I took a free day today . No places to run too, no things to do, no people to call, in other words My day was mine to shape to enjoy to handle anyway I desired. So I semi dressed, jeans,loose shirt, slippers, an the big bonus no bra. I had to wear pants as walking the dogs even in the back yard require them. I didn't even cook---leftovers, salad and ancient grain cherries the day's diet.
Still I did get somethings done. The South Dakota story grew by more than 500 words and Hanna also grew by 200 or so. The memoir sat untouched. It will grow hopefully in the next week. I did dishes a load of laundry and added stitches to the shetland hap shawl.I wrestled a bit with the idea of how big to make it---half or full. I got a bill from the man who fixes my rain bird control center, and here I thought he had yet to come.My sprinkler system runs around 5 AM which is probably why I had not heard it go into action. I got good news from a state agency via mail and guess what they called about the same issue. Score one for my note to them on an official notice that asked to explain what the legalese meant. My daughter"s boxer puppy is on the mend from parvo . His breeder had not vaccinated them properly. All in all more positive than negatives today.
I have to mention that I went looking for an out of print book by Kathleen Eagle. Found on alibis, it led to purchase 4 more of her books to repave my worn out copies. The success of my search was worth cost and I am going to like rereading them. I will probably write about them here. Just a word to the wise to whoever reads this.
Tomorrow is full of places to be things to do. 8-9 a trek to Buhler to hit an nest ate sale, the items are bought so it is spick up run. 10-12 Women for Kansas at the library, Lunch at Brewed Awakening will be followed by a quick trip to Artlandia and I plan on attending mass at 5. Sunday will be a free day and next week will rival or top the errands and must do's of tomorrow.
So there it is the freedom to live my life slower busy is a true blessin
Friday, August 7, 2015
Thursday, August 6, 2015
Gifts thank you Andy
I was given a gift today. Well actually several but one that means much more to me than I can even begin to describe. It was not monetary or wrapped in a box, but the joy it gave me was real and fulfilling. The gift? A coffee date with an ex-student. An hour of his day given to me and a continued involvement in his life as he goes forward with his vocation. It cost him nothing, he did not have to wrap it , he did not have to send it and yet when the hour was over my day was better and my sense of connection to life and his life in particular was enhanced.
During life gifts play an important part. As children the brightly wrapped boxes at birthdays and holidays were highly anticipated, but once obtained the importance of the contents faded. The toys were played with less and less to be replaced with the newer fad. The books were read and the clothes worn though they were never favored as a gifting the first place. Still these material things did indeed give us gift. They gifted us with the idea that we mattered and that someone cared for us. Later as we began to give gifts that we actually selected to others, the act of giving gave us the gift of service to others. We learned that our actions could and did help others as we watched them open our wrapped boxes.
Now,I savor different gifts. Yes, a package is fun ,but more important is the caring behind the box and what it may hold. The act of selection , the taking of the time to actually obtain, wrap and present the box affirms to me that someone cares about me. That is the true gift. The gift of time is a true gift. Calling someone, having coffee, sharing road trip, talking about shared interests all these are gifts of time spent with me in mind. That is true gift, is it not?
Besides time there are gifts of the spirit and that is one I received today. Andy talked to me about his steps to his vocation, about beliefs we share and the meanings they have for us. I was allowed into his life just a little bit.He made me feel that I had in some small way been part of his journey, As a teacher these moments with ex- students help to realize in the years(50+ years)of teaching,I had actually touched lives in positive ways What a gift he gave me, and I hope some day some one will give him a similar gift.
So I try to give these same gifts to others. I try to give them time by being there to share love and ,laughter pain and tears. I try to give them spirit gifts by listening to them and sharing their importance in my life. Yes I love to give the wrapped boxes but these unwrapped gifts are I believe are the most important. Thank you Andy for reminding me of the meanings of the simple word gifts.
Thursday August 6th
It is going to be run here there day. Lots of scattered "to dos" to keep in the car and occupied. A nice change from the the rather quiet week so far.
First up is a real blessing-- coffee with an ex-student. Andy is a seminarian and his life choice is not what I expected from him. Still I am convinced if he completes the process he is ideally suited for it. Creative and compassionate he has the qualities to serve a parish well.
