Saturday, December 26, 2009

CHRISTMAS is past

Here we are a day after the day commemorating the most wonderful day ever known--the day our Savior was born. I always break out in some song when I say this. Today it is SWEET LITTLE JESUS BOY... but my hand pain is so great I cannot type all the words I sing. As I told you in my last post I had surgery on my right hand on Wednesday, on the 23 rd, and it is in a cast from second joint of my fingers almost to the elbow. I cannot use it at all. My left hand has the same problem as my right and the next surgery will be on it. However, while I was under anesthesia the surgeon injected my thumb because I have mega pain there. Guess which hand is so painful I'd like to gently remove it? Yep, you guessed it! I'm typing with one finger because it is the only pain free digit I have. I wanted to tell you all what a joy filled Christmas this was. Great food thanks to my wonder of wonders Bette. Great care of our 4 dogs by husband, Jim, and many emails from wonderful friends, and, as ever, God in the midst of it all.


It is hard to use the mouse with my left index finger, hard to do any chores I normally do. And I think over and of my biological father whose arms and hands were torn from his body. For 51 years he lived coping without them. I dare not complain.


My heavenly Father also is handicapped. You see, if he has a task to perform he never does it himself. He uses us--we are his body, his hands, his feet, his mouth. Anything he needs to have done, he chooses just the right person to accomplish it for him. Some tasks he assigns to individuals, and he provides everything needed for them to accomplish that one task perfectly--money, energy, knowledge,buildings, supplies--EVERYTHING. But he is handicapped by US. We balk, we squawk, we complain until he wears us down to perform that task! Oh how much easier it would be if we just got our "orders" and said "yes, Lord" withot worrying over the details.


There is one task we can all perform for him. Indeed he requires it of us. He wants us to just be ourselves, be friendly to all, and when he opens a tiny door in the heart and mind of those we meet he wants us to tell them of all he has done for us.


Now my index finger is growing very tired, but before I give you back this day there is a great verse, I think it is part of a song. I know so many hundreds of songs in total or part, but seldom remember from when or where they came. I do believe a large number were taught to me in that old porch swing by my other father who also had to use the hands of others. The verse I am thinking of:


"He has no hands but our hands

to do His work today.

He has no feet but our feet

to lead men in His way.

He has no voice but our voice

to tell men how he died.

He has no help but our help

to lead them to His side.


I LOVE to have that little door opened when I meet someone new, or when I talk to an old friend, because I love to talk of Jesus, and I love to discuss His word, and I love to find the answers to questions they might ask, because,after all


Happiness is to Know



Tuesday, December 22, 2009

No Hands At All

This will be my last post for a little while--maybe. Tomorrow I must be at the hospital at 6 a.m. for surgery on my right hand. Carpal tunnel is what they are correcting. Can't do much for the arthritis that bends my fingers in awkward positions. But who knows, perhaps I can hunt and peck the keys with my left hand.

I know I shall think a great deal about my father during these next weeks. You see, my father had no hands at all. Acutally he didn't even have an entire arm. Before he ever met my mom he was a brakeman for the railroad. Brakemen of old (perhaps today too?) were so agile and could walk along the box cars on the top, jumping from car to car. That's where my dad lost his arms. He fell in between the box cars while jumping and while he did not die, his arms lay across the tracks and his right arm was severed at the shoulder and left arm at the elbow. He was 21 years old, handsome, unmarried and talented in many things and suddenly he was "handicapped". A cripple.

They didn't have the wonderful prosthesis they have today, but they offered him a hook. He refused. What a devasting blow it must have been to him to suddenly have to depend on everyone else. He came from a big family, but he was very independent and he learned on his own how to get along.

As a child I didn't think of how hard things were for him. He was just my dad. When I am unable to write with my left hand or key at the computer in the normal two hand fashion for the duration of healing from carpal tunnel surgery, I will remember watching him write a letter--pencil held in his teeth. And I shall realize all the more how able he was. He could not tie his shoes. When I put my shoes on I know I will better understand how difficult things were for him and wish I had helped him more. I still remember his shoes, always with strings removed, no way to close them, so he walked with open, rather flopping shoes. And he never wore socks because he could not put them on.

I cannot tie my shoes either. The many back surgeries have left me unable to bend that far or lift my leg high enough. And I cannot wear socks either, as I am unable to put them on. But, my dear friend, Bette, has often put my socks on my feet and tied my shoes. He never had that luxury. He never asked and I don't remember anyone ever offering. But, I didn't think about it. I was a kid, he was my dad and that's just the way life was.

