THIS IS A TRUE STORY – I’M NOT SAYING I’M PROUD OF MYSELF – BUT HERE GOES.
Funny things happen to me all the time. Either that or I’m not all there and everything just seems funny.
My youngest daughter brought an assignment home to finish for her art class. It was made of paper mâché and when it dried completely, she was able to paint it. She was very proud of her work. She put extra effort into making it extra special. It was worthy of a good grade.
Everyone turned in for the night and the little paper mâché dog sculpture sat unconcerned on the kitchen counter. It was one of those nights when I semi-woke up and wandered aimlessly into the kitchen. I wasn’t fully conscious. This wasn’t unusual since I was often found sleepwalking. The house was dark. There wasn’t a sound to be heard except the growling coming from my stomach. Even though I was in a dream state, I felt the pangs of hunger.
My hands reached out in the darkness and landed on the dog art. Slowly I lifted the innocent victim to my lips. I opened my mouth. It looked like dark chocolate, but it didn’t smell like it. It didn’t smell like anything. My pearly whites wrapped themselves around the morsel and bit down.
It was one of the most disgusting things I’ve ever tasted. I immediately woke up, spit the tidbit into the garbage, rinsed my mouth out with water and went back to bed. Remember this. I was not aware of any wrongdoing.
The next morning, I was sharply awakened by screams coming from my youngest child. I ran to see what happened and there she was with the decapitated dog in her hand. She was devastated. Suddenly, the events of the night before began to unfold before my eyes. I couldn’t do anything but confess my guilt.
I had a hard time explaining the truth to my family and to her teacher that I had eaten her homework, but looking back, it was one of those funny things that stays with you for the rest of your life. Finding humor in unlikely situations can make you look like a real idiot, or it can help you keep your sanity. Or both!
This piece of pastel art expresses the light at the end of our suffering. For those who are going through the grieving process, it doesn’t seem you’ll ever get better. Your memories are sustaining you. Your family and friends are checking in on you. Those you associate with you are giving you encouragement. Most of all, God has been through the entire process with you; covering you with His mighty wings; rebuilding the losses you’ve endured; guiding you through each day; making your own path to heaven possible.
Jacob is a good example of this. In the book of Genesis, we read how he physically wrestled with God. He had a life of struggle, but he usually wound up on top. The problem is that he was a con man and used untruths to get ahead. His time in the desert led to meeting God in the darkness of night, wrestling with Him, eventually surrendering but not without injury. In the process of grieving, we too are in a battle with God. It’s not easy to surrender, but a necessary part of the process. During Paul’s final year of living, we talked a lot about turning things over to God, and how our pride and sinful nature lead us to think we can control our destiny. The ability to let go, be still and know that He IS God and capable of anything, is that final test which will give us eternal peace
When we reach this stage, we’ve decided to stop feeling sorry for ourselves. We determine to believe our circumstances are real and begin to live with them. Not everyone will go through these steps of the grieving process, but one thing we must learn from any kind of loss is that we’re not alone in our struggle. The scars from grief are many. Eventually they will fade away. Our memories will keep our loved one alive until we join them in eternity.
GOD HAS THIS!
When bruised and injured we do fall, before our Father’s throne And look upon the lamb once slain for all sins to atone, Our pain is nothing next to His, our wounds are all but naught. The blood He shed, His torturous death were all with insult fraught,
But still the Son of God went forth in dignity and strength, He took our place and bore the cross until His dying breath, Three days went by. He shunned the grave and rose to life again. He did this so I too could claim a life in heaven with Him.
Sweet Jesus you have walked the road that I deserved to go.You did this oh so willingly, You knew just what to do. So, when I’m feeling battered and pulled in many ways. Remind me of the walk you took and please accept my praise.
When fears and worries are so real, We sometimes wonder why we feel, The pangs of deep depression.
The weight’s extreme – we lose all hope, Our hearts grow sad – for strength we grope, To lighten this progression.
We look within and try to cope There are no answers in our scope It now becomes oppression.
We try so hard to rise above, We search in vain for any love. To deal with this obsession.
We cannot do it on our own, We need one advocate alone, To bring our full confession.
God takes our hand and leads us out, Relieves our pain – our fear – our doubt. He is our best possession.
His love is great – it sees us through When there is nothing we can do. Our words hold no expression.
