the tones of life

I never realized what a treasure this one little gift has been from my childhood home after my parents passed away. It sings a familiar tune as the metal tubes sway and tap merrily in the breeze. It lifts me up and takes me to a gentle time and place.

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This thought expresses the blessed tone of my parents’ life music they sang to us.

Let our words be like wind chimes.

Tone is something we hear like wind chimes blowing in the air. What sounds do our words make…? Communication is more than what we say; it is how we say it and how we sound. As much as possible, without forfeiting what we have to say, let our words be music to people’s ears.

Melody Beattie

 

Creating a Ripple

Racking my brain…

My family is at the stage now,

of counting my sweet mother’s breaths…

But I live so far away I could be in mars. At least it feels like it!

I want to be with her for all the last breaths and hold her hand.

She has given me so much, I don’t want her to go.

My mother turns 89 the beginning of Oct.

I want to celebrate her life while she is still with us.

HOW?

Then, I received an angel whisper.

An idea…create a ripple.

Every day for the month of September

leading up to her birthday on Oct. 1st

I am sending

all of her posterity

and brothers and sisters

a Fun Fact about her.

There are over 100 of us.

Everyone has LOVED it! 

Including my mother!

It allows me to do something for her

here on Mars.

It has allowed everyone to know facts about her

they never knew or remember back.

It has created a beautiful ripple

of her life which not only

encircles around her

but

encircles out

to all of us.

Here is a peek:

Grandma trusts all people!

At Ruth and Wade’s wedding reception Ruth told all of Wade’s friends where they were going to spend their wedding night, up in a little cabin in the canyons. That was a mistake! It was common in those days for friends to do a sneak attack on the new couple and knock on windows and yell silly comments. But Wade must have had a good friend who tipped him off. Wade got the last laugh when instead of going to the little cabin, he quickly changed the plans and went to his brother, Keith’s apartment. All his friends went to the canyons…but they weren’t there. Ruth wondered why they didn’t go to the canyons like they planned…

You can still have fun at the end of life….

Come on over…

My dear friends and followers,

I am taking this full virtual-space (Cancer Together; What do I do now?) and add it to my other blog-bowl;

 Have Fun With It

to create a big messy gooey life recipe.

I offer you a spoon and hope you will dip in and take some tastes.

I am excited to also introduce to you a new blog on my passion; Preserving that mysterious and wonderful time called “childhood.” Please take a peek and send others.

 Only One Childhood

This space will stay open offering my hand and heart as a continuous life preserver holding to you as you return back to posts.

You will

find those pieces of HAPPY 

you feel you have lost

buried

under the

cancer brick load.

I understand and acknowledge YOU.

Thank you for allowing me

to hold on to you

as my life saver.

I hope you will continue on my journey and enjoy…

Have Fun With It

One little Marguerite

If you would ask me what my favorite flower is

it would be a white Marguerite daisy.

Daisy

I have never told this story to anyone before.

It was in a High School art class.

You know the elective that all your friends sign up for to have a social period.  We were to bring in a real flower as part of a project. I forgot until the day it was due so ripped a white flower from off of a bush in our backyard and brought it to school wrapped in a wet paper towel.

For the assignment we were to fold a 12 by 18 in. white construction paper in half then over to the side to open into four rectangles. We were to draw our flower in each rectangle realistically, in abstraction, in cubism, and in a unique view point.

The teacher insisted that we sit for 15 minutes and study our flower and if we goofed off we would receive detention. And then she set the white egg timer clicking the time and sat down. There were a few snide comments and some giggles but soon a hush fell over the classroom.

Have you ever taken 15 minutes and stared at one flower?

 It is a long time…

At first you look at it and your mind takes a picture and you think, okay I saw it…

And then you move in to take a closer look. It was a white Marguerite daisy, I found out later. It did not have five loopy bright colored petals with a bright yellow circle center that most of us doodle on paper and gets made into a giant sticker to stick on the rear of Volkswagen Beatles. 

Every single petal narrows to the end that attaches strong into the center then tapers out to a curve which cups just a tiny bit at the end.

Each petal has hills and valley ridges that stripe the petal which change the white to different shades.

When the petals stretch out they overlap because it is crowded.

The petals feel like silky fuzzy paper.

The inside has hundreds of little curly balls clustered together and grab to a center orb.

They appear yellow but when you look closely they are a variety of golden earth tones which also change in the light.

The flower has a green stem made of long strands of vein like fibers and at the jagged end, where it was ripped from its life source, is an opaque white center that drips fluid.

At the top underneath the white petal umbrella is a star shape cup made out of green leaves with points at the tips. This cup tucks the entire flower perfectly inside to hold it upright.

The timer went ding. The chatter resumed. The class bell eventually rang and we left. I completed the assignment in a few weeks.  I loved that picture.

I grew up with a mother who spoke to flowers and a father who spoke to animals. They did not only model reverence for earth’s gifts but to be enamored by them. 

But 15 minutes with a Marguerite daisy converted me.

I believe I finally saw God as an artist

and I have been in complete admiration ever since.