He also loved sugar and cream in his coffee when anyone was around to fix it for him, but he usually drank it black and cold because he could not handle a spoon. To manuever the cup to his lips he leaned over the table edge, used the stub of the left arm to steady the cup and then placed his lips on the edge and tilted his chin down until the liquid was there and he slurped his coffee in. I don't recall him ever spilling it.

And he could drive a car. Amazingly he could drive a car. Gear shifts were on the floor, no automatic transmissions, no electronic turn signals. What a juggling act it was. He could steer with the stub of his left arm, and what a shock it must have been to drivers behind him when he prepared to turn, signaling such by sticking that stub out the window. He would use his knee at that moment pressed firmly under the steering wheel to keep the car in the proper lane. The juggling really began as he started into the turn, took the left stub from the window and reached clear across his body to the gear shift on the floor and deftly and quickly shifted down and I can't even recall how he steered to make the car turn at that time. Kids don't wonder...he was my dad, that's just the way it was done.

There was only one thing he asked help for: someone to shave him. For some reason I was the one he chose out of 5 kids at that time, later there would be a 6th. When I was 8 or 9 he began to have me shave him. He would say, "Joyce you shave me better than anyone else, can you shave me today." I thought that was great fun then. I was a barber and I did shave him carefully, glowing under his praise of my barber skills. Never once did I ever think about how he bathed himself, how he cared for personal hygiene while using the bathroom. I was a kid, and he was my dad. And that's just the way it was.

He taught me to sing. We often would sit outside in the old porch swing and he would teach me new songs. And he would take me to the city where I would sing on the radio. He was so proud of me. During the war they realized my dad could do things...he was made foreman at a ship yard and he would take me to sing at war bond drives at that ship yard. Yes, he was so proud of me. I can't even remember now where it was. That was so very long ago. I think I must have been 5.

As I grew older and became a teen I no longer could say he was my father and I was just a child . I didn't want to be seen with him. I was suddenly so ashamed of him. And he stopped asking me to shave him. I became embarrassed over this father who could do everything. I didn't want my friends to see him eating off his plate like a dog. That was the only way he could. I didn't want my friends to see his shoes flopping off his feet. And I didn't want them to see him writing with a pencil held in his teeth. The last time I shaved him I was 14 and I had a date. And I can remember when he asked that I was not gentle, I was angry, I was embarrassed, and I deliberately dragged the razor hard across his face, cutting him in the process. He never asked me again.

I think back to that time now and my heart aches. How can children be so cold toward someone who never asks? How could I have been so unknowing that it never dawned on me that he was different? He was my dad. And that was just the way it was.

My mom and dad divorced after 19 years of marriage and I only saw him twice after that. He was not so tall and he was not so handsome anymore and I only saw him for a few minutes. Later he died of throat cancer I heard.

And my heart ached to think of all the years I could have been so kind to him. But it was a troubled marriage and children respond in different ways and mine was to just stay out of trouble by staying out of the way and mostly not paying attention to details. And today I am so very sorry.

With Christmas only 3 days how I wish I could tell him how sorry I am. My heart aches to go back to those childish years and try to help him. I would gladly put socks on his cold feet, and tie his shoes so they would not flop. I would heat his coffee and put cream and sugar in it. And I would be so proud of his abilities. And how I would love to hear him sing. I can't even remember his voice, yet he taught me so many songs I remember even today, and he developed my love of singing. Sometimes I sing the songs he taught and I think of him and I am so sad we can't go back and do it over.

And tonight I make a Christmas wish. I pray my father is with God. I think he must be, because he was a giving man, a non complaining man, neither of which gains him a place with God. But he taught me many spirituals and hymns and so I want to believe he accepted God's free gift of salvation through Jesus, his son. I want to see him when I reach heaven. I want to hold him close. I won't cry because God's Word says there are no tears in heaven, but if I could I would because my heart wants him to know I love him and if he were here today I would do all I could to make his life so very easy, so very happy, and just as he told others so many times how proud he was of me, I would tell others how very proud I am of him and how I rejoice in the childhood years when I shaved him and watched him draw funny animals with a pencil in his mouth and sat in the swing and learned his songs and rode on the train to the city to sing on the radio. I was just a child. And he was my dad.
Happy Christmas dad. God, my Christmas wish is that you give him a hug for me and tell him I finally realize just what a remarkable man he was.

And I would urge all of you who read this post, who have a dad or mom still living to make sure you look at how difficult things may be for them and that you remember you can't go back and make it all right. Tomorrow may be the only time you have left to tell them you love them. This Christmas may be the very last Christmas on this earth for them. As you gather for that wonderful Christmas meal or open gifts under the tree, give them the best gift ever by telling them you love them so much just for being your dad and mom.

