WHAT NEXT?

Three Christmases ago, a friend gave me an amaryllis that was full of surprises. It had tried to bloom while still in the box, and when I took it out to be potted, the bulb had already grown a withered looking flower. What a disappointment that turned out to be.

The leaves continued to grow for a while, but no more bulbs emerged. Eventually, even the leaves turned brown and died. That, however, was not the end of the story.

Two years later, a new shoot suddenly appeared, and practically overnight, my plant was transformed from dud to four-flowered beauty.  (If you are interested, there is a post--Never Say Never--on my picture blog that documents the process and has many pictures).


Eventually the amaryllis plant got top heavy, and no amount of propping or turning it to face the light could keep it upright, so I cut off the flowers and put them in a vase, where they flourished for another week.

Meanwhile, unlike the first time, the leaves never turned brown or died. They just kept growing taller, and taller, and taller, and when I went to water them the other day, there was a third new leaf sprouting up between the other two.


















Can't wait to see what happens next.

STANDING ON THE EDGE

These men are fearless.

Today they were painting the corral and top of the tower, and the one wearing the red shirt was actually standing on the edge--OUTSIDE the protective rail.

FEELING STUMPED

The question at the end of a survey I was filling out took me by surprise. "What do you consider to be your greatest life accomplishment and why?" My mind went blank. Even now, many hours later, I'm still not sure what to say.

Attending McGill University was an accomplishment. Academics had not been my forte--especially math, my nemesis--but when our math teacher told me I would not be able to pass the college entrance exams, it spurred me on to prove her wrong. I studied so hard for those exams that even though most of what I'd crammed into my brain was soon forgotten, I was able to retain it long enough to get surprisingly high grades and become one of a very few girls from our school to be accepted by this most prestigious college on the list.

After graduating from McGill, I wanted to further my education and become a speech therapist, but the only school in our area that offered the required training was the University of Montreal, a French university. Up for the challenge, I enrolled in their speech pathology and audiology master's degree program despite my limited knowledge of the language. Graduating with honors was quit an accomplishment.

Being a single mom in New York City was also an accomplishment of sorts. My husband died when the children were seven and nine, leaving them with a mother totally lacking in parenting skills. Nevertheless, despite my well intentioned but misguided efforts, and by the grace of God, they grew up to be adults I can be proud of.

The only other thing I can think of that would qualify as an accomplishment, is writing a memoir, and becoming an author of children's picture books in the winter of my years. It's always been so hard for me to express myself, I never aspired to be a writer, and the way it came about surprised even me. I can only believe that God has a sense of humor, and delights in making the seemingly impossible possible. Nothing is too challenging for Him.

REGRETS

My church is engaged in a 21 days of prayer  event. Everyone who wanted to participate was given a journal with a Scripture verse and suggested prayer for each day.  Today's prayer was to "Put your situation in God's hands and ask for mercy."

I have many regrets about how much of my current situation is due to the poor choices I've made.  I'm also remorseful for how I've squandered time, wasted opportunities, mismanaged finances, and neglected my body. Regrets, however, are futile. No one of us can go back and change the past.

Life may not have turned out the way I wish it had, and there are consequences for my actions, but I believe God can redeem the mess I've made and still use me to be a testimony to His grace so others can see the transformation and be drawn to Him.

Perhaps I'm exactly what and where I need to be for this particular moment in God's plan. Maybe instead of mourning the loss of what might have been, I should be rejoicing that I have been given the gift of what might not have been.

Had I pursued my talents and education to their fullest, and been the best mother/wife/daughter/ friend possible, would I ever have felt a need for the Lord or for His saving grace? Would I perhaps have spent my life chasing after the things this world has to offer, instead of the things that have eternal value? Would I have missed God's gift of salvation, a greater tragedy by far?

