Saturday, September 25, 2010
Monday, September 20, 2010
Monday Multitudes #553-573
For by grace are ye saved through faith; and that not of yourselves: it is the gift of God: not of works, lest any man should boast. Ephesians 2:8-9
Lord, I thank you for all your blessings this week especially;
babies, Joshua just born, and those who are just beginning to grow
birthdays, family and others who celebrated this week, Happy Birthday Ryan, Chad, Shannon, DeAnn, Michele and happy anniversary to my brother and his wife!
last minute invites to camp for the weekend
fishing from the shore and eating the fresh catch for lunch
a potty trained almost 3 year old, AMEN!, she just decided she was ready
a church rummage that helped motivate me to clean some closets
heaters and warm clothes and campfires in the cold, cold evenings
friends, all of them, I am so blessed
invites to grown up birthday parties
families, Lord, especially those who are struggling with health issues or mourning the death of a loved one
safe travel
a clean garage
homemade birthday cards for daddy
a walking partner, support to keep going
sunshine for a few hours
fly swatters
peanut butter cup smores, YUM
orange pumpkin cake with cream cheese frosting
being the same age as my husband, even if it is short lived :)
garage sales with mom
Monday, September 13, 2010
more Lake Herman
Nora pretends to fish with a stick, Maleah got tired of sharing her pole and convinced niave Nora that the stick with a bit of weed on the end was a pole and a worm. Nora fell for it; hook, line, and stinker :)
walking the shoreline, why have we never been here before, absolutely gorgeous...
a live one...
sneaking sips of daddy's coca cola...what a lover...of all things sugary and sweet
it took him all morning to touch one
Can you see the tooth she lost on Thursday? It took the tooth fairy two days to get here. Darn rain is hard to fly in... btw she was touching slimy things all morning...even putting worms on the hook...
No pants Nora AKA naughty nora, niave nora, nora boo boo, little lou...
squirting each other with the fountain Lake Herman
Seven keepers
fishing family
Addison fishes from the lawn chair, my kinda fishing.
Nora chooses a rock instead.
Gavin got the first catch and the last of the day
Momma reads by the campfire with a flashlight and it wasn't even that good of a book.
a rare indoor shot of Maleah watching the telly...sorry the setting of the novel I read was in Ireland and it rubbed off on me
bathtub beauties, shameful how these babies make me want to have more, then I am smacked with the poopy diaper reality of life
fresh baked brownies
Addison loves her bike
Nora; rock collector
where's (waldo) Gavin?Monday Multitudes #534-552
And He (the Lord) said unto me, My grace is sufficient for thee: for me strength is made perfect in weakness. Most gladly therefore will I rather glory in my infirmities, that the power of Christ may rest upon me. 2 Corinthians 12:9
By my God I can leap over a wall. Psalm 18:29 (said by David) God does not lift a man over a wall God helps a man when he takes a leap :) Move mountains... leap walls HE has got us covered, AMEN!
Hello Monday my old, old, friend.
Today, Lord I am in awe of your amazing glory, strength, power and love.
Thank you Lord, especially for;
telephones that wake me up just in time to get the kids to school - suffering a bit of campground lag this a.m.
perch that bite on kids hooks like mad
a television that I was dead set against in the camper that I watched Sunday morning worship Main Street Living, Pastor Spiehs from Wolsey had a wonderful message about the lost sheep
a patient husband as I read the weekend away...531 pages of patience, thanks honey
an oven in the camper that makes warm gooey brownies to help him be patient
Lake Herman, wow, what a beautiful place in this world
bike trails, hikes, and playgrounds to fill unplugged weekends with memories I am not a camper/outdoorsy person and this weekend was really pleasant
a bathtub in the camper to wash fish mongrels in:)
a safe surgery procedure for my lovely friend Harriet, may God speed your recovery
a prayer on 9/11 for those who died, and those who love those who died, and those who found those who died
an evening at my brother in law's, a beautiful home improvement in the works
a new battery for the truck so we could go camping
signs of fall
an evening run (W7D1) even though I was too tired to do it
a shout out to the village garden and grandpa Ray
a home for Lesley
a scale that doesn't fib and the threat of an oncologist appointment later this week to make me stick to it. Please Lord let him have positive encouraging words to say to me
no more suffering for JoAnn, prayers for her family as she ended her battle with the bully this morning Most faithful God, lively is the courage of those who hope in You. Your servant JoAnn suffered greatly, but placed her trust in Your mercy. Confident that the petition of those who mourn pierces the clouds and finds an answer, we beg You, give rest to JoAnn. Do not remember her sins, but look upon her sufferings and grant her refreshment, light, and peace. We ask this through Christ our Lord. Amen.