I leave you once more, hoping you realize, Happiness is to know.

Sunday, December 20, 2009

Everyday is Thanksgiving

I wish I had begun this blog before Thanksgiving, as I have so much to be thankful for, so maybe the next few days before Christmas I'll continue with things I'm thankful for.

As you read my posts you will find I have not yet filled in anything about "me", because I think as you read you will learn a lot about me and then I'll add it in the proper place. Who was that cartoon character who said: "I yam what I yam and dat's what I yam"? Well that pretty well holds true for me too. I yam what I yam. I live with my wonderful soul friend, Bette. (Pronounced Betty, not Bet). She and my husband Jim,and I have lived together for just about 25 years. I have been married to Jim for half a century plus. And yes, that's as long as it sounds. We willingly share our home with three Miniature Pinschers and one Manchester Terrier; all but one rescued from unhappy lives. They are Alexander the Big (Alex), Radar, Penne, and the new Manchester, Arielle

Today is a happy day! Days that start happy are so very wonderful because they usually end up happy. For me it began by building a fire in the firepit on the deck early. It was a bit too cold to sit on the deck, but our living room is on the back of house facing the deck, with big sliding glass doors. So for us to sit inside watching a fire is almost as wonderful as sitting outside by the fire. So we sat inside sipping coffee and had an unusual breakfast which is very common in this household--hotdogs, fresh baked bread dripping with melting butter, hard boiled eggs, steaming hot coffee and a wonderful fire with the dogs gathered round just waiting for us to maybe drop a crumb. God, Bette, dogs and fire--wonderful. Jim always sleeps late so he misses most of the best times.

When the morning isn't rushed through it's like time slows down and a warmth within begins fueled by hot coffee, laughing at the dogs' antics and looking at all the fall flowers and plants still on the deck; golds, browns, and touches of pink and red still remaininig in the flower beds as zinnas and impatiens valiantly try to keep blooming, and here and there wonderful red leaves in the trees trying to hold on a while longer. Yes, this was a very happy beginning that lasted until noon!

Mornings like this give plenty of time to ponder many things. How can Thanksgiving be past, Christmas just days away. How did 2009 arrive and vanish in a blink. Life is whizzing by so quickly and I am on the tail end of the whip-- just like the childhood game of crack-the-whip, and soon I shall go flying of into the heavenlies. Do childen still play that game?

I certainly do not mind heading to heaven because I know the way. And sometimes I almost long for it. Growing old for me has been very painful. I certainly never minded growing old, but somehow pain has become so mingled with the aging process with every day just little more pain ahead sometimes it is hard to want to face it. My friends call me the bionic woman as I have 4 sets of hardware and 8 screws in my back. I've got a neurostimulator implanted in my spine from my shoulder blades down to the end of my tail bone and I have a battery implanted into my left buttock--and I have a remote control to turn me on, which always gets a laugh from new folks who discover that, and I have had a knee replacement, and am a two year survivor of breast cancer after 4 surgeries. So I am well acquainted with pain.

Yes, I do believe God could make it go away. But that is not his way (although sometimes he does). I came to grips long ago with the fact that God allows life with our teens to reach such a time of stress for both us and our children because if everything was always perfect they certainly would never want to leave home and start a family or profession or travel of their own. So life gets uncomfortable and for some downright unbearable and the children move on and we move on, until someday when their own life becomes unbearable they begin to understand, particularly those that have children of their own.

And I also believe that God allows the same for old people who love him. If my life were this wonderful(and it is) and pain free I would never, ever want to leave my wonderful soul friend, and our great dogs, and even though I seldom see them I would long to stay to see my grandchildren grown and even have grandchildren, and I would long to be here long enough for my son to understand about the anguish of teen years and sorrow of parenthood, (yep, I'd love to see that--"payback") oh, yes, Jim, I'd miss you too. And my wonderful garden of flowers, especially my pink garden, and the dozens of potted plants on the deck and in the yard. but I am ready to leave this pain behind.

Are there flowers in heaven, trees? I hope so. I'm a Seed Saver (genuine card carrying one), so maybe I'll have Bette tuck some seeds in my pocket when I go,so I can sow a few here and there among the clouds and plant a garden if God approves. From what I understand we will be eating fruit off those trees he tells us about in his Word.

I do know one thing. I will be totally pain free for the rest of whatever and however long eternity really is. New body! How wonderful! No pain! How wonderful!
God. How awesome! Part of the family. Amazing! Joint heirs with Jesus. My big brother!