The night when everyone slept

Have you felt

alone

anger

pain

loss

desperate

defeated

deserving

nauseated

manipulated

humiliated

clumsy

stupid

judged

embarrassed

abandoned

betrayed

starved

denied

rejected

sad

sick

broken

cut

taken from

not good enough

doubtful

uneasy

stuck

deceived

destroyed

beaten

banished

burned

bitter

repentant

alone

sorrowful

 doom

despair

encumbered

tired

hurt

afflicted

undeserved

untrusted

uncomforted

terror

shock

hopeless

misunderstood

put down

not heard

diseased

darkness

misery

fallen

failure

stripped

unappreciated

disappointed

sorrow

mad

frustration

scornful

shunned

unloved

forgotten

harm

lost

imprisoned

empty

weary

oppressed

dirty

bad

unworthy

frightened

wounded

silent

like crying…

“Yes”

Jesus felt

      everything…

mid-

night,

next to

knotted roots

of

gnarled

olive trees

while

an angel

held Him,

and

cried too.

 

I am NEVER alone!

Who is your God?

sun-coming-through-clouds

Who is your God?

What is He or She like?

Do you talk to Him or Her?

A friend and I were discussing God over dinner after she had offered grace before we ate. She had grown up Catholic and felt it was easy to pray to Mary because she was comforted by Jesus’ mother. But when talking to God as a child she used to feel intimidated like he was too omnipotent to be bothered by a little dot on the earth, which was her. But since then her relationship with God has changed. The discussion began.

Who is your God?

What is He like?

Do you talk to Him?

We both believe in a similar male God that looks like a man but contains all power over the universe, and we both believe that love is the first and most powerful law of the universe.

But what came out of the discussion was the influence our dad’s played in establishing a relationship with that “Father Figure” in heaven. It had a huge impact on both of us.

When she mentioned her first impressions of the scary God, I told her that I never ever felt that way about God. I explained that the reason was because my dad was such a kind, loving, soft-hearted father to me that I carried that father figure model clear up to the heavens, beyond the clouds to my God in Heaven. According to my belief He had those same characteristics as my own dad but on a grander scale. She agreed that her father had also been a positive influence in her own life and was also what influenced her new relationship with God as she grew older.

Isn’t that interesting. Our dad’s relationship with us on earth influences how we feel about our Father in the Heavens.

That is pretty powerful and a big responsibility.

We both enjoy talking to God every single day.

And we both believe he listens to our prayers and guides our lives.

Thanks dad’s who love their children so we learn to love GOD.

(I also ask God to give hugs to my dad and mom up there, too.)

Snoring brings out my evil twin

I am so clever to write a tongue-in-cheek blog post about my grandchild and his ability to torture his parents through lack of sleep. https://jennifercalvertedwards.wordpress.com/2017/01/24/why-fight-the-battle-of-wits/

I pat myself on the back for being wise and experienced about “handling” sleep deprivation with little tots and giving silly solutions to make us laugh at something that is real.

But there is no laughing as I try to find serious solutions to my own sleep deprivation dilemma with a grown up spouse that has loud, gross, strange, and a plethora of sounds emerging from his throat every single time he sleeps…and I don’t.

When the snoring first began I was a patient, dear wife and gently tapped his little shoulder on occasion to gently nudge him to switch positions. He would and I would peacefully nod off…sometimes!

As years went by the shoulder shaking and poking began.

He would say, “What?” In that groggy sleep voice, and I would whisper through my teeth, “Stop snoring!”

No amount of pushing, nose plugging, head moving, or pillow covering can muffle the sound of snoring. It is surround-sound magnified. It is like a sonic boom that moves and shakes the windows in our house and shingles on our roof every single night.

Over the years solutions would show up. Several plastic mouth guards through catalogs that you mold in hot water. A chin thing, scammed from facebook, that was expensive and I think could also curb extra chin fat but seriously choked. (No refund) Higher pillows, a sound machine, and the hole in my ear getting larger because my finger gets deeper and deeper, but nothing easy or free ever works…

It gives me evil thoughts…no lie.

Last night I could feel the vomit welling up in my throat as I listened to a new sound when the uvula took on flem and saliva as dance partners in the back of his. He choked and squeaked moving fluids around from the back of his mouth then burst out air every 7 seconds. I know it was seven because I counted. He was in dream land and solidly sleeping. I was not!

Gees, I’ll take Pip’s opera yelling and early risings over this any day! He’s two. A man’s throat should know better for heavens sakes!

I have felt the bed lift when his diaphragm gasps in a full on snort, and have it thump down again when he blasts out air from his throat shooting the cough drop he fell asleep with on his tongue, clear across the room to hit the mirror. NO LIE!

Sometimes he squeaks air in like he is breathing through a coffee straw and then chokes and gasps, coughs a little then blows air out. (Who knows what is being hacked across the room…I block that from my mind and simply don’t look in the morning!)

He bellows air in like scraping metal boxes over a cement floor and then blasts air out over and over and over. You can honestly hear it rooms away.

He has woken himself up by his snoring and he laughs at such a rare and beautiful talent.

Oh dear God, he’s got Sleep Apnea!

Do ya think?

My poor darling must not be getting a good sound sleep each night with all that stuff going on! Poor thing.

Oh, I guarantee he’s sleeping just fine. I know I watch.

Yep…sleep deprivation is a sign of torture.

The sounds of snoring are high, oh so very high on that list!

I slept clear across the house with my pillow over my head and a seat belt on.