By my God I can leap over a wall. Psalm 18:29 (said by David) God does not lift a man over a wall God helps a man when he takes a leap :) Move mountains... leap walls HE has got us covered, AMEN!
Hello Monday my old, old, friend.
Today, Lord I am in awe of your amazing glory, strength, power and love.
Thank you Lord, especially for;
telephones that wake me up just in time to get the kids to school - suffering a bit of campground lag this a.m.
perch that bite on kids hooks like mad
a television that I was dead set against in the camper that I watched Sunday morning worship Main Street Living, Pastor Spiehs from Wolsey had a wonderful message about the lost sheep
a patient husband as I read the weekend away...531 pages of patience, thanks honey
an oven in the camper that makes warm gooey brownies to help him be patient
Lake Herman, wow, what a beautiful place in this world
bike trails, hikes, and playgrounds to fill unplugged weekends with memories I am not a camper/outdoorsy person and this weekend was really pleasant
a bathtub in the camper to wash fish mongrels in:)
a safe surgery procedure for my lovely friend Harriet, may God speed your recovery
a prayer on 9/11 for those who died, and those who love those who died, and those who found those who died
an evening at my brother in law's, a beautiful home improvement in the works
a new battery for the truck so we could go camping
signs of fall
an evening run (W7D1) even though I was too tired to do it
a shout out to the village garden and grandpa Ray
a home for Lesley
a scale that doesn't fib and the threat of an oncologist appointment later this week to make me stick to it. Please Lord let him have positive encouraging words to say to me
no more suffering for JoAnn, prayers for her family as she ended her battle with the bully this morning Most faithful God, lively is the courage of those who hope in You. Your servant JoAnn suffered greatly, but placed her trust in Your mercy. Confident that the petition of those who mourn pierces the clouds and finds an answer, we beg You, give rest to JoAnn. Do not remember her sins, but look upon her sufferings and grant her refreshment, light, and peace. We ask this through Christ our Lord. Amen.
Wednesday, September 08, 2010
Fifty-seven
That's how old he would be today. He, being my father. It's been over 16 years since his death. Odd, since sometimes I can remember him as clearly as it was yesterday.
When I am slicing a potato and I choose one piece and salt it and pop it in my mouth it reminds me of my dad making potato soup in the kitchen. He would share a whole potato with me while he stirred the pot on the antique teal gas stove.
When I drive the gravel road west of my mom's place and see the trees I think of cutting wood with my dad. He used to drive the little white datsun and I would take my sled and fill it up with the wood and pull it to the pickup.
Faintly, I remember him holding by my arms and swinging me and feeling the rough scrub of his whiskers on my face.
Teaching me to drive the datsun in the driveway is a vivid memory. I drove it right into the telephone pole. I still cannot figure out a stick shift. He still let me take it out on the road, though. He used to say look as far as you can into the horizon and just keep the car in the center.
Visiting dad on the job site was a treat. Watching him walk on his stilts with ease...it was amazing. I used to think he was magic. Once, he wore stilts in the homecoming parade.
I remember the sound of the saw. The smell of the sawdust. My dad's fingers smoothing the piece of wood and blowing the dust away. Sometimes I can still smell him. He was always building something. The barn was his workshop. We would swing from the long ropes into the piles of hay bales while he worked.
I remember his stories about going to high school in Los Angeles with famous people. I remember him telling me how much he loved to sneak in after school and run around the track until his sides hurt and then he would lift his arms and keep running until the pain went away. Now, as I type this, I wonder why my father spent so much time running at the track instead of going home.
I remember the first time I saw him cry. It was at his mom's funeral. We were in the middle of nowhere. I remember the dark parlour and the casket, I was too small to see in it. I remember him sobbing in my mom's embrace. I remember driving for a long time to see his step father.
Lots of memories. I remember him telling me"two fingers" while I poured the canadian whiskey into the glass and then added the coke and later in his life the pepsi. This was our morning ritual. As soon as I was old enough to reach the liquor cabinet I was hired as bartender. At the time it was a great honor, looking back it is sad.
