You Know It’s Time to Go Home From the Hospital When…..

(It was this time last year that I left Kentucky to go to Oklahoma where my mother had just had a couple of surgeries with complications following.  I went to be with her and help out.  After awhile, I just had to write and she helped me with this one...just reliving some memories)
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My mother has been in the hospital for fourteen days. She and I have had a lot of sweet moments…holding hands, praying, singing old hymns, playing the alphabet game.  But after many days in the same room you tend to get a little crazy.  We have become hysterical with laughter amongst the pain and complications of a couple of surgeries.  My mother has relived the past two weeks with me and here is what we have decided.

You know it’s time to go home from the hospital when…

1.      you know how many tiles are on the ceiling.

2.      you know how many slats are on the blinds.

3.      everyone on staff starts calling you mom.

4.      you know the whole life story of all your nurses and aides.

5.      the clock battery dies.

6.      you start thinking about how to redecorate your hospital room.

7.      the flowers are all pooped out.

8.      the bed gadgets are not fun anymore.

9.      you decide modesty is not important anymore.

10.  you’ve blown the ball clear to the top of the oxygen blower.

11.  you start looking for pictures in your bruises.

12.  you have memorized the t.v. schedule.

13.  you start making your visitors play the alphabet game with you.

14.  you start making animals out of the rubber gloves.

15.  you start finding bruises you didn’t know you had or where they came from.

16.  you decide it’s more fun to blow into the rubber glove instead of they oxygen machine.

17.  you start pushing the nurse button when you don’t need a nurse…you just want to see how fast they will respond.

18.  you start trying to figure out the musical notes of the beeping on IV machine.

19.  all your neighbors have gone home and a new crop has arrived.

20.  you have exhausted all your routes for your ambulatory exercise.

21.  you start trying to figure how many things you can do with a rubber glove.

We concluded that when circumstances are not the most ideal, having a good attitude, a sense of humor, can bring smiles, joy, and laughter.  Next time you find yourself in the hospital feeling down and blue, grab one of those blue rubber gloves and blow.  The hysterical laughter may hurt but Proverbs says it’s the best medicine.

And if you’re in Tulsa, Oklahoma roaming about, and you see an older lady with blue fingers hanging out of her purse, there’s a pretty good chance that’s my mother...or if you're going down the streets of Tulsa and see a blue glove lingering on the ground, my mother was probably there.

as I reminisce, I count. . .

207.  hearing a new song, Blessings

208.  a new sister with a compassionate heart

209.  being able to stay in jammies when not feeling good

210.  cheerful, yellow daffodils

211.  redbuds blooming

212.  belief

213.  husband who always listens

214.   husband's arm around me in the church pew

215.  husband lacing his fingers through mine while praying at church

216.  new sisters on same journey

217.  memories

218.  encouragement

219.  laughter in unexpected places

220.  mother with a sence of humor...even in her pain

221.  blue rubber gloves

Soldiers

Endure hardship…like a good soldier of Christ Jesus.

11 Timothy 2:3

            When we moved into our Kentucky home, I met a very pretty and pregnant woman next door named Lisa.  Our first outing out together was to Lowes where she helped me pick out bushes for my new front garden.

            I learned from this young girl that her husband Robert was in the Kentucky National Guard and had been sent to Iraq for a 6 month stint.  She said only one more month and he would be home.  I saw the excitement as she talked about him coming home and they having their first child, a son.

            It wasn’t more than a week or two later we learned he would not be coming home to his wife and baby.  He was killed in battle.  He died a hero for saving his buddies just before. (you can see him in the top left corner of the picture above)

            I never had met the man but my heart was full of sorrow.  I guess mostly for Lisa and the son who would never know his daddy this side of heaven except through pictures and stories.  In time, Lisa grew stronger and she and her son moved on with a new life and a new home.