He lifts us from the pit of death. He died for us to give us breath. To wipe out our transgression.
When we lose someone to death, there’s an immediate sadness. We worry how we’ll survive, how we’ll pay for funeral expenses, how we’ll live without the deceased. In this situation we all could use a big hug, but even that doesn’t make the pain go away. We must keep ourselves occupied, busy and in some sort of state of normalcy. One of the signs of depression is escaping into the world of sleep. This place of refuge seems the most logical, because for the most part sleep eats up time that we would normally be using to mourn. With sleep dreams come. They may be about the departed. They may leave you even more depressed. So, how does one escape this downward spiral. It becomes a dark rabbit hole that could ultimately lead to suicidal thoughts. If you thought you were vulnerable at the beginning of this process, it appears even worse as time goes by.
For me, personally, I have felt this way from time to time. I can usually overcome feelings of depression by finding something to keep me busy. Lately, I’ve been going through the motions of living. I rise early in the morning. I do all the necessary things to get ready for the day. I sit down in front of my computer and think about what to write for my daily blog. Most of my morning is spent doing household chores. The afternoons have been swallowed up lately with dangerous air quality. My breathing issues make it almost impossible to go outside, so I stay in trying to keep my mind occupied with menial tasks. After dinner, I retreat to my chair and watch television until it’s time to go to bed. I think this step is probably the hardest because I begin to feel alone, even though I have my grandson living with me. For these many past months there has been a plethora of activity. Now there is none. This is the time to set aside those lonely feelings and reach out to those who care about you. You may think you can handle everything on your own, but you can’t.
God has been with you during this entire time. He will continue to walk with you and guide you through the plan He has designed for your life. Don’t ever forget that. Also, this is the time to reach out to those closest to you. Your family and friends can be a great source of encouragement. Don’t let your mind shift into dark places. The Light of the World is your best friend. He will never let you go.
Several years ago, Paul went on a retreat with one of his old high school buddies in Wisconsin. This was a time of fellowship, renewing old memories and painting plein air. The artists were asked to paint various elements of nature. The first day – sky, Day 2 – land, Day 3 – water and on the 4th day they would paint all the elements together. These were painted on window shades, so the size and majesty of each painting was evident.Paul’s work always inspires me. I know he was in love with God. His work shows that. He knew he was forgiven and he would be with His savior forever. How can I feel guilty about that?
The third step in the grieving process is bargaining and guilt. When our loved ones are at death’s door, do we bargain with God? Do we pray for easing of pain and suffering and even sometimes ask for God to take that person home to heaven? Do we wish that it had been us instead of them? Do we feel guilty for thinking that way? Guilt is hard to admit. We have, however, been forgiven from all our sins. Because of our gratitude for God’s greatest gift, the rest of our days should be spent thanking and praising Him. Each Sunday we confess our sins. We repent. We receive God’s forgiveness. Our guilt acts as a reminder of the necessity to put God first in our lives. It also shows us our need for a Savior. The beauty of being sanctified comes by continuing to live life with a purpose. To serve Him, to care for others, to pray for them, to share your love of God with them and to reach out with the good news to everyone you meet.
The second step in the grieving process is anger. Anger is an almost uncontrollable emotion. It can eat away at our very souls and destroy us if we let it. Most of the time it will cause us to become anxious or depressed. Maybe this step is the hardest one for me. I haven’t really experienced it yet. Yes, I am angry that Paul isn’t here to help me through some difficult decisions. I’m angry that I wasn’t the first to find peace in heaven. I’m angry that my husband will not be here to see his grandchildren marry and have children. I’m angry that he isn’t here to make me laugh when I want to cry – encourage me when I feel I’ve failed – inspire me to do the best I can. He was my soulmate. I loved him with all my heart. It might not seem fair. I may want to blame someone. I could even believe that God is testing me again. I guess I have experienced it. Like I said yesterday, each one of us will go through this grieving process in a different way and even on a different time line.
In the watercolor painting today, we see three bison on the edge of the cliff. They look down and see the end of their lives awaiting them. A whole herd of bison are running behind them, there is nowhere else to go. Maybe this is the anger we experience when someone we love dies. It may seem that life will end for us soon. It may be that the weight of the world will finally be conquered. Instead of anger, I think what I’ve experienced is frustration. Yet, even in those darker days of resentment and anxiety, there is the assurance that we are not alone.
