But I Know Her Heart!

I went to the post office this morning.

Big deal, you say! But in a whole lot of ways

this morning was a gift, and it was a big deal

to me.

The postal worker I most often see there always has a smile,

never seems to get frustrated no matter how many are in line

and has helped me find the most efficient way to send my books.

SO–this morning I decided to give her a copy of Robin.

She said, “This is  really interesting because just this weekend

I was wishing I had a good book to read.”

That led to her questions about my writing.

And that led to deeper conversation.

Long story short–we discovered we have both lost children.

And that led to sharing even deeper, and tears and a ‘knowing’

that only comes through shared experiences.

I know that our meetings from now on will be on

an entirely different level, deeper, more personal.

And she no longer will be a just the nice lady at

the post office.

Because, now she’s a kindred spirit.

I don’t even know her name, but

I know her heart!







It’s a Small, Small World!

In some ways, this is a hard post to write.

In other ways, it’s such a blessing.

It’s long, so choose now to read or not!

In the fall of 1979, we sent out oldest daughter, Tammy, off to college. Not such a big deal to some, but for us it was huge. This daughter was in a wheelchair, and had to sleep with a respirator at night to keep her CO2 level from building to the point she would quit breathing.  PLUS–the college was 1500 miles away in Portland, Oregon.

But you see, this daughter had prayed, sent feelers to different Christian colleges, and constantly reminded us that she was safer that far from home if it was God’s will for her, than to stay close to home and play it safe.

Bob and I drove those miles first. I suppose, in a way, to confirm in our own hearts that this idea was ridiculous. But God had prepared the way–and why were we so surprised? The school, known then as Multnomah School of the Bible, had at one time been a school for the blind. Thus, ramps everywhere. And because the school was approved by the VA, where there weren’t already ramps, they were being built. Add to that the fact they gave her a scholarship, and allowed for her very good friend Bonnie to accompany her. We paid room and board for Bonnie, and the school allowed her to audit all classes free of charge.

It was a great year for Tammy, perhaps one of her healthiest years after so many health crises. Tammy stayed home that next year after being promised by a doctor that the incurable neuromuscular disease that both she and her younger sister, Lori, had, may not be that at all–and there was hope and promises and more promises than never came to fruition.

I won’t go into a great lot of detail, only to relay this information. Our Lori died in 1985. She was 23 years old. And Tammy died in 1994, at age 34. Words can’t describe how much we miss them. So I won’t even try.

Fast forward to this past July, 2016:

Our youngest son and daughter-in-law and family traveled to Oregon for a family wedding. And while there attended the church of the relative they were visiting. To make an even longer story short–the pastor of this very church had also attended Multnomah School of the Bible, and remembered our Tammy. In fact, had often helped her in various ways.

There is something incredibly comforting to know your child is remembered when they are no longer on this earth. Parents don’t forget. Siblings don’t forget. Even good friends still remember. But to realize that someone from so long ago, so many miles away—plus the fact their paths never crossed again after that year—still remembers, is a balm to hearts that still miss her so very much.

Pastor Jim Jamison, I have no idea if you will ever see this, but thank you so very much for sharing the article and pictures, and most of all for sharing your heart with Tammy’s brother.









Comp’ny comin’!!

When I was growing up, Saturday was house-cleaning day, cause

Comp’ny was comin’ on Sunday!

We’d clean, and bake and kill a chicken or two

And if, by chance, we got invited somewhere else

We’d still clean, and bake and offer to take the baked goodies with us

Cause, that’s just what ya did.

Seems different now

What with all our labor saving devices

We no longer have time for such thing as

Comp’ny comin’.

Leastwise, not without planning and planning

and maybe even painting or hangin’ new curtains.

I have a picture hanging right by my chair.

You can tell it was stitched up a long time ago

Cause it tells neighbors when they are welcome!

Which is pretty much all the time.

hospitality 7c344e75-fd46-42af-bed8-e445316cd1e6

Lord, make me a woman given to hospitality.

Not just on Sunday, when I’ve cleaned and baked

and killed a chicken or two.

But anytime. Anytime you deem it proper for

My day, which is really Your day!


Allow Them To Bloom…

Where They Are Planted!!

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Whether in a crowd


wildflower for blog IMG_1518

Or alone

The bottom line is…to stay rooted.

And I do my children, or other acquaintances, a huge disservice

When I use prayer and/or persuasion

In an attempt to pluck them

Then plunk them into

A container which I deem

More appropriate than

Where their Maker has ordered.

He is, after all, God

And I am not!

Therefore, it behooves me to

pray, and allow to them


Where they are planted.


Lessons From a Dandelion

lessons from dandelion 1195_502131816476770_79024490_n

Hate it, stomp on it, try to dig it out:  It sends its roots even deeper

Mow it off: And the next morning it’s back, smiling, bringing friends to greet your day.

It has no ovaries: It merely reproduces because that’s what it was meant to do.

Always available, it welcomes the hands of a small child, knowing that even should it be plucked from its moorings, it will bring joy to that child, and a smile to the child’s mama.

And when it grows old—

AHH! When only a fuzzy white head appears where once was the bloom of youth

The winds of adversity, or even the puff of tiny lips, will scatter the seed the heart of the plant produced.

And more will come, more will bloom, more will send roots deeper and deeper

Because it was content to be what God created it to be, and do what it was created to do.

Oh! That I should be so faithful!!


dandelion seed 10430895_853489774674304_95397765268146593_n



From My Window

It’s a misty, moisty morning here in our wee cove.

The kind of morning that begs you to just sit and listen—

A gentle rain peppers our tin roof…

A wren trills for her mate…

In the distance there’s a low rumble of thunder…the remnant of an early storm.

