn't.  When she got pregnant, she was in North Carolina.  I was given pictures every now and then by the person who really mattered in her life.  I could not even admit it made me jealous and mad.  I really had no right.  I had already been rejected.  I was hurt.
When her baby was born, it was her sister who stood by her bed.  We did go to see her right after she got home, but it was in her sister's house - and we felt like intruders in the home, the baby scenerio and their lives.  We left vowing we'd never stay with them again and not just me.  I love her sister with all my heart, but that's a different story.  I won't be subject to that disrespect even if I deserve it in some way.
I've never gotten to be a gramma to Emma.  I've seen her 4 times in her 2 years.  The most recent was the afternoon we picked Amanda up to bring her back to Arkansas and try to get her some help. 
If this custody thing goes the way it is written, I never will get to be a gramma to her.  Boohoo, I know, yet there it is.  At least with the others, I've had my gramma time.  I've had my sweet talks.  I've had my promises.  They are sweet, precious memories that will carry me through the droughts in our relationships.  I wanted that with Emma somehow.  At Christmas, she only warmed up to me the slightest bit.  She did have fun with grampa and that I was glad of.  The previous visits were at birth and at 3 months.  The afternoon we picked her mom up, she had no knowledge or remembrance of me.  She really wanted nothing to do with me at all.  I can't blame her.  I am a total stranger.  Angry, sad, wounded and a stranger.  I had hoped for so much more.  I believed for so much more.  And suddenly the small light that flickered was going out.
So this day, I processed it.  I looked it in the face and then bared it before my God, my Savior.  Oh, yes, I still have an opinion.  I still want.  But I have little to base hope on except that my God loves me and will get me through this. 
I do cry for my daughter.  She came here to try to get her life straightened out so she could be the mother she wanted to be.  It was not an easy decision, even if she was to a great degree forced into it.  It's not a fast fix.  We all knew that going in and after a few days, we understood it much more. 
The opportunism of the people who now care for Emma was enhanced by her situation.  They didn't have to lie.  The truth was condemning enough.  But they did lie.
I apologized to my God for my self-centeredness; I recognized my arrogance and snobbery.  I can only now sit and watch how it plays out.  I will toss myself and my pitiful weakness on his mercy and pray for grace and forgiveness.  I will ache each time I see my daughter's eyes well with tears, each time I hear her say "I did this.  It is my fault."
I will pray.  I will listen.  I will walk forward.  I will believe because I choose to believe that God may yet be gracious to us.
Today I sat in my livingroom by myself with tears on my face.  I heard within myself a voice singing an old hymn - only the first part: 'Be still my soul, the Lord is on your side; bear patiently your cross of grief and pain. Leave to your God to order and provide; in every change He faithful will remain.'

Be Still My Soul - Selah - Worship Video w/lyrics

Be Still My Soul

Because it is ours

Because it is ours is not a good reason to keep every shred of junk we have ever collected.   I know it's broke, but it's ours. I know we can't use it, but it's ours. Once the world has moved on, this stuff should be able to move out.  Grrrrrr.  Okay I've said it.  That changes nothing, but it's off my chest - until I pass that TV that you can't watch or the stack of old computer towers that are totally obsolete or the broken tv in the closet that does still work.  Hmmm that one isn't even ours.

Tuesday

Tuesday was a sweet busy day with my phone buzzing every so often all day long with "Happy Birthday" texts.  I got over 50 wishes.  I was tickled.  I am a blessed person and want to relish the blessing of the day and not the curse of the past.  Yesterday was the anniversary of my accident.  In the past, it has brought a feeling of foreboding and remnants of sorrow and loss.  But this year, it was acknowledged but had no sway on my mood or thoughts.  My life is busy.  My mind is captured with the present tasks which would be too much for this old body in the norm of things, but then I find strength outside the norm.  I am blessed.  God is prying the past from my weakening fingers and teaching me to live with the joy of the present anyway!  I hope you are blessed this day.

May 8, 2012

This morning I realized that for most of my childhood people concentrated on what was wrong about me: life was about the 'didn't do's and the 'don't do's and the 'you did that's. I was nervous, noisy, and boisterous. I was backwards, upsidedown and sideways. My father, a friend and one teacher stand as the exception. Even as an adult it has often been the case. As a result I have concentrated on the 'left out's, the 'not enough's and the soul injuries. With God as my witness, I close that door this morning. I wept as I saw it for the first time in that way. They were good and healing tears.

Go figure.

I'm learning much about freedom.  Go figure.

pingpong ball in a room full of fans

My brain is like a pingpong ball in a room full of fans this morning.  So much to do; so much to plan; so much to think about.  The dawn was beautiful with just enough cool for freshness.  The pup is my friend again, but not quite as much as before I let him loose for a bit and decided it would not work yet.  I have enough of my garden in to be impatient about getting the rest in.  I will be in the studio most of the day and must put it all on a back shelf of my mind for now along with the other wannabees.  I hope your day is blessed.

Willow vs. the garden

Willow went up the hill with me to work on the garden.  He was on a long tether.  I was watering plant that were going in and I really wished I'd had a video of his antics with the water hose.  He's a pretty funny guy - trying to bite the water and capture it with his paws, but not wanting to have it splash on him.  Problem was, I couldn't get any work done with him up there.  Not sure how this garden thing is going to work once he's loose.

Willow vs tether

Willow had a pretty good day yesterday. He's housebroke. His intelligence amazes me. After twice, he sat down for me to put on the halter and now he even tries to put his feet in it, though sometimes its about as effective as a 2 year old trying to help you put his pants on. Two different times he has tried to put it on himself!  I wouldn't be surprised if he succeeds some day.  He likes the halter because it means we will be free to go whereever. . . . . . . . . The first time I tethered him he pouted as soon as he got to the end of the rope. Yesterday, he decided that being out where I was working and having some freedom was worth having a rope tied to a gazebo. Amanda led him out of his first real tie up, and since then he has been pretty astute at backtracking his rope tangles.  Once however, Hobbes, who was sitting on a high stump where he watches my garden adventures, jumped over his head and took off down the hill.  He was internally obliged to chase, but a interesting pattern of previous meanderings caused him to come to a very quick jerk that boomeranged into a hard thud on the ground. I came out of the garden and he looked up at me from the ground as if to say "What happened here?" So I led him back around the apple tree, and through the swing supports until he had a little more rope again. . . . . . . . .He and Hobbes aren't buds yet, but they are fascinated by each other. Someday, I may share some of the life lessons I'm learning from this amazing pup.

the pup has a name

Well the pup has a name.  We had talked about a lot of names that seemed to fit where he is now - Bilbo (sneaky, always disappearing, wanderer), Shaddow (dark, quiet, down), Chance (we are taking a chance on him and he is getting a chance at a good home) and some others. I realized last night that he needs to have a name if he's going to learn to respond to it. So this morning I got busy. I began saying "What do I hope he will become?" instead of "What name fits him." I believe he will be loyal, kind, intelligent, protective, brave when needed. We came up with two: Gamgee and Willow, from favorite movies. We -Amanda and I- finally settled on Willow, and so he is. If you aren't familiar with that movie, it's a good one.  He is learning to respond very well.  He likes the halter, because that means he's going out on the hill.  He doesn't really like the tether, but he needs it for now.  As I know that he can respond to his name and will come when called, I'll let him run free in the yard.  We also have a mend or two that need to be made.  He likes the treats and is learning to trust us.  So that's what's going on in my little corner.  Blessings.