Through the darkness and the shadows, God is with me all the way,
Even when the road is cluttered, with the cares of every day,
When I’m lonely or downhearted, fears surround on every side,
When the path is filled with danger, He will always be my guide.
The world attacks and arrows pierce, death will overtake and win
Still the breath of life will conquer, Jesus washed away my sin,
Here on earth there will be trouble, but in heaven no more fear,
Still He watches and protects me, grace He adds to every year.
Every day is such a blessing, when we walk with God’s own Son,
He brought peace to all the living, and in death our souls are won,
Thank you, Jesus for your passion, for your grace and love so true,
The gates of heaven now open, when we just believe in You.
If you’ve ever had to look at mug shots at a police office. let me tell you, it’s not an easy task. I had the experience when I was working for a loan company at the age of 21. This is a true story, but before I get into it, take a look at all the above studies of various animals and one fellow put in for good measure. Pretty easy to determine what’s what. Paul had a keen eye for creating paintings, sketches, watercolors and wood sculptures that looked pretty much like the real thing. He was a gifted artist who made a career through his art. It wasn’t a hobby for him, though in his later years, he spent almost every day with a paintbrush, pencil or chisel in his hand.
Now to my story. It was the end of the workday. I was excited for the day to end because I was going for a fitting of my wedding dress after work. I quickly tallied the contents of my cash drawer and locked it up and was about to add the checks to be deposited. Just as I heard the click of that key, a couple of men entered the office wearing face masks and carrying guns. They focused on me mainly, because I was closest to the cash drawers. They told the other two employees to get down on their knees close their eyes.
All kinds of thoughts went through my mind. I was supposed to get married in a few weeks. My life was just beginning. My early years rushed through my mind as I imagined I wasn’t long for this world. One of the men came to me and told me to open the drawer as the other held his gun on the others. I tried as hard as I could to open the drawer, but it wouldn’t open. The more I tried, the harder it seemed to resist. Finally, the man told me to get down on the floor and count my blessings. Then there was an eerie silence. It seemed like time stood still for a while. There was no sound – no movement – nothing. In those brief seconds, I prayed that God would spare us any injury or even death.
At last, one of the other employees spoke. “They’re gone! They went out the back door. Get up and someone call the cops.”
Apparently, the nightmare was over, but was it? The police dusted for fingerprints and interviewed me, since I was the only one to interact with the thieves. They said I’d have to come to the station and look at some mug shots. I wondered how that was going to help, since I saw neither of their faces. Still, I agreed. When I got there, I assumed it would be like those lineups on TV which show a few people under blinding lights, line up with no ability to see who was looking at them. The witness would look through a glass one way window to see if any of the people looked familiar. It wasn’t that way at all.
There was no way I could recognize either of these guys. They were all about the same size. There was no glass window, nothing separating me from them. When the lights went out, they all filed out, right in front of me.
I told the police the perps were wearing masks, but they said they were more interested in the body size, weight any tattoos, color of hair and things like that. It was impossible to imagine what they looked like under those face masks. One voice sounded like the manager of the bowling alley nearby. Not being sure about anything made me an unreliable witness, so they sent me home. The next day there was an article in the newspaper about the robbery – along with a photograph of me (that looked like one of those mugshots I had viewed) along with my address, age and name.
I had escaped death, by the grace of God. However, I still felt terribly vulnerable due to the fact that the robbers would most likely see my mugshot in the newspaper and come after me. My soon-to-be husband rescued me and took me to his family’s summer home where I stayed until the heat cooled off.
The robbery was unsuccessful so there was no more police involvement, but like most things that are done for personal gain, someone will be affected, and I was. It took a long time for me to go back to that job, but I did. Not to mention I’m still here to tell the tale.
The promises of streets of gold and no more tears to shed, Hope for peace and quiet times – no fear of falling dead, The feast that goes on day and night and never fails to please, A life of independence and of everlasting ease.
It has been almost seven complete months since my husband went to his heavenly home. During the early days of grieving, I was given many books to read about the process of facing death and what to expect with the outcome. It seems that everyone goes through this at different times and in different ways. This week, I’m going to delve into those steps each day and try to pass along what I’ve discovered along the way. The first step in the process of grieving is denial & isolation. Personally, my experience isn’t the same as everyone else’s. It doesn’t make sense to put people into pigeonholes, but sometimes it’s helpful to see how others deal with grief, so we know how to cope.