Unlike the world, God does not measure success in numbers. If I reach that one person He intended for me to reach, allow Him to use me to bring hope to that one discouraged heart, or lead that one soul out of the darkness and to the foot of the Cross, then my purpose will have been accomplished, and my life not lived in vain. It's all a matter of perspective.

SPIDERMAN DOES HIS THING

For over a year now, I've been watching our water tower get prepped and rehabilitated.

First all cellular antennas and equipment had to be moved to a temporary tower. Then began a process of soldering, welding, construction of an antenna corral, and finally the installation of an intricate pulley system to pull drape-like tarps up and down (pictures on my photo blog).
























It was behind this covering of tarps that the sandblasting and most of the painting took place.














Once the tarps were no longer needed, the pulleys had to be dismantled, so Spiderman was summoned to do the job.

CATCHING UP

I't's exciting to be back, and I've been busy getting the old home spruced up. My sidebar needed updating, as did the list of blogs I used to follow. Sadly, many friends have moved on without leaving a forwarding address, but I'm looking forward to the new ones I've yet to meet.

Life has taken many unexpected twists and turns in the six years I was gone. My family has celebrated several weddings and graduations, and I've been blessed with three new great-grandchildren. The youngest just turned one, and I've chosen the picture of her birthday cake for this post because of the lovely memory attached to it of her three-year-old sister excitedly proclaiming, "Great-granny is here; great-granny is here," when she saw me at the door.

One of my last posts was about a family of ravens who had built a nest near the top of a water tower across from my balcony. I had been taking pictures of the babies learning how to fly, and as I looked through my photos, the idea of a children's picture book popped into mind. Though I'd never dreamed of some day writing picture books, that's exactly what happened. My first book, The Water Tower Ravens launched me into an exciting new career as a writer for children.

My next book, Leafster, was inspired by pictures I had taken of my great-grandson and a katydid at a family get-together at the pool. Again, the pictures came first, with no thought of turning them into a book until I looked through them and saw a story.

Leafster was soon followed by Along the Trail, an interactive book I wrote for a friend's birthday. Unlike the other two, this one was planned, and filled with pictures of creatures we encountered while out walking on one of our favorite trails.

Then on New Year's Eve of 2017, life took an unexpected turn in a different direction, as I found myself in the Emergency Room, hooked up to a ventilator, and suffering from acute congestive heart failure and double pneumonia. There were some doubts as to whether or not I would be able to pull through, but my church family prayed and fasted for me, and their prayers were answered. I did survive, and after almost a month in the hospital, and three weeks in a rehab re-learning how to walk, talk, and do all the simple things I used to take for granted, I was able to come home. My book, Oil of Myrrh, is a testimony of how the Lord worked in my life during this challenging time.

Three months later, in May of 2018, I opted to have open heart surgery to replace my severely regurgitating mitral valve that doctors were unable to successfully repair during my January hospital stay.

So there you have it. That's my story. At the moment I am doing well, and feeling very grateful for all my blessings. There's another picture book in the works too. Who would have thought?

HOME AGAIN

This was my first blog. I started it a little over 12 years ago when I was grandma to six, great-granny to one, and thought sharing my experiences might brighten someone's day, or even offer encouragement to someone who needed it.  I enjoyed making and following new friends.  Then along came Facebook, and I got so caught up in that, my blog posts became fewer and further apart. They stopped altogether when I started two new blogs--The Splendor of God's Brushstrokes, to post my photos on, and At the Foot of the Cross, for pretty much the same reason I started this blog.

Now I'm a grandma to seven, great-granny to four, still aspiring to make a difference and brighten someone's day, but wondering why I thought I needed two additional blogs to do this. So here I am back "home" again, searching for an answer, and grateful I never followed the impulse to delete this one when I moved on.

What a humbling experience these past few hours have been. Reminiscing my way through posts has brought tears and laughter, but most of all, it has blessed me with the very gift I had hoped to bless others with. Long forgotten comments have encouraged me, lifted my spirits, and brightened my day. Who would have thought? If any of you who wrote them still inhabit blogland and are reading this, thank you, thank you. thank you. You've made me want to stick around for while.