Then a run to mail 30 t-shirts for a t-shirt quilt. It is a great way to rid my storage of shirts I no longer wear and gives me lightweight warmth in a cool house. Probably have several more that can be used---maybe pillows.
Training at college for new web learning format is next. I have signed up for for(yes,4)adjunct classes this semester, and only one is a night course. You can drop a course and a teacher but a teacher will teach.
Also I should hit the library. In my life there is a constant need for new books and the library is a wonderful feeding ground as is my Kindle.
Then I need absolutely need to write,. Beta the sheriff and Hanna the witch are pestering me to tell their stories and there is always the memoir which may never be done until I am. lol Enough of the mundane. I promise a better read next post.
First up is a real blessing-- coffee with an ex-student. Andy is a seminarian and his life choice is not what I expected from him. Still I am convinced if he completes the process he is ideally suited for it. Creative and compassionate he has the qualities to serve a parish well.
Then a run to mail 30 t-shirts for a t-shirt quilt. It is a great way to rid my storage of shirts I no longer wear and gives me lightweight warmth in a cool house. Probably have several more that can be used---maybe pillows.
Training at college for new web learning format is next. I have signed up for for(yes,4)adjunct classes this semester, and only one is a night course. You can drop a course and a teacher but a teacher will teach.
Also I should hit the library. In my life there is a constant need for new books and the library is a wonderful feeding ground as is my Kindle.
Then I need absolutely need to write,. Beta the sheriff and Hanna the witch are pestering me to tell their stories and there is always the memoir which may never be done until I am. lol Enough of the mundane. I promise a better read next post.
a post from the story teller wed august5,2015
Working on memoir the other day I realized that I can recall the floor plan of every house I have lived in since the age of five with surprising detail. This fact stopped the progress of my writing, as I was awed with the knowledge that was even possible. Houses are tied in with memories so they should impress us but there have been many houses in my life and not a one is absent.
After living in the Lincoln hotel for nearly a year, may parents bought our first Nebraska home. The address is gone but the house remains—a small two bedroom brick house which in a house poor market was a real buy. It was in this house that my mother used to tease me with stories from her moonstone ring. Sitting on the sofa she would gaze into the oval moonstone surrounded by deeper blue stones and spin stories as I snuggled near her. Perhaps my fascination with tale telling began with those sessions.
The next house was a grey pink house on J Street. It was rather dark though I do not know why. The door opened to living room with a kitchen to the right. There were three bedrooms and bathroom with green and black tile. The basement must have been finished as Mom rented it out to Gene McKay from her hometown. Memories from this house abound. Mom standing for a picture in a crop top and slacks is one and I still have the photo. Cousin Patty visiting from Ohio going bathroom in the yard as any farm-raised girl would, but the house was on the main drag so she got into trouble. But mostly the cool bedroom where I read as much as I could especially during a rough session of chicken pox.
Several years later after a brief residence in a in between house, there was another J street house about four blocks from the first. This was larger and created in me a love natural light in a house. Two floors to ceiling windows dominated the main living area one was in the front room and the other in a direct line from it in the dining room in the rear. These two rooms were large and four steps down from the rest of the house. Once again Mom rented the basement out. This is the house where Dad brought home a convertible, I watched a neighbor’s son eat the black bag worms form the trees, a possum crossing in front of the window scared my mom who thought it was a huge rat, and Mom allowed me to have a dog outside. Another memory is definitely one from era. Besides the large front window in the living room, there was one on the side of the room, which looked out to a small cement patio, which boasted a small brick wall or seat. It was there the neighborhood children would sit and watch our television through the window. Until Mom would invite them in.
Other houses, other impressions allow me to walk through the rooms once more and each house brings memories. The house in Lincoln with a built in bar and bedrooms so small a bed barely fit in them, the farm house in Missouri with a floor furnace at the base the stairs which never quite heated my upstairs room, the house in Kearney with a screened in porch that we slept in on hot winter nights (Mom yelled at Dad one night for his bright light but it wasn’t Dad but a power man on our light pole.), and several others. Each House calls up memories and I have found a fertile field to work through for my story,
After living in the Lincoln hotel for nearly a year, may parents bought our first Nebraska home. The address is gone but the house remains—a small two bedroom brick house which in a house poor market was a real buy. It was in this house that my mother used to tease me with stories from her moonstone ring. Sitting on the sofa she would gaze into the oval moonstone surrounded by deeper blue stones and spin stories as I snuggled near her. Perhaps my fascination with tale telling began with those sessions.
