Becoming Minimalist

Though it may seem I am very random, ("You're so random, Mom" - if I had a nickel for every time one of my kids said that...) I am actually very intentional, and I always have a back-story.  This is my back story to how we became minimalists.  It started one day while I was dusting my living-room. Dusting my living-room is a monumental task (at least it used to be), so much so I would listen to an entire Ella Fitzgerald CD or TV sermon while doing it.  This particular day I was listening to a TV sermon while dusting a memento from Yellowstone National Park.  I picked it up, dusted Old Faithful and carefully tried wiping off the surface it sat on before putting it back in place while not bumping into or knocking over the next memento that sat next to it.  And on it went, from one special memento to the next while this preacher talked about the importance of keeping the Sabbath. It's so important she said, that it's one of the commandments, the fourth actually.  Hmmm...our Sundays looked like this...(we went to a Saturday night service because this was the service opened up for the people who didn't have Sunday church clothes - not that we don't have church clothes, but it's where we felt more at home) sleep in, late breakfast, trip to the hardware store because we were either beginning a project or ending a project, early dinner, clean up from said project and one of us needing to pull out a splinter, put on a band-aid or take a pain-reliever, drop on the couch, exhausted, then to bed.  What would a Sunday Sabbath even look like?  Then we took a trip to visit our daughter and son-in-law and their Pastor gave the same sermon.  Next Saturday our Associate Pastor gave the same sermon... I asked my husband what he thought. He surmised that Pastor's have a cheat sheet, but "What do you think?" I insisted (family joke).  But before he could answer, I shouted "Let's do it!"  He's a good man and a good husband and he basically does whatever I want. So, our first Sunday Sabbath looked like this.  We  slept in, did a Bible journal entry together (so amazing so far!) he went for a breakfast sandwich at a fast food place and sat and read, I drank hot chocolate and curled up on the couch with the internet, looking at all the things I bookmarked to read later.  I read an article by Joshua Becker, which linked me to another article, which linked to another and another and another (40 articles to be exact) and finally I was halfway through "The Gentle Art of Swedish Death Cleaning: How to Free Yourself and Your Family from a Lifetime of Clutter" which I bought on my Kindle, when my husband came home. I said as he walked through the door, "How much do you love me?" to which he replied with one eyebrow raised in the air, "A lot..." to which I replied, "Good, because I want us to become minimalists." His expressions were priceless.  First confusion, then a nano second of a smile - this is where I think he thought becoming a minimalist was a sex term - then to a sad realization to which he replied, "Crap, you're going to make me clean the garage aren't you?" to which I replied, "Yes, but not today, it's the Sabbath." And thus our journey to becoming Sabbath keeping minimalists began... 

...to be continued...

Moving Mountains

I don't think I ever wrote about the daughter we lost...we didn't put her down somewhere and couldn't find her, and she didn't die; we lost her because her mom was a serious drug addict and she changed her mind about us just days before the adoption. That was a long time ago but I mention it as a prelude to tell a story about the goodness of God. Losing our daughter (hereafter "the event") was devastating, but that's not what this story is about.  After going through all the stages of grief and getting our attention back on "normal" life, God asked me to seek out our daughter's mother.  I was like, "You crazy God. She's an addict and I have no idea where to begin, plus, remember, she crushed me and my family"...but you don't say no to God for long.  Someday, not now, I'll tell the whole story after the event, how God moved a mountain there and how much we love the mom. So, I found her, but now what? Someone told me about these two people, John and Elsie Benton, that had a home, The Walter Hoving Home, in upstate New York, and they took in women addicted to drugs and told them about Jesus and they became healed from their addictions. We tried 4 times to get the mom there, but with no luck. However, we fell in love with Elsie and John, fell in love with the home, fell in love with the ladies and saw how Jesus was healing women with so many problems.  Our family became regular financial supporters of the home, we attended banquets, we sent cards of encouragement, we sent clothes and supplies, and when the ladies called for support we talked to them... I wished they were closer! We loved this ministry! Did I mention we loved the ladies! For years we supported the home, we got to know John and Elsie, we got to hear about the miracles Jesus was performing in the lives of the ladies.  Then 4 years ago Jesus did a thing.  He opened another Hoving Home 5 miles (door to door, exactly, I measured) from our house! I was their first official volunteer.  I see the ladies every week, even during the pandemic I did Zoom, and with proper guidelines I get to see them in-person.  I love on them, I teach them stuff and we do craft stuff and I tell them Jesus is real, He's got a plan, and He's moving mountains. That, my friends, is the goodness of God.

Pictured: the ladies proudly showing off rocks we painted together, one says "Faith moves mountains"

It Was A Lovely Affair

In a nutshell, to get this out of the way, since I last wrote, the boy got married, daughter #1 got married and daughter #2 moved out and has lived everywhere in the world, including the Middle East, except here. Oh, and hubby and I got married again (yup, he's married me four times), this time at the foot hills of the Italian Alps in a private ceremony where I cried the entire time. I think I scared the Officiant because I was ugly crying. He had a look of concern on his face that I naturally wanted to comfort, but every time I tried to speak wailing came out of my mouth. It was a lovely affair.

If you read any of my writings before you know I like to keep it real, you know I like to find humor in everything, you know I love Jesus, my kids, volunteering, my pets, food, and analogies. If you didn't know it, you know it now. I can't write everything all at once, though I want to, but I can't so I'll tell one story at a time.  This is my first story.  It happened exactly 7 years and 2 days ago...

...I once read a blog about a woman who longed for her kids to be close again.  She said, "If I knew that the last time I washed my daughter's hair was going to be the last time I washed my daughter's hair, I would not have rushed through it." By the time I read that it was years since my girls let me french-braid their hair. I was like, "I hear ya, sista." I would have to literally bite my tongue not to ask my girls if I could braid their hair.  When biting my tongue failed I would spill the words out of my mouth in one fast beat, "CanIbraidyourhairpleasepleasepleaseplease?" "Nope." Always, nope. But then, 7 years and 2 days ago, the unimaginable happened, daughter #1 said, "Mom, will you braid my hair?" It took me a nano second to grab a brush and start.  I remember the date exactly because it was the day she got married. Best day ever, not just the braiding her hair part (though definitely a highlight), the wedding was a lovely affair, I did ugly cry, she married her best friend and lover, my brother and his wife surprised us with their attendance (he flew in from out of state without telling me), it was in the woods at a place that holds special memories for me because we did homeschooling camps there. It was a messy braid, I had one shot to do it, I hadn't done a french-braid in years, but it was just what she wanted.  A braid across the front, hair left long across her shoulders, done, but not fussed over, "Mom, it's fine", she said with a smile. I put her pearls around her neck, let her hair fall where it may, stroked it one last time; watched her get married, move away and go on to accomplish her dream of helping children with trauma. She's still happily married to the love of her life, and every time I see her I say, "CanIbraidyourhairpleasepleasepleaseplease?" Still nope, but because of the pandemic I was able to cut her long hair about 5 months ago (I can give you the exact date but that really does make me sound creepy and pathetic) I brushed it a little longer than necessary, inhaled deeply, was told to stop being weird, and even though I bit my tongue I asked, "CanIbraidyourhairpleasepleasepleaseplease?" No, she had to get going...

...my summary is that I have no real regrets. I lived in the moment, I enjoyed mothering, I enjoyed empty nesting, I enjoyed traveling in spite of my travel anxieties, I lingered on the things that I loved, I mentally documented all the joys, it's been a lovely affair...

...to be continued...(sorry for all the ... but that's how my brain is working today ... )