Denial & Isolation – When we first experience loss of any kind, we go through a period of denial. Losing someone dear to most isn’t easy. We don’t want to admit our feelings of loss, so we isolate ourselves from others and pull deeper within. We don’t want to listen to the words of comfort, because we don’t believe them. We grow further away from those who cherish us. Even when the one we lose has gone through a long battle of illness, we try to convince ourselves that it’s for the best. Those words of comfort aren’t going to mean much to someone who has just experienced the death of a loved one. We’re stunned by the magnitude of the situation. Emotions are numbed by feeling we should be prepared for the unknown. In my case, I felt a certain relief that my husband had entered the heavenly realms. That his pain and suffering were over, but at the same time I wanted to hang onto him for the rest of my life.
My family was a great help during this time of grieving. They made sure I didn’t retreat into isolation. I pushed myself too. Instead of hiding, I continued to write each day. I discovered inspiration from Paul’s many paintings for my daily blog. I felt connected to him by doing so. Acceptance wasn’t really an issue for me, because I knew that death isn’t the end for those who love God. I knew where this man was going, because of what both of us believed. I also know that Jesus wept when he heard that his dear friend died. When we allow those tears to fall, we are releasing endorphins. In turn those endorphins get rid of the stresses that set in. We can’t hold back tears, but keeping busy allowed me to focus on other things. Looking back at special times we shared together was also a comfort. I learned that in the last year of our journey. One important thing to both of us, was to create memories of those last days and how they were spent.
Like I said at the beginning of this post, everyone is different. We don’t all grieve in the same manner or at the same time. These are simple guidelines to help us along the way. Knowing that God is with us through everything we encounter in our lives, gives us great peace and comfort.
The art of observation is a talent in itself. I looked at this one and saw a cobblestone walk in a wilderness environment. It set my mind to wondering if someone may have lived on the edge of that river. What happened to his home? Apparently, he made a place to shelter himself, complete with field stones surrounding it. Did he have a family? Was he a loner, making a new life for himself in the west? My imagination swelled as I looked deeper into the painting. I immediately had a whole different story to observe. It could have been a lake loaded with lily pads. I could almost hear frogs croaking in unison as their chorus welcomed the day. The way we look at things can change in a second. The mystery that Paul created in each of his works is evident in this one. The morning sun, rising over each crevasse of the mountain range, sifting through magnificent pines, gives a peaceful feeling to this painting. What do you see?
So many songs have been written about the mountains, streams, valleys. All of these describe a perfect oasis – a refuge from the crushing noise of civilization – a sanctuary where you can be alone with God and express your greatest needs to Him in prayer. You have access to the Almighty. Artists’ renditions of these remarkable locations can almost transport you to them. Words cannot sufficiently verbalize all the beauty that these places contain. The above painting comes from the mind of a talented man, who loved nature – found solace there – had a special connection with God – photographed these places in his brain for future reference. Being there is the only way to feel the contentment God intended for our pleasure. Being there through the art my husband created takes me there. Thank you, Paul.
Where do you find contentment when all around seems lost,
In city streets so dimly lit, at an expensive cost,
In valleys green where water pours through rivers pure and clean,
In waters deep, that wind and creep and keep the valley green,
In the darkness of the soul within, is that where you find peace,
In a sanctuary built of stone, where your problems you release,
Do you see it in the people that you greet most every day,
Is it in the quiet laughter of a child alone at play,
Is it in the calm serenity of music, art or dance,
Or does it come from looking at your love’s sweet, smiling glance,
Don’t search in darkest corners, you’ll never find it there,
The light that shines from heaven, has vanquished all your care.
But ask the beasts, and they will teach you; the birds of the heavens, and they will tell you; or the bushes of the earth, and they will teach you; and the fish of the sea will declare to you. Who among all these does not know that the hand of the Lord has done this? In his hand is the life of every living thing and the breath of all mankind.