            As I sit on my porch, I always have thoughts of my prodigal son.  A sweet boy he is, I miss him very much.  It’s hard to not see him, talk with him, to have the relationship with him I once had.  (This story is being written in my other book, Esau Traps)

            I reflect back to Robert, the soldier.  It must have been hard to leave his wife and unborn son to go thousands of miles away but he had a sense of duty to his country and being the good soldier that he was, followed through on his orders.

            As I read in 11 Timothy, I see that I am to be a soldier also, a good soldier of Jesus Christ.  When I am, I can endure hardships, suffering and keep going in spite of it because of the thought of victory at the end.

            All soldiers have weapons.  My weapons are to be the Word, prayer, obedience, praise, and a love that passes all understanding.  My goal is to glorify God with my life.  So I train daily with the reading of the Word, being in constant communion with my Heavenly Father, living a life of obedience, praising my Father in Heaven and loving even when it’s painful.

            I know there will be victory and my son will return.  One day I asked God for a promise and right then and there He lead me to this verse…

            “There is hope for your future’ declares the Lord, “And your children will return to their own territory.”  Jeremiah 31:17.  I also trained my son for 18 years just as Proverbs 22:6 states.

            I smiled and have made the choice to rest in the Lord’ to rest on His timetable; to rest in His love; to rest in His strength, and not my own.

            My husband and I felt regarding our prodigal son, a spiritual battle was going on  behind the scene, so we hit the floor together on our knees asking our general to fight this war and we were armed with our Christian weapons.  I believe one of those weapons is our rest in the Lord.  This is NOT what the enemy wants.  He will not win, when we are resting in the Almighty, we will!

            In Isaiah, chapter 2, we read about a wonderful future of peace where instruments of war will be turned into tools of farming.  It will be a place of no more sin, no more wars, no more heartache.  We will live in God’s light.

            But we can live in His light here also.  What battles are you fighting?  Are you fighting in your own strength or in God’s strength?  Are you fighting with your own worldly weapons, or the godly weapons of Jesus Christ?  Are you resting in Him?

            Whatever your battles are, pick up the cross, the Bible, raise your voice in praise and march on to victory.

            When Robert reached his final home, I’m sure he heard the words “Welcome home son.”  When Tim finally showed up again, he was also greeted with “Welcome home son.”  His short stay was the conclusion of one battle within the larger war.  Today, he is still very much the prodigal and my husband and I are still on our knees.  For now, instead of ending this one with a verse, I believe this old hymn is appropriate…

Onward, Christian Soldiers

Onward, Christian soldiers, marching as to war, with the cross of Jesus going on before!  Christ, the royal Master, leads against the foe; Forward into battle, see His banner go!

At the sign of triumph Satan’s host doth flee; 0n, then, Christina soldiers, on to victory!  Hell’s foundations quiver at the shout of praise; brothers, lift your voices, loud your anthems raise!

Like a mighty army moves the church of God’ brothers, we are treading where the saints have trod!  We are not divided; all one body we, one in hope and doctrine, one in charity.

Onward, then, ye people, join our happy throng, blend with ours your voices in the triumph song; glory, laud and honor, unto Christ the King; this thro’ countless ages men and angels sing.

Chorus:  Onward, Christian solders, marching as to war, with the cross of Jesus going on before!

In our waiting, I continue to count the gifts. . .