The next house was a grey pink house on J Street. It was rather dark though I do not know why. The door opened to living room with a kitchen to the right. There were three bedrooms and bathroom with green and black tile. The basement must have been finished as Mom rented it out to Gene McKay from her hometown. Memories from this house abound. Mom standing for a picture in a crop top and slacks is one and I still have the photo. Cousin Patty visiting from Ohio going bathroom in the yard as any farm-raised girl would, but the house was on the main drag so she got into trouble. But mostly the cool bedroom where I read as much as I could especially during a rough session of chicken pox.
Several years later after a brief residence in a in between house, there was another J street house about four blocks from the first. This was larger and created in me a love natural light in a house. Two floors to ceiling windows dominated the main living area one was in the front room and the other in a direct line from it in the dining room in the rear. These two rooms were large and four steps down from the rest of the house. Once again Mom rented the basement out. This is the house where Dad brought home a convertible, I watched a neighbor’s son eat the black bag worms form the trees, a possum crossing in front of the window scared my mom who thought it was a huge rat, and Mom allowed me to have a dog outside. Another memory is definitely one from era. Besides the large front window in the living room, there was one on the side of the room, which looked out to a small cement patio, which boasted a small brick wall or seat. It was there the neighborhood children would sit and watch our television through the window. Until Mom would invite them in.
Other houses, other impressions allow me to walk through the rooms once more and each house brings memories. The house in Lincoln with a built in bar and bedrooms so small a bed barely fit in them, the farm house in Missouri with a floor furnace at the base the stairs which never quite heated my upstairs room, the house in Kearney with a screened in porch that we slept in on hot winter nights (Mom yelled at Dad one night for his bright light but it wasn’t Dad but a power man on our light pole.), and several others. Each House calls up memories and I have found a fertile field to work through for my story,
Tuesday, August 4, 2015
In the Garden Lone
" I come to the garden alone, while the dew is still on the roses, and the voice I hear...falling on my ear...the Son of God discloses....AND he walks with me and he talks with me and tells me I am his own, and the joy we share as we tarry there, none other has ever known"
Hymn written by C Austin Miles , 1913.
A friend posted these lines on Facebook today and reading them zapped me mentally back to the place where I found my definition of faith. It was in a church ,of course ,but of a type few people have had the blessing to attend. Yet it was here I came to find a basis for faith in my life.
A white clapboard building with no steeple stood alone in the field at the mile crossroads near our Missouri farm. It was not Methodist, Baptist, Lutheran or any established religion; instead it welcomed a congregation of all these sects. the members were the the ten or twenty families that lived in the four mile square of the church's setting. Women came in good dresses but not Dress up dresses; men came in slacks and even engineer striped bib overalls. They came every Sunday though our circuit rider preacher only came bi- weekly.The empty pulpit Sunday was Sunday school for all ages.People came because it was a community gathering place and more important where the New Testament love thy neighbor was more than just words.
If a member was late due to a difficult calving the men went to help and services waited. If a member had a problem at harvest or planting, the men were there to help with it. A new baby or a death signaled an onslaught of casseroles, help cleaning or whatever else was needed to ease the problem. Children giggled, ran in the church yard, and learned by the example set by their parents. It was good place to see christianity in action without judgment for the most part or perhaps as pre-teen I did not look deeply enough to see it. My father not a church goer during our city days attended here and that with everything else made it a special place.
Hymns were a part of every Sunday. Everyone sang and sang loudly lead by a slightly out of tune upright. Even the tone deaf of which I was one sang with gusto. Two hymns still float through my mind. The first at the moment nameless contained the words "some one far from harbor you may lead to shore." Simple words but what a dictate to a believer. Your light or rather your actions impress others and affect them.Show caring and acceptance and people blossom. That clapboard wood stove heated country church followed that dictate,and all who walked through the door were welcome.