I started out bald. I looked pretty much like a billiard ball until the age of one. It was then that hair actually appeared on my little noggin. Eventually it grew long enough for mom to curl it into rags and make beautiful, golden locks from it. Shirley Temple was all the rage when I was a little girl, so I fit the mold perfectly. As time went by, my hair turned a little darker until finally when I entered high school it was referred to as dishwater blond. Who wants to be stuck with a color like that? So, I found a bottle of hydrogen peroxide in the medicine cabinet and thought I’d give it a try. The change was gradual, which is precisely what I wanted. My mom never understood why she had to keep replacing the peroxide. Maybe she thought I was using it on my teeth.
Those high school years led to various rinses that would enhance the color of my hair. Nothing too damaging and certainly not as bad as pouring peroxide on my head every day. By the time I graduated, I had platinum blond hair. Years passed. I got tired of the Marilyn Monroe look and opted for a different color. By then I was married, and my husband had married a blond. I proceeded to experiment with different shades of blond. I even tried darker colors – dirty blond, ash blond, strawberry blond, honey blond. Who knew there were so many shades of one color?
After the birth of three children, I started to branch out even further. One week, in fact, I turned from blond to redhead to brunette and finally green hair. My husband told his friends he had gone to bed with a blond, redhead and brunette all in one week. When it turned green, he said nothing.
When my youngest daughter went to cosmetology school, I was lured into trying a plethora of new hair colors. I finally decided on the highlighted look and stuck with it for many years. It was a good choice. The colors blended well with the new natural gray tones beginning to appear.
Then I retired at age 75 I decided it was time to let nature take its course. It was getting expensive. It was one way to cut down on unnecessary costs. Within months, I still had highlights running through my crown of glory. Here I am, eight years later and I still have highlights. Maybe I should’ve saved myself a lot of money and lived with what I had. Maybe I should’ve done that with all the mistakes I made along the way.
This painting shows how birds communicate. You can almost hear this one screeching to another hawk to warn them of oncoming danger. Yes, they do have a language all their own. Not in words that we know, but a complete vocabulary that speaks to their own species – helps them select a mate – warns of dangerous situations – calls for help – even uses his voice for comforting. Isn’t it great how God gave each creature – great and small – the ability to converse with those sounds emitting from their mouths?
No matter what language we use, we are also warned to think before we speak. Words spoken in anger will stay with us forever. They will affect those to whom they are spoken. We can’t erase them no matter how hard we try, but we certainly can ask for forgiveness for saying them. When we’re in danger, we cry out for help. When we’re searching for someone who is lost, their name is shouted out in hopes that they will be found. When we need a friend, a word of comfort, a hug, or just can’t find the right words, God is there to provide them. The Bible is the source of God’s voice. He speaks to us directly through His Word. There is no language barrier. Communication doesn’t always seem logical, but it’s supported by other words within the same book. It has been a number one seller for centuries. It’s been available to just about everyone through translations that fit the language. God breathed the words into the pens of His and gives them to us at no cost. What a blessing from God.
Psalm 91:1-6 He who dwells in the shelter of the Most High will abide in the shadow of the Almighty. I will say to the Lord, “My refuge and my fortress, my God, in whom I trust.” For he will deliver you from the snare of the fowler and from the deadly pestilence. He will cover you with his pinions, and under his wings you will find refuge; his faithfulness is a shield and buckler. You will not fear the terror of the night, nor the arrow that flies by day, nor the pestilence that stalks in darkness, nor the destruction that wastes at noonday.
I hear my Father’s loving voice in every single word,
He speaks them to me with wisdom, beyond what I have heard,
His voice rings true, His love does too, it will not be deterred,
His perfect plan is written there so we can be referred,
To God’s own paradise above, our souls will be conferred,
Because of His own precious Son, salvation has occurred.
Today’s watercolor shows a depth of color using only earth tones. The deer is feeding on lush grasses as the trees protect her from predators. You can see the light dancing through the branches as she fills her tummy with nourishment. A taste of morning dew adds to the meal. It is so comforting to know that the God who created all things makes sure that they are well provided for and protected. If he does so with the creatures of the forests, how much more will He provide for the ones He created in His own image. Blessings every day, even when we don’t honor and thank Him for them. Thank you, Jesus, for another day.