eating cereal at night with my teen-ager, talking over Captain Crunch

my brother calling me to tell me all about his new business

hearing my brother say "I love you" at the end of every conversation

beautiful, wise words from men given to one who is becoming a man

head rubs during headaches

excited, happy smiles - priceless

creamy, smooth icing on birthday cakes

answer to prayer at the last moment

white bagged lunches

humor and laughter in the church kitchen

picture drawn for me by little boy

surprise birthday lunch with 6 girls

velvet tuberose bubble bath

home-made chocolate covered mints given to me by friend

gift certificate to a movie and dinner by another friend

birthday wishes

cookies on heart plate and homemade card by precious neighbor kids

having the General of all Generals on my side

being on His team

internal rest

Birthdays, Mirrors, and Eucharisteo

Simply Saturday thoughts

Today is my birthday.  Today I begin the last year of my fourth decade.  Today I look in the mirror and see gray hairs trying to spring every which way, (should I color?) and wrinkles etching deeper and deeper (face lift?).  Someone tries to whisper in my ear – “You’re getting old, your knees creak, your back hurts all the time, your get up and go doesn’t get up as fast as it use to.”  This could discourage me, but it doesn’t.  I have been given joy and I know the secret to keeping it now. (actually, it was never a secret)…  Eucharisteo…thanksgiving.  You already know this?  Follow me…it goes deeper than where a lot of folks take it.

If you’re following my blog, you know I am keeping a journal,   

 recording the unwrapped treasures God has placed in my days, until I reach 1000. ( I have a feeling though, at the end of this, I will be starting a new journal starting with #1001).  Ann Voskamp says in her new book, one thousand gifts :

     Dare to live fully right where you are, opening the hand to receive the moments.

    Gratitude bestows reverence, allowing us to encounter everyday epiphanies, those transcendent moments of awe that change forever how we experience life and the world.

   Naming offers the gift of recognition, the naming of moments is truly a holy work.

  When I give thanks for the seemingly microscopic, I make a place for God to grow within me. This makes me full, and I “magnify Him with thanksgiving” (Psalm 69:30)

  Is eucharisteo (thanksgiving) opening the eyes wider, the heart deeper?  Is this paradox, that giving thanks for what is, creates an appetite for more, not for more things, but for seeking more of God to give more glory?  Looking is love.

I believe this journey began at the pond, but I did not know the word eucharisteo, to place my finger on.  The lesson was put in me though. God had shown me that I could see him in everything out at the pond and taught me things and reminded me of things through the water, rocks, hearts in trees, the animals, hidden things behind tall grasses, etc.  I came home and began writing, which has been such a blessing to me.  And now, I am keeping a journal, looking deeper and not having to search hard at all to see more of God, to give glory to Him more often.  This brings me joy! Yes, He helped me find the joy again.  My circumstances had not changed, but He brought me back.  The secret is in the thanksgiving, the giving honor to Him no matter what, in the big and in the small, in the happy and in the sad, in the scary and frustrating.  In all, I give Him glory and honor.  The enemy cannot hurt me. The joy cannot leave.  This is deepening my 36 year relationship with this Savior of mine even more. 

I look back in the mirror.  I smile.  I shun the hissing voice with a wave of my hand.

Proverbs 16:31 comes to mind…(a gift from God)…”Gray hair is a crown of splendor, it is attained by a righteous life.”  He continues to tell me that in my old age I am not to be despised, I should have honor and respect, wisdom, strength, youth renewed like the eagles, and will flourish in His courts.  WOW!

Ok…my belt buckle won’t buckle like it used to and my knees do buckle, but I have so much to look forward to.  I spray that ornery gray hair down, dab my lips, give a “thank you from the bottom of my heart”, and I’m outta there to find my journal.  Oh yes, just a thought. . .if we attain that crown of splendor by a righteous life, then my husband must be very righteous, what do you think? 

Since my youth, O God, you have taught me, and to this day I declare your marvelous deeds.

Psalm 71:17
(EVERYTHING about this day is BEAUTIFUL!)

Time with the Lord in front of a mirror

My gray haired husband loving me gray headed or not

Wrinkles

Heating pad (for those achy muscles)

Baby doll tops (so you don’t have to wear a belt)

Erase (for you guys, go ask your wife what this is)
night time renewing cream

Renewed spirits

Unquenchable joy

Another birthday to celebrate and breathe

The number 49…it really is a good and beautiful number

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Cleaning, Shining, and Glorifying

They were grooming me way back then to become a housewife, homemaker, domestic engineer…whatever you want to call it.  I call it a holy work.  Please don't think that makes me sound like I have a big head, certainly not!   I’ve learned that if we work as if working for the Lord, then all our work becomes holy. 