I remember late at night lying on the floor listening through the vents to mom and dad fighting about money and his drinking.
I remember the year he got his big promotion and we got blue cross blue shield. Dad worked away from home for three weeks and then he was home for a few days. He was building a shopping malls. He even built some stores in the empire mall in Sioux Falls. It was wonderful to see my mom happy about being able to pay some debt and get some of us to the dentist and the eye doctor. I can't believe I never thought about how lonely it would be for her. I am lonely when my husband has three 12 hour shifts in a row.
Later as his addiction worsened the memories become dark and sad. I don't like thinking about those.
There is so much that I would love to share with my dad. My wedding, my first home purchase, little projects he and Ryan could have worked on together. The birth of my children. I wonder what his relationship with my kids could be like... if he had stopped drinking.
I watched him once, pour a whole cup of hot coffee in his lap. He thought he was drinking it. I watched his eyes turn yellow and his skin shrivel up. At forty something years old he looked like he was eighty. Yucky, awful memories I don't want to think about.
Every September 8th I am reminded of his life. Regardless of the choices he made he was my father. I would not be who I am without him. Happy Birthday Daddy! I can hardly wait to see you again.
When I am slicing a potato and I choose one piece and salt it and pop it in my mouth it reminds me of my dad making potato soup in the kitchen. He would share a whole potato with me while he stirred the pot on the antique teal gas stove.
When I drive the gravel road west of my mom's place and see the trees I think of cutting wood with my dad. He used to drive the little white datsun and I would take my sled and fill it up with the wood and pull it to the pickup.
Faintly, I remember him holding by my arms and swinging me and feeling the rough scrub of his whiskers on my face.
Teaching me to drive the datsun in the driveway is a vivid memory. I drove it right into the telephone pole. I still cannot figure out a stick shift. He still let me take it out on the road, though. He used to say look as far as you can into the horizon and just keep the car in the center.
Visiting dad on the job site was a treat. Watching him walk on his stilts with ease...it was amazing. I used to think he was magic. Once, he wore stilts in the homecoming parade.
I remember the sound of the saw. The smell of the sawdust. My dad's fingers smoothing the piece of wood and blowing the dust away. Sometimes I can still smell him. He was always building something. The barn was his workshop. We would swing from the long ropes into the piles of hay bales while he worked.
I remember his stories about going to high school in Los Angeles with famous people. I remember him telling me how much he loved to sneak in after school and run around the track until his sides hurt and then he would lift his arms and keep running until the pain went away. Now, as I type this, I wonder why my father spent so much time running at the track instead of going home.
I remember the first time I saw him cry. It was at his mom's funeral. We were in the middle of nowhere. I remember the dark parlour and the casket, I was too small to see in it. I remember him sobbing in my mom's embrace. I remember driving for a long time to see his step father.
Lots of memories. I remember him telling me"two fingers" while I poured the canadian whiskey into the glass and then added the coke and later in his life the pepsi. This was our morning ritual. As soon as I was old enough to reach the liquor cabinet I was hired as bartender. At the time it was a great honor, looking back it is sad.
I remember late at night lying on the floor listening through the vents to mom and dad fighting about money and his drinking.
I remember the year he got his big promotion and we got blue cross blue shield. Dad worked away from home for three weeks and then he was home for a few days. He was building a shopping malls. He even built some stores in the empire mall in Sioux Falls. It was wonderful to see my mom happy about being able to pay some debt and get some of us to the dentist and the eye doctor. I can't believe I never thought about how lonely it would be for her. I am lonely when my husband has three 12 hour shifts in a row.
Later as his addiction worsened the memories become dark and sad. I don't like thinking about those.
There is so much that I would love to share with my dad. My wedding, my first home purchase, little projects he and Ryan could have worked on together. The birth of my children. I wonder what his relationship with my kids could be like... if he had stopped drinking.
I watched him once, pour a whole cup of hot coffee in his lap. He thought he was drinking it. I watched his eyes turn yellow and his skin shrivel up. At forty something years old he looked like he was eighty. Yucky, awful memories I don't want to think about.
Every September 8th I am reminded of his life. Regardless of the choices he made he was my father. I would not be who I am without him. Happy Birthday Daddy! I can hardly wait to see you again.
Tuesday, September 07, 2010
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