Encased by brush and branches there, the safe refuge holds you tight,
The world is oh so far away, you’re hidden from its sight,
The fear you hold within your mind, adrenaline will excite,
But comfort still you harbor there, it prevents you from all fright,
So quietly you stand at bay, you hang on with all your might,
The clouded, purple skies of above, retreat into endless night,
You know you can’t hide forever. Your dreams fade and lose delight,
He knows your every single move. From heaven He sees your plight,
He sent His Son to die for you – and eliminate sin’s bite,
He changes hearts and human minds. He’s returned dark into light,
Your life is in His strong right hand, your future is looking bright.
This lovely watercolor shows the great beak of a wondrous bird, the pelican. Today I’m foregoing my own poetry for that of a man named Dixon Lanier Merritt. It is often credited to Ogden Nash, who wrote many limericks and humorous poems. Today, we set the record straight.
Paul and I took many little road trips together and especially enjoyed a wildlife refuge in Sherburne County, MN. All sorts of birds gathered in that place. It wasn’t unusual to find Sandhill Cranes, Trumpeter Swans, Eagles, Ducks of many types and Pelicans taking advantage of this wonderful sanctuary. A driving trail leads through the park, highlighting areas where these many species gather at the same watering hole. Not unlike us human creatures. We too can take advantage of God’s beautiful creation, because He made it for our pleasure.
A WONDERFUL BIRD IS THE PELICAN, BY DIXON LANIER MERRITT
A wonderful bird is the pelican, His bill will hold more than his belican, He can take in his beak Enough food for a week But I’m damned if I see how the helican!
Wouldn’t it be nice to have a built-in refrigerator attached to your face, where you could store enough food for a week? Especially if you’re flying somewhere and don’t know what kind of grocery stores you might encounter on the trip. God certainly knows how to plan for all of us.
If you’ve ever taken a family vacation to the western states, the above painting is a familiar sight. Yellowstone Falls is a mainstay of photographers, sight seers, campers and artists. It’s one of those places that sticks in your memory for a long time. I have a much larger version of this work in my foyer. It brings back so many memories. Do you have a special place that clings to your heartstrings? Paul and I revisited Yellowstone after our children were all grown up. This time our camping was done in the back of our pickup truck. No fear of bears invading the food supply, only the sounds of nature and a million stars filling the sky. It was time to turn in for the night. Paul remained for a while until the campfire was almost gone while I headed back to the camper to get ready for bed. For some reason – maybe the altitude = maybe my resistance to camping – perhaps the fear of someone or something pouncing on me in the darkness. Maybe it was mountain sickness or my fear of small places. Whatever it was led to a most embarrassing moment. The walls began to close in. My head was spinning. The darkness was indelible. Paul entered the camper. I began to scream like a wild woman. “Leave me alone. Get out of here. My husband will take care of you.” Well, it didn’t take long for the entire campground to come to life. It so happened that our site was located right next to the manager. Needless to say, we spent the rest of our trip in motels. Paul thought I did an excellent job of acting in order to get my way.
A haze encapsulated sky sheds a minute dose of light,
Upon the river’s edge,
Capturing reflections,
Dispersing shadows,
Displaying an array of natural color,
Until only a few short months ago,
The ice retreated from the glacial lake,
Which once was a frozen mass of crystal shards,
Now replaced with a new beginning,
A new day has dawned,
Light dances across the water,
To a symphony of brilliance,
Performed by an orchestra of birds,
Bullfrogs,
Crickets,
The dance will not end until night falls,
The waters have returned, God’s finger has opened them,
This is a time of transition,
Time to sweep out the cobwebs of discontent,
Time to lift the veil of anticipation,
And look ahead to coming days,
To reach heights never dreamed of,
To find renewal,
To live.
In our efforts to conform, we often hold back from trying something different. When our circumstances change, we adjust and adapt. Life goes on. God wants us to enjoy every area of His creation. Don’t hold back. Live!
WATERCOLOR ART BY PAUL BOECHER & SHORT STORY BY KATHY BOECHER
There are days when forgiveness seems impossible. Someone has wronged you and made you feel insignificant or useless. Their words and actions have left you empty. Forgiving a person for hurting you in such a way is difficult, but God commands us to do so. Paul’s watercolor painting seems to fit the short story that follows.
I guess I was about five when I realized I could climb up that maple tree in our backyard. Dad said, his father planted it when he was just a young boy. I grew up in my grandfather’s house, you see. He died before I was born, but I could feel his presence each time I pushed my way through the aging branches of his tree.