Their grooming worked. I’ve been a homemaker for almost 30 years now and have always loved it. I figured if Jesus lives in my heart, then He is in my home as well.  So, when I sweep the floors, I sweep for Him.  When I wash the dishes, I wash for Him.  When I clean the porcelain bowls in the lavatory, yes even that, I clean for Him.  The one job where I have to put effort in having joy is ironing, my least favorite job.  But when I praise Him through each swipe of the iron, and thank him that I have a husband who is faithful in his work that requires these shirts he wears, that he has a job at all, and that I am healthy and strong enough to be ironing, I begin to glorify Him in this job and my heart bubbles with joy that otherwise could be bogged down in drudgery.  And so I thank him for my ironing board, iron, and clothing.  I thank Him that we have indoor plumbing and even for that cottony, quilted paper hanging on the roll.  I don’t mind cleaning, shining, and washing because it means He has blessed me with a family to clean for and a home to be cleaned.  These last two winters as I have met the homeless, I’m sure they wish for a floor to sweep, a bed to make, and fridge to clean out.  And I’m thankful that I live in the time era that I do.  For our grandmothers, it was a little more work.  I read this article below in the Historical News Paper and had to smile…it reminded me of helping my grandmother with the laundry when I was a little one. . .

Washing Machine Recipe

Years ago an Alabama Grandmother gave the new bride the flowing recipe:

Washing Clothes



Build fire in backyard to heat kettle of rain water.  Set tubs so smoke won’t blow in eyes if wind is pert.  Shave one hole cake of lie soap in boilin’ water.

Sort things, make 3 piles

1 pile white

1 pile colored

1pile work britches and rags

To make starch, stir flour in cool water to smooth, then thin down with boiling water.

Take white things, rub dirty spots on board, scrub hard, then rub colored, don’t boil, just wrench and starch.

Hang old rags on fence

Spread tea towels on grass

Pore wrench water in flower bed

Scrub porch with hot soapy water.

Turn tubs upside down.

Go put on clean dress, smooth hair with hair combs. Brew cup of tea, sit and rock a spell and count your blessings.

I’ve always been thankful but Ann Voskamp of 1000 Blessings, had taught me to look even further, deeper, with wider eyes to see the gifts that can so easily slip by.  She says, “when I give thanks for the seemingly microscopic, I make a place for God to grow within me.  This makes me full, and I magnify Him with thanksgiving.” (Psalm 69:30)

What are you thankful for?

159.  thick, cottony, quilted paper
160.  brooms, mops, and steam machines
161.  lemon and pine scented cleaners
162.  old t-shirts for great dust cloths
163.  coffee filters for sparkling windows
164.  pretty, colored sponges
165.  clorox to make that porcelain shiny clean
166.  mountain air soap for laundry
167.  fresh air scented dryer sheets that laundry soft
168.  modern day washing machine and dryer
169.  being able to feel joy in what could be the mundane and glorifigying the Lord through daily work

Things to do with those old wash tubs. . .

Happy Cleaning!

Simply Saturday

This simply, simple Saturday, I put on my favorite, most comfortable All Star  Converse shoes

to

pray on the front porch before. . .

entering into the garden to pick weeds. . .

then I found my way to the porch swing

 to rest. . .

then I head on over to my Cracker Barrell double  rocker to ponder. . .

in the evening I relax with my honey. . .

and then I. . .

(actually counting MY blessings, but you can count yours too) . . .

And then I retire them. . .beauty in the comfort of my shoes next to the beauty of roses from my beautiful sweetheart...

beauty in the many of God's blessings on this simplest of days.

and this I know...the simplest of all...

God is always good and I am always loved.

So are you dear friends!

My friend Jenn from A Country Girl's Ramblings

understands the simplicity of Home.

And has created a spot for us to share

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In pictures, In words, or both.

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Thanks for stopping by!