It’s the kind of stillness one wishes they could bottle

Like a fine perfume.

And bring out later, to dab behind the ears—when one hears grumbling

Or on one’s wrist—when busyness threatens to steal the day.

Even to spray in the air—to sweeten the odor of conflict and discord.

As I write this, a cardinal is calling in the timber.

Cardinals have long been my God Speak

So I will listen

Listen , this time, to what He wants to say to me.


Teach me, Lord, to Be Still

So even when the storms rage

I will hear the sweetness of Your voice

And know that You are God!misty moisty morning 11168953_936142416409039_6173322773301740598_n


Monday Morning Musings

A dear friend sent me a message last night: “He asked me to marry him, and I said ‘yes’.” And I rejoiced for her.

Another dear friend sent me a message last night: “…he went to heaven this afternoon.” And I wept for her.

Each message shouted “change”.

For one—who was one, now needs learn to become two.

For the other—who was two, now needs learn to become one.

Both will rejoice.

Both will weep.

Both will need prayer…lots of prayer.

Oh, Lord. Cause me to be faithful to pray—

To rejoice with the one who rejoices, and weep with the one who weeps.

You have promised strength ‘as thy days’,

And grace sufficient

Help them claim both.

And may they embrace ‘change’ as a reminder of Your constancy.

You who never changes.






10 Ways to Know You Want to Write

Give even a small child a pencil, and they intuitively know what to do with it. Thus–they write!!  We are all writers.


1.  You are a reader.

2.  The stationery aisle is your favorite haunt.

3.  You like to make up stories. (not lies, just stories)

4.  You’d rather sit and watch people than shop.

5.  You have characters who talk to you, tell you what to do and when–and you listen and often talk back.

6.  You keep a file of names that you don’t share because you want to be the first to tell their story.

7.  You keep a pad of paper and a pencil by your bedside because some of the best ideas come to you at night, and you know you’ll forget by morning if you don’t write it down.

8.  You read an account of a tragedy, and want to give it a happy ending.

9.  A leaf blowing past your window gives birth to a new idea for a story.

10. You realize you march to a different drummer, and there’s no parade!





Lessons I learned as a youth are somewhat different than the lessons I continue to experience. From my youth, I think the lessons were  mostly in the negative–things I learned NOT to do again.

But in this stage of my life, things have changed a bit. I can now look back and see there are some lessons that are worth repeating. For instance:

1. IT’S OKAY TO KEEP DUST BUNNIES UNDER YOUR BED. REALLY IT IS!! I don’t recall even one instance when any of the friends our kids drug home even mentioned them…and the grands and their friends haven’t found them, either.

2. DISHES DONE WITH A TWO-YEAR-OLD IS MUCH MORE ENTERTAINING THAN A DISHWASHER. And you know what–if they’ll talk with you while doing dishes at two, guess what they will still find time to do when they are 12, or 15, or 18? Even boys!!


4.  THERE IS NO SUCH THING AS ‘NORMAL‘ BREAKFAST FOOD. Who says a child can’t have leftover pizza first thing in the morning?

5. AND OLD MATTRESS THROWN IN THE YARD IS MORE FUN THAN A TRAMPOLINE FOR A TODDLER. And much safer for the grandma who jumps with them.


7. MATCHED TOWELS ARE HIGHLY OVERRATED. Keep a set for company if it’s important to you–but I guarantee your legs don’t know, or care, what color terry cloth you dried then with, or if they clashed with the wash cloth.

8.  POPCORN IS A DELIGHTFUL SUNDAY NIGHT SUPPER. And it’s even better with lots of butter on it, a cold soda, and a movie!! (after church, of course)

9.  A DIRTY CUP LEFT IN THE SINK OVERNIGHT WILL NOT MULTIPLY. However, keep close watch on the dirty clothes hamper.  It rendezvous with the dust bunnies under the bed and multiplies faster than you can calculate.

10. LIFE IS TOO SHORT NOT TO TAKE TIME FOR THE EVERYDAY THINGS. Which brings us full circle to the negatives again. Funny how that works, But even a battery has a positive and negative end. It’s just knowing which end to put where that  makes it work.

All too often I try to plug the negative into the positive and expect my plans to work. Remind me, Lord, that unless You are my source of power, it won’t make a whit of difference which side I present to You. Without  You, there is no power and any light I put forth will quickly dim.

Out of the Fullness of the Heart

My hubby LOVES apple pie. It’s his favorite. And our oldest son has an uncanny sense to know when I have just pulled one out of the oven. He says it’s a gift..

I never use a recipe for the filling. Hubby doesn’t like a tart apple . . . actually prefers that I use a Red Delicious. But sometimes I splurge and buy Granny Smith’s.

I can usually get the crust to look inviting. Flaky, brown, lots of sugar and a sprinkle of cinnamon. But no matter how pretty it looks on the outside, it’s what’s under the crust that screams the loudest.

We ‘so very fallible people’ are like that, you know. We can manage to look pretty good on the outside . . . all shiny and sprinkled with the sugar of our good works, or kind words, etc.. But what happens when we are ‘cut and tasted”?

I have to admit that all too many times who I am on the inside would be enough to pucker you up good and tight!!

Need more sweetness? Maybe a bit of spice? Perhaps need to be ‘in the fire’ a bit longer?

I hate it when my pie filling boils over onto my clean oven. It stinks, to be quite frank . . . and leaves a residue that, unless dealt with, continues to smell each time the oven is put to the test.

If what is inside your heart spills over . . . when things are hot . . . do you smell?

“The good man brings good things out of the good stored up in him, and the evil man brings evils things out of the evil stored up in him ” Matthew 12: 35