There was a swing, attached by heavily woven rope which had endured the years of storms and weather. It was still there when I came along. I guess my dad couldn’t bear parting with it because of the memories it held. Grandpa died when he was only 56 years old, leaving my dad in charge of the family business. Grandma didn’t take any of it very well. Eventually she passed away too. Dad was well into his 30s before he met mom. The old timber frame house became dad’s. He carried mom over the threshold when they married. He hustled her out the front door to make it to the hospital in time for me to be born. Two more babies would come through that front door after me.
Dad showed me how to straighten bent nails so they could be reused. A lesson in patience I guess. Yet there were times I didn’t understand dad. He was strict. Never hurt me, mind you, but a glance of disappointment would burn like a scalding branding iron.
I was thirteen when dad went to heaven. It’s hard to believe I made it through that time. For a while I blamed God for taking him away from me when I needed him most. I was angry that He didn’t let him attend my wedding or meet his grandchildren.
Why did he have to die? I wanted to die too. My life was a mess. I’d spend hours in that treehouse. I remember sitting there during a terrible rainstorm. The wind was blowing. The walls began to shake. I thought this might be the end of the simple refuge in grandpa’s tree. Dad’s words whispered in my ear. “If you have a good foundation, you can count on a sound building.”
Things began to deteriorate. I got mixed up with the wrong crowd, starting using drugs and alcohol to numb the pain of losing the most important man in my life. I saw how my behavior was affecting my mother and my siblings, but nothing seemed to wipe away the tears that burned in my heart. I missed my dad, even that steely glare he’d send my way.
Eventually nothing would heal the pain. I hit rock bottom. I remembered the words of my mom after dad died. “God will never leave us, even in our darkest times.” I didn’t put much stock into those words, but as days turned into nights and life reeled into darkness, I heard her words again. Once more I retreated to the safety of the tree. I knelt down and asked God to be with me. I couldn’t go on living the way I was. In that moment I realized that God had been with me through it all. He never gave up on me. In spite of my resistance, God forgave my drifting from Him and He still loves me as I’m sure my own father did. Now it was time to forgive myself.
This morning view of a peaceful forest, with a mighty white-tailed buck is fodder for another painting. The sketch is a mixture of colored pencils and watercolor. Paul’s happiest place was in the woods, whether it was painting, hunting, or just observing God’s beautiful creation. My happiest place was with him. I can still feel his presence through his amazing collection of art.I am so grateful for my life with this amazing man.
The beauty of the morning mist – the trees by sunshine have been kissed,
Each day that dawns gives life anew – brings light amidst the sparkling dew,
The creatures of the forest wake – a breakfast free for them to take,
The needs of every single one – are blessed by God through morning sun,
Like panes of stained-glass windows glow – He’s everywhere that life does grow,
His breath revives, restores and lives – His bounty for His creatures gives,
And when that final breath I take – a brand-new life with Him He’ll make.
Paul was well acquainted with fishing. His family owned a summer home on a Wisconsin lake and fishing was a requirement. When I think of fishing, my thoughts turn to baiting a hook with a fresh, juicy earthworm. That alone was enough to deter me from enjoying the fun of landing a huge bottom feeder with an ugly face. The detailed drawings of fishing lures would seem a lot easier solution to ever having to handle said worm. This collection shows some of the contents of his dad’s bait box
The old proverb, “Give a man a fish and you feed him for a day. Teach a man to fish and you feed him for a lifetime,” makes a lot of sense. When we become so reliant on someone or something to pay our way, or give us a free education, or provide for daycare, or protect our environment, or approve abortion, or eliminate racism – sexual identity – we’re becomIng enslaved to the very source providing all of those goodies. We are beholding to them.
Here are few variants to that proverb:
“Give a man a fish and you feed him for a day. Give a man a poisoned fish and you feed him for a lifetime.”
“Don’t give him a fish and you feed yourself. He’s a grown man and should be able to figure it out for himself.”
“Teach him to fish and he’ll need graphite fishing rods, tackle box, fishing line, expensive reels, lures, tackle box, silly hat and vest, minnows, fishing boat with motor, a trailer to carry the boat, lots of vacation time, beer and no wife.”
All kidding aside, are we really better off having our government involved in every area of our lives? Nothing comes without a price tag. We are each responsible for our own lives, but we’re also asked to care for our neighbors and rightly so. We don’t do that nearly enough. In fact most of us don’t even know our neighbor’s name. Our isolation began a long time before the pandemic, when people began expecting the government to do what we don’t want to do.