But the one that affected me the most is quoted above. Alone away from the distractions of life one can feel the soul open to the spirit. As a Missouri preteen that meant going to my room and while not exactly praying fervently,I was able to think through the events of my day and sort it out in a way that pleased me , my parents and my blossoming idea of faith. I came to believe that faith was not a matter of set prayers from a book but an inner recognition of something guiding life,all life. Of course, it was not fully formed and in truth perhaps is not done yet.
Now as an adult I have gone through health issues, a divorce, family stress, and work stress. Not easy and in reality not one of us can say we have not had such issues. We are all alone when these things attack us. They can pull us all the way down, or we can grow from them. When one hits me, I mentally open the door to that garden, meditate undistracted by life for just a few minutes, and my faith fills me with the belief that He is there with me. The joy comes.
My faith sustains me and allows me to be less centered on my needs and more on the people who need me. Like the men and women of that simple church, my faith leads me to join others to help others when the need is there. Thanks may never come, but the action of doing something as simple as picking up groceries, having coffee with an open ear and a silent mouth, or any other task enriches me in a way I can not explain. But the results gives me joy and the garden in my soul grows bigger.
Hymn written by C Austin Miles , 1913.
A friend posted these lines on Facebook today and reading them zapped me mentally back to the place where I found my definition of faith. It was in a church ,of course ,but of a type few people have had the blessing to attend. Yet it was here I came to find a basis for faith in my life.
A white clapboard building with no steeple stood alone in the field at the mile crossroads near our Missouri farm. It was not Methodist, Baptist, Lutheran or any established religion; instead it welcomed a congregation of all these sects. the members were the the ten or twenty families that lived in the four mile square of the church's setting. Women came in good dresses but not Dress up dresses; men came in slacks and even engineer striped bib overalls. They came every Sunday though our circuit rider preacher only came bi- weekly.The empty pulpit Sunday was Sunday school for all ages.People came because it was a community gathering place and more important where the New Testament love thy neighbor was more than just words.
If a member was late due to a difficult calving the men went to help and services waited. If a member had a problem at harvest or planting, the men were there to help with it. A new baby or a death signaled an onslaught of casseroles, help cleaning or whatever else was needed to ease the problem. Children giggled, ran in the church yard, and learned by the example set by their parents. It was good place to see christianity in action without judgment for the most part or perhaps as pre-teen I did not look deeply enough to see it. My father not a church goer during our city days attended here and that with everything else made it a special place.
Hymns were a part of every Sunday. Everyone sang and sang loudly lead by a slightly out of tune upright. Even the tone deaf of which I was one sang with gusto. Two hymns still float through my mind. The first at the moment nameless contained the words "some one far from harbor you may lead to shore." Simple words but what a dictate to a believer. Your light or rather your actions impress others and affect them.Show caring and acceptance and people blossom. That clapboard wood stove heated country church followed that dictate,and all who walked through the door were welcome.
But the one that affected me the most is quoted above. Alone away from the distractions of life one can feel the soul open to the spirit. As a Missouri preteen that meant going to my room and while not exactly praying fervently,I was able to think through the events of my day and sort it out in a way that pleased me , my parents and my blossoming idea of faith. I came to believe that faith was not a matter of set prayers from a book but an inner recognition of something guiding life,all life. Of course, it was not fully formed and in truth perhaps is not done yet.
Now as an adult I have gone through health issues, a divorce, family stress, and work stress. Not easy and in reality not one of us can say we have not had such issues. We are all alone when these things attack us. They can pull us all the way down, or we can grow from them. When one hits me, I mentally open the door to that garden, meditate undistracted by life for just a few minutes, and my faith fills me with the belief that He is there with me. The joy comes.
My faith sustains me and allows me to be less centered on my needs and more on the people who need me. Like the men and women of that simple church, my faith leads me to join others to help others when the need is there. Thanks may never come, but the action of doing something as simple as picking up groceries, having coffee with an open ear and a silent mouth, or any other task enriches me in a way I can not explain. But the results gives me joy and the garden in my soul grows bigger.
Monday, August 3, 2015
Monday morning and what have I done. Not much but to be honest I have been only be awake less than an hour. A 7AM awakening is rare for me. Still I have ,lets see, unloaded and loaded dishwasher, fed dogs and walked them, wrote to the principals of a district I have registered to sub at and wondering if I should do so for the other districts, and am now writing a brief post.