REDIRECTING

No, I'm not deleting this blog--at least, not yet--but I am putting it to rest for a season while I focus on two of my other blogs--At The Foot of the Cross, and The Splendor of God's Brushstrokes.  I hope you will come and visit me there.

AN ENCOURAGING WORD

This was my first blog.  I started it almost seven years ago with the hopes that sharing my experiences would brighten someone's day, or perhaps offer encouragement to someone who needed it.  I enjoyed making and following new friends.  Then along came Facebook, and I got so caught up in that, my blog posts became fewer and further apart. I increasingly found myself wondering why I was even keeping it alive, as a little voice in my head whispered, "What's so special about you that makes you feel you have something to offer?  What do you have to say that hasn't already been said by someone else, and said better?"

Today I decided to listen to that voice and delete this blog.  But first, a trip down memory lane.  As I scrolled down my list of posts I came across one I had written several years ago, entitled A REMINDER TO ME (AND YOU TOO IF YOU NEED IT).  I was curious to see what I had been reminding myself of, and opened it up.  Wow!  Talk about a Divine encounter.  

Apparently, I had been having some very similar thoughts back then, and the reminder was:  BEWARE OF FALLING INTO THE TRAP OF COMPARING YOURSELF TO OTHERS.  

I won't copy the whole post, because you can read it by clicking on the link to it above, but the following story from the  Streams in the Desert devotional I had been reading at the time was an awesome reminder that I'm a Divine original (as are you) created for a special purpose that no one else can fulfill.

It's the story of a king who goes into his garden one morning and finds everything withered and dying.  He starts asking the plants what the problem is. The oak says it doesn't want to live any more because it's not tall and beautiful like the pine tree, the pine tree is upset because it can't bear grapes like the grapevine, the grapevine bemoans the fact that that it doesn't produce fruit as large as the peaches on the peach tree, the geranium is disheartened because it's not tall and fragrant like the lilac, and so on it goes throughout the garden until the king gets to the little violet and and comments on how happy he is to see at least one flower bright and perky.  To which the violet responds, "I know I'm small, yet I thought if you wanted an oak or a pine or a peach tree or even a lilac, you would have planted one.  Since I knew you wanted a violet, I'm determined to be the best little violet I can be."

I don't know if anyone else will read this post, or if I even have any followers left in Blogland who might be encouraged by it, but I do know it has convicted me to keep on keeping on, and that it's not time to throw the towel in yet.  

THE LOST RING

I hate shopping.  Maybe it's because more often than not, I'm disappointed with my purchases.  Nothing seems to look the way I thought it would once I get it home, and my latest experience was no exception.

I had gone shopping for some accessories to wear with a dress a friend helped me choose for a very special occasion.  A necklace and bracelet set caught my eye, as did a pretty ring.  I was excited to have so quickly found what I thought were the perfect pieces to wear with said dress.  Alas, they turned out not to be perfect at all.  Furthermore, to add to my chagrin, I discovered that the ring I had been wearing was no longer on my finger.  I must have left it at the store.

The next morning I went back to return my purchases and look for the ring.  I searched all the jewelry racks and checked the Lost and Found, but it wasn't anywhere.  I felt crushed.  It was only a cheap little ring, but it had sentimental value, and I really liked it.

When I got home, I called my friend and told her about my misadventures.  I asked her if she would be willing to help me pick out the jewelry I needed since I wasn't having much luck on my own.  Unlike me, she loves shopping, and was eager to comply.

We arranged to meet the next day, and while she happily rummaged through the racks, I went back to the Lost and Found.  My ring was not there.  Dejected, I returned to the jewelry department and asked her to keep an eye out for it.

Not five minutes later, she walked over to me with a big grin on her face and an outstretched palm.  There in the middle of it was my missing ring.  She had found it on a ledge near the floor.  Was that a miracle, or what?