On this happy day for which I am thankful, I close with a Chinese Proverb I picked up somewhere:
IF YOU WOULD BE HAPPY FOR A WEEK, TAKE A WIFE,
IF YOU WOULD BE HAPPY FOR A MONTH, KILL YOUR PIG,
BUT IF YOU WOULD BE HAPPY ALL YOUR LIFE--PLANT A GARDEN.

Yes, Happiness is to know

Friday, December 18, 2009

These are a few of my favorite things

I have many favorite things, but not all of them inspire me.
Green trees are special as you already know, but I am so inspired by
SWAYING TREES
To lie on the ground under tall pine trees
and watch them sway to a hidden breeze
wondering if God is near-- breathing in and out majestically;
or could it be the breath
of a million angels in chorus
proclaiming God's glory of creation?
I stand,
I sway,
And my heart sings as I join in nature's choreographed dance of the trees.
Other things that inspire me?
SUNSETS
To see the sun begin to spread like water colors flowing across a wet page is mesmerizing; so engrossing one could sit and stare forever entranced by God's artistry across an infinite canvas of blue.
Yes, sunsets are so powerful to me because I feel God's creative spirit as he paints and I am inspired to create as well.
WARM BREEZES
so gently touching my skin like a lover's caress sending chills down my spine
WINDS BLOWING
with power to effortly lift even me if they chose, those same winds that can gently caress
FLOWERS SWAYING
in unison, colors mix and swirl, blending yet separate, a kaleidoscope ever changing
BIRD SONG
just before dusk as they call to each other and settle in their nests with sweet muffled chirps
SUNSHINE
after a rain; the world washed and clean and great joy when it provides a double rainbow
MUSIC OF PIANO AND VIOLIN
so slow and sweet, poignant bliss bringing tears to my eyes
PRAYER WITH EYES CLOSED
blocking out all that would stop me from filling myself with God's sweet Spirit
OLD PEOPLE ALL WRINKLED AND FRAGILE
with seemingly innocent smile like a newborn baby, causing me to want to hug them gently and tell them they are loved
DISCUSSING A NEW IDEA WITH SOMEONE WHO IS ENTHUSIASTIC
matching my own passionate desire to bring a project to wonderful life
GOD'S WORD
inspires me most of all.
reading God's Word may seem routine
until you begin to feel His Spirit guiding your understanding.
that's when magic happens!
His Word comes alive, vibrant, wisdom filled and I am compelled to write of the joy, the repentance, the cleansing, the beauty and I am filled with inspiration and poetry and new songs spring forth and I must create! The magic of His presence allows me to
CAPTURE IT ON PAPER
SING IT IN MY HEART
SHOUT IT ALOUD
AND REJOICE
THAT
GOD REALLY LOVES ME
and I am filled with AWE
Because, Happiness is to know

Thursday, December 17, 2009

Green trees and God

I have always been facinated by trees ever since I heard Joyce Kilmer's poem Trees when I was in the second grade. Years ago when my husband retired we moved to a little cabin in the middle of 10 acres of virgin forest for a few years. What a total joy those years were. It is was in Florida in the sugar sand that only a four wheel drive could reach, and even then one experienced difficulty in getting through the sugar sand.

At first we visited the cabin on weekends, took our 4 Doberman Pinschers and turned them loose to run and experience wild life and freedom. My husband single handedly had fenced in that 10 acres inch by inch, so they were safe, unless confronted by a rattler. The property was full of pigmy rattlers and BIG rattlers who loved to live in the huge holes dug deeply by the equally huge turtles--what we called Gopher turtles. I never did learn their true name as everyone just called them Gopher turtles just as everyone called that powdery fine white sand "sugar sand".

After a very short time we moved from our home in the city to the one room cabin. Heaven. No partitions except for the bathroom which was really part of the one room with a wakk built across the side of the cabin for privacy. Half of that walled off section was a bathroom with shower stall and sink and commode, in which one had to be careful at night not to sit on a slimy feeling little green tree frog who also used the seat to perch upon above this strange pond he had found. When the cabin was pitch dark and one sat on a wet slimy a scream was always emitted--loudly. The other half of that partitioned off place was the closet, in which frogs were never found. But scorpions loved the boots and shoes and once even my husbands pants which is another funny story. Later.

But, I digress. Someday I'll write more on those woods and that cabin and some of the great things and sad things there. But it was trees that so inspired me of which I wanted to talk this morning.

In spring time in the early morning I would awaken and see the sun in the window. We did not put up curtains, nor did we have blinds. We were so isolated and the cabin in the middle of the 10 acres of nothing but trees and guarded by 4 Dobermans we were perfectly free to run around in the all together if we so chose. When I awoke each morning my heart just filled with joy of life. I would lay there and talk to the God I loved so and look up to the blue, blue sky through a green vision.

