Thanksgiving

What a joy, on Thanksgiving Day, to host the gathering at my home. Daughter Amanda and husband Jason, son Ben and wife Jodi, son Matt and roommate Dave, Great Aunt Marge and I all shared a precious afternoon and evening.

We didn't lack for desserts!

After the meal, we chatted and played games around the table.

But just a few days before, that same area was completely torn up and "under construction." Many times I wondered what in the world I was doing, ripping up carpet and scrubbing walls, so close to company time.

But the desire for reconstruction of my home was too powerful to deny, or, evidently, even to delay.

The deconstruction part was nitty and gritty.

Housecleaning has taken a back seat in my life the last few years (or longer!), but even I was surprised at the amount of dust (allright--let's call it what it was: DIRT!) uncovered.

Dust. Dirt. Whatever you want to call it, every speck had to be uncovered, faced, cleaned up.

Into the bucket went every bent, rusty nail. Every scrap of worn-out, shredded wood.

Every old and broken dream. Every abandoned and outgrown hope.

No shortcuts. No easy way. Just inch-by-inch, slow and steady. Out with the old, to make way for the new.

Deconstruction. Reconstruction. Not necessarily easy, but oh my . . . how healing. How good for the soul.

For all this, and more to come, I give thanks.

[this is the end of the post. For some reason, I have a h-u-g-e amount of black space before the post ends. Sorry about that. I'm at the limit of my knowledge of how to fix it.]

Once Again, Ouch

Well, golly darn and gee whiz. I'm in Ouchland again. After my last post, I was intending for the next one to be upbeat. Jolly. Full of joy.

Oops. Didn't quite make it. That's why I put in this oh-so-lovely picture of the last bouquet of California poppies of the season. I'm trying to make myself smile. It's nearly impossible for me to be sad, when I look at these beauties.

Along with some hard work on my house, like ripping up carpet, moving heavy furniture . . . .

. . . and painting walls . . .

I'm also doing some renovation of the soul. Some reconstruction of the heart. And it's hard. I pricked my fingers on some carpet tacks earlier this evening. I can handle that. What really hurts is the follow-up email I just sent in which my bruised heart spoke.

In my half-century so far, I have not accumulated a very good track record with men. I do my best to give honesty and kindness, love and compassion. But so far, that sort of offering has pretty much backfired.

I won't give up. That's just not in me. But I do wish I could learn more of what I'm doing wrong.

In the meantime, I'll pull up some more nasty old carpet.

What are you working on in YOUR life?

Ouch

I searched through my photos for a shot I was sure I'd taken a week or so ago. My gorgeous sunflowers had finally given up their last blossoms. The tangled brown mess of naked stalks and empty seedheads spoke of the end of a luxuriant growing season.

I was gonna post that here, to mirror the way my heart feels right now. Empty. Blossomless. Unbeautiful. But I can't find it. Maybe I just dreamed I took it.

And maybe I shouldn't be posting these thoughts. Maybe I should be digging deep for something inspirational. Usually, no matter what, I hang in there until I can see daylight. Hope. But not right now. Not tonight.

I had yet one more hearthurting time with a man tonight. I know that, the way I'm made, I am unable to do anything but keep my heart open to love. But that also means being open to hurt. And boy howdy, I've had a lot of that lately. Actually, for as long as I can remember.

No, I'm not giving up. I can't. Probably would if I could. But I can't. My faith in God, Love, is too deep and strong. I've learned from sad experience that a sore soul does heal.

I know that soon, maybe tomorrow, maybe even sooner, perhaps in the dark before dawn, I will feel the pulse of hope restarting my heart. I will review all there is to be grateful for. I will find something outside myself, something to do for someone else.

But for tonight, I hurt.

Come Walk with Me

In my little neck of the woods, we are being blessed with a glorious fall. My sweet daughter Amanda and I have gone out several days this past week and just reveled in the softly warm temps, the angled light, and oh, the brilliant washes of color.

We walked down a road near her house, stopped on a street bisecting town, tramped along Mt. Roosevelt Trail near Deadwood, hiked in Spearfish Canyon, and wound our way past Iron Creek Lake, in the shadow of Crow Peak. Never were we more than 30 miles from my front door. All the beauty I'm about to share with you (and these 3 dozen snapshots came from 3 hundred I took) is that near, just waiting to be seen and appreciated.

I'm not gonna add any more details. In one photo, my house is in the distance, but it's no bigger in the photo than an ant's leg, so why point it out? And the only human in any of the shots is my sweet companion in adventure, Amanda, and you'll know who she is, precisely because I have just told you she is the only human you will see :)

So, come walk with me, and open your heart to incredible beauty.

Wow. Wasn't that something?? Doesn't God do GREAT work????

I'd love to see any photos any of you have of the beauty where YOU live . . .

Have a blessed day.