If we really care about the poor, or those being oppressed, or those without specific skills, we help them to learn how to make a living, provide jobs, financially help them, encourage them that they have a future, reinforce their value and love them. Don’t enslave them to powers that be. We can all be thankful for that possibility.
Some of Jesus’ followers were fishermen and He asked all of them to fish for men. That means WE’RE obliged to cast our nets for those who need the Greatest Fisher of Men ever.
Imagine waking up to this view. Paul preferred painting on location – maybe because of his past career in advertising. Those were the days of true imaginative creativity, when they would shoot photos in natural settings like the one in this painting. The onset of computer technology led to the Internet and there was no longer a need for these destinations. They could rely on photos that were already taken and stored. I guess that’s why Paul chose to change his career path. He became a fine artist, crafting wood into beautiful creations for lake homes and businesses. Eventually, he started to plein air paint, because it allowed him to be in the natural settings that he loved. Our lives are subject to change and growing older doesn’t mean we can’t still be creative in our choices.
Within the mountain’s early dawn, His majesty is seen,
The skies fill up with brilliance, and glorious golden sheen,
His breath is seen in morning mist, His voice through eagles’ song,
His power displays in sunlit rays, He shines the whole day long,
His love for us unspoken, but seen in every rock,
He leads us like a shepherd protects his wandering flock,
I am so weak and fragile, like many a stubborn sheep,
My trust oft wanes, my fears o’er take, I toss through dream filled sleep,
My tears won’t stop, my faith grows weak, I stumble all the way,
But He’s right there, surrounding me, protecting me each day,
I’ll never grow to understand His unconditional love,
But thank Him that He grants it from His throne high up above,
My God, you are my fortress, my strength when I am weak,
You carry me through deserts, you lead me when you speak,
Through pastures green and waters clean, fulfilling every need,
You fill my heart with gratitude, my soul your Word does feed.
Paul had always been an early riser. He especially liked to paint at the dawn of a new day. The painting for today is shown in the process of being created and the finished product. You can almost see the moisture of morning in the surrounding grass.
The golden orb has returned to the morning sky today. Drops of dew cling tightly to the blades of newly grown grass and weeds. Each day starts like this for me. I wake, usually with the sun, work my way slowly to the bathroom, splash some water on my face, feel refreshed and then I look in the mirror. At least one or two new wrinkles have appeared. I guess, like the weeds that grow within the new grass so, grow those wrinkles. We grow older. Our steps are slower and more cautious. Our dreams for the future have now turned to heaven. The aging process is tough, but we manage to get through it. Some days are better than others. The sun doesn’t always shine. Dark clouds fill a heavy sky and the things we planned for don’t always happen.
Thankfully, God never changes. He is always the same. He is consistent, ever present, all knowing and so powerful, we must seem like ants to Him. Instead, He attends to each and every need we encounter. He hears each prayer. He answers on His own timeline, but always answers. He is by our side through all the adventures awaiting us. He gives us amazing gifts – like the morning mist.
You beckon me before your throne. I have no plea to give.
My sins are far too many and I don’t deserve to live,
But still you call to me. You tell me it’s all right,
You promise that you’ve carried me from darkness into light.
You gave your only Son to wash away my sin,
I don’t deserve this love that you have placed so deep within,
My soul is cleansed and free. You’ve done that with your love.
I now can look into your eyes when we meet up above.
As I reach the end of my years, I find I have a lot of good information stored up in this old decrepit mind of mine. If I don't write it all down, it may vanish and no one will have the advantage of my thoughts. This is why this blog exists. I love the Lord, Jesus with all my heart and soul. I know I'm undeserving of all He's done for me, but I also know that His love is beyond my comprehension.
I've always wanted to write. I never kept diaries, but tucked my thoughts in my head for future reference. I use them now in creating stories, plays, poetry and my blog.
I continue to learn every day. I believe the compilation of our time spent with God will have huge affect on the way we live. I know I'm a sinner and I need a Savior. I have One through Jesus, Christ.
My book, "Stages - a memoir," is about the seven stages of life from the perspective of a woman. It addresses all the things girls and women go through in life as they travel it with Jesus, and it is available on Amazon.com.