Greens are so green in Florida it always amazed me that if I looked off into the distance I would see green to the point that everything took on a green hue and finally it was like a veil of green. And that's when I would thank God for green, still my favorite color today from tiny green frogs of multiple hues to the evergreen 200 year old Live Oak tree that lives in my present front yard in South Carolina. God says in the Bible, in Revelation, that there is a green rainbow around his throne. Truly it does. An Emerald Rainbow he declares and I know just what he means because of my Emerald green forest and my cabin in the woods.

My husband took a downed tree (lightning was bad there for taking down trees) and nailed it high up across two pines and attached a porch swing for me there, not facing the cabin, but facing the trees. Beautiful. Total, utter beauty.

I had always journaled my thoughts, and had been a freelance writer for many years, but had rather "retired" from writing to just "live", but I still journaled. My journals were always letters to God back then. So I would sit in my swing and sing hymns I loved to the top of my lungs and become so in love with God's creation I would begin to journal --good things, sad things, happy things, bad things. God heard everyone of them and he always laughed with me, cried with me, rejoiced with me and sang with me. I knew this to the bottom of my always bare toes.

Once when I was most distressed with my husband, which was often, I refused to stay in the cabin. Now when you live in a one room cabin there is nowhere to go except the cabin. One part was set up as a kitchen, and beside it the dining area and in front of that the living room with couch and chair and an in the wall a TV I'll write about sometime and in the middle of the cabin was our big, black Ben Franklin wood stove which was used to heat the cabin. And beside the living room on the front of the cabin was our double bed, night stands, facing the TV if we care to turn it on. And all around on every side, front and back of the 24 x 24 foot cabin were windows. It was like living in the forest. Trees actually touched the cabin right outside the bedroom, huge, tall pines. Not the sickly pines we often think of, but huge, tall to the sky pines.
Again, I digress. I was upset with my husband and so I went outside and sat in my swing and cried and had a wonderful pity party, imagining myself dressed in silky, billowing blue lying across a snow white bed so high my body was sinking down into the soft fluffiness almost like clouds and as I lay there weeping, one arm outstretched dramatically and the other palm up limply across my forehead, and one leg casually tucked up behind the other and my chin thrown out and up and my head aside, I just knew I looked so elegant and beautiful, and I imagined my husband coming out to find me dying...weak little huffy coughs as only a dying beauty can emit, with my last breath gasping, "See what you did to me? Goodbye. I hope you are very lonely without me..."

Oh, I was so enjoying that pity party until God began to laugh-loudly! I could hear him and as I opened my dying eyes the most beautiful, huge butterfly I have ever seen came wafting like the Lunesta moth we now see on TV, gently, fragile wings waving gracefully, it's beautiful colors seeming to evaporate into the green glow of the forest and back again in front of my eyes. I sat up and actually fell from my swing in my scramble to see it closely and I lay there on the ground looking up at blue sky, golden butterfly, and green, green, green tree tops everywhere, and my tears turned to rejoicing as I knew this was God sending his gift to cheer me up so I would laugh with him. And I did. I laughed at the butterfly, I laughed at me and I laughed at God and ran into the cabin and gave my startled husband a big passionate kiss and even thought he didn't know why we were laughing he joined in the laughing too and I ran to the fridge and poured some of the fresh lemonade I had made earlier and we snuggled in our double bed and watched the trees and drank our lemonade. And life was good, and I felt good and I knew my husband was really my prince charming at this moment, and I knew God is always good and the best part of it all was I stopped crying long enough to join God in laughing at myself and realizing as ever,
Happiness is to know...

Wednesday, December 16, 2009

In the beginning

Everyone and everything has to begin somewhere. I have wanted to set up a blog for a long time, but being not too computer literate (although I work on one) the desire to blog never could overcome my fear of new things. I think everyone is afraid of new things. A wonderful friend of mine who knows my "fears" once sent me a card with a beautiful watercolor butterfly on it. The card simply said, "Everyone is afraid of change". I framed it. It hangs in my bathroom where I can see it each day. It has been hanging in my bathroom for over 20 years now. I am still uncomfortable with change, but it helps to know others are too.

I truly don't have a clue how to proceed from this first post to the next step, and it took me two days after I "created" the blog to write this little bit. But I will continue, and I will get there, and I hope to have others join me and read of many things--a dibble of this, a dabble of that, like a recipe, a little of some things, a lot of other things --more or less. When you have lived as long as I have you have much to remember, much to talk about, and the surprising thing is the vast number of subjects you have become familiar with.
But for now I must cease with the beginning of my blog and step into my day for real.

Always learning,
Happiness is to Know