Plans for today---clean the kitchen area, prepare t-shirts to send to repeat, write, knit. All these are indoors out of the heat events and if I go out today , what will I do. A quick grocery run would be on the docket and also a trip to buy weed killer as the earlier one has made no progress in treating the infestation in my back yard. A library trip is needed also this week.
Such mundane things, fill each of our lives Yours probably is very much like mine. This year I no longer have a Monday to Friday run to work. Though I have registered as a sub I will determine when I work if I am asked to work. Pals who do this say I will be surprised at the amount of work that will be offered. I hope some does as I am a person who lies to be busy and who gets more done when I am busy. Still I am working with two groups to bring moderation to politics in my state. Neither are party affiliated groups. Instead they want voters to vote, and to votes with a sound knowledge of the choices all the candidates support. I expect to do more with these.
Still much more to be said about those ideas but the dogs are settled and snoring so time to shower and clean the kitchen.
Writing follows that and the other projects listed above that. What is your August Monday shaping up to be?
Plans for today---clean the kitchen area, prepare t-shirts to send to repeat, write, knit. All these are indoors out of the heat events and if I go out today , what will I do. A quick grocery run would be on the docket and also a trip to buy weed killer as the earlier one has made no progress in treating the infestation in my back yard. A library trip is needed also this week.
Such mundane things, fill each of our lives Yours probably is very much like mine. This year I no longer have a Monday to Friday run to work. Though I have registered as a sub I will determine when I work if I am asked to work. Pals who do this say I will be surprised at the amount of work that will be offered. I hope some does as I am a person who lies to be busy and who gets more done when I am busy. Still I am working with two groups to bring moderation to politics in my state. Neither are party affiliated groups. Instead they want voters to vote, and to votes with a sound knowledge of the choices all the candidates support. I expect to do more with these.
Still much more to be said about those ideas but the dogs are settled and snoring so time to shower and clean the kitchen.
Writing follows that and the other projects listed above that. What is your August Monday shaping up to be?
Sunday, August 2, 2015
New August
August already and it is a new August for me. I am not doing the preschool tasks that a classroom teacher does. I no longer have a classroom. It is a change, and I am adjusting. No more wondering how roads are on winter days as I can now choose not to go out. No more professional envelopment meetings. No more odd schedules to adjust my classroom plans so the lesson can still be taught. There are many "no mores", and I am adjusting.
Of course, it means less income but I should have enough to survive. I have also put in for subbing at several schools and pals who sub tell me I will be as busy as I want to be. I hope so. Also will have some college classes, but they have to make so they are always iffy. But I have adjusted my insurances etc. This,too, will be an adjustment but happily it should lower income taxes. ( though house taxes will be going up but less said about that the better to avoid apolitical rant.)
On the other hand I have more time to do what I want to when I want to do it. I can read all day, go to the library for research, knit, take part in Hutch Rec events. Time to fill is a real treat. I may have to schedule cleaning etc as I tend to wallow in the fun things of life. Give me a book or a project and dusting and sweeping recede in importance.
So the next few weeks require me to meet principals in the Nickerson district, get trained in Learning Zone then new web learning format for the college,attending Gale Walls Studio opening, go to Women for Kansas and work an event at Strataca. Also will apply for part time work as I detest not being busy.
So the august of many changes has come. It will interesting to see how the changes affect me. Keep reading.
Of course, it means less income but I should have enough to survive. I have also put in for subbing at several schools and pals who sub tell me I will be as busy as I want to be. I hope so. Also will have some college classes, but they have to make so they are always iffy. But I have adjusted my insurances etc. This,too, will be an adjustment but happily it should lower income taxes. ( though house taxes will be going up but less said about that the better to avoid apolitical rant.)
On the other hand I have more time to do what I want to when I want to do it. I can read all day, go to the library for research, knit, take part in Hutch Rec events. Time to fill is a real treat. I may have to schedule cleaning etc as I tend to wallow in the fun things of life. Give me a book or a project and dusting and sweeping recede in importance.
So the next few weeks require me to meet principals in the Nickerson district, get trained in Learning Zone then new web learning format for the college,attending Gale Walls Studio opening, go to Women for Kansas and work an event at Strataca. Also will apply for part time work as I detest not being busy.
So the august of many changes has come. It will interesting to see how the changes affect me. Keep reading.
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