Being Content

 Winter is here in Nebraska, with cold temperatures keeping me inside most of November. But I still have my outside "chores" which provide me with brief, very brief, times out of the house.

I'm feeding a feral cat twice a day just outside my back door. And then checking the little free pantry in my front yard several times a day to make sure it stays stocked with staples and snacks to feed the neighborhood. That and my computer, plus some intermittent visits by my daughter/warden, all keep me suppled with my material and social needs. (Being a minimalist isn't just about our home furnishings and decor.)

All of these blessings were fully noted this Thanksgiving. I even had the company of a friend's dog, Juliet, for a week. So, as you can see, my holiday was not all bad--as a matter of fact, I rather enjoyed the quiet and peacefulness of it.

Philippians 4:11 says, "...I have learned in whatever state I am, to be content". Circumstances are testing many of us in this regard. But it is possible to achieve with God's help. After all, verse 13 says, "I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me."

Caregiving in my Front Yard

I like to see spiritual connections in my caregiving efforts, so here's one I've been thinking about lately. God must feel like I do sometimes. It would be so nice if I could have guests in my house for dinner again, but I'm having to make do with feeding people from a distance. God can't wait to have us at the dinner table with Him in heaven, but for now He's having to "make do" by remotely answering our prayers and providing for our needs.

Here's my story: Toward the end of last month, it suddenly hit me that the "little free pantry" I've been encouraging others to have, might be a good idea for my own neighborhood. And of course, you guessed it--that location ended up being right in my own front yard.

I thank my daughter, who immediately went to the store to purchase what I envisioned as a workable, temporary pantry. Together with friends and neighbors, we've been making sure the supplies are there for it. School snacks are a hot item (we're just a block away from a school), but there have been lots of other food items gone too, every day when I check the shelves (or in this case, drawers).

Thanks to a local non-profit though, I'll be able to have an attractive, more secure pantry here soon. I'll probably show you pictures of it in my next post.

See the photo gallery at https://www.littlefreepantry.org/ for ideas!

(Will see you next month with something more winter-proof.)

Love Lives On

 This first week of September marks the anniversary of my husband's tractor accident 21 years ago now. It was an event that rocked our world and began those many years of caregiving that I never would have imagined for us when we were younger.

Losing her dad two years ago has not been easy for our only daughter, now in her thirties. But yesterday she discovered that her neighbor had just lost his only daughter, who had been tragically shot by her husband, the neighbor's son-in-law.

Kayla immediately got out of her car and gave the man a healing hug, a gesture that sounds so much like what Dean, my husband, would have done. I've never been much of a hugger, but her dad was. And I was so proud that she didn't worry about wearing a mask. The situation was too grave to bother. She did the right thing, and I'm so proud of her for listening to her heart and delivering the comfort that the situation demanded.

It was the best tribute to her dad she could have made. Thank you, Kayla, for being a comfort to me as well and reminding me that love is the only thing that matters.

Faith in the Future

My purpose for this personal blog of mine has always been to be able to share what it means to be a caregiver, how caregiving shaped me during those years when my husband was alive, and how those memories and lessons continue to impact my faith even now.

As this pandemic lingers, however, and tightens its grip on our sense of normalcy for everyday living, I'm finding it more and more difficult to link the past with what my life is now. Caregiving just seems a lifetime away. I can't grasp onto it as well, can't allow it to inform my decisions and experiences like it did previously.

So, writing here is good because it forces me to retreat once again to a different time, in a different world. This, of course, as healing as it can sometimes be, will never match the benefit from instead, reaching to the future and the glorious things it can hold for us.

In essence, I've been made to realize that the past can inform us, but it's the future that truly inspires us. We must keep our eyes on that "city which has foundations, whose builder and maker is God". Hebrews 11:10.

As a matter of fact, I was memorizing Hebrews 11, the "faith chapter", before Dean's death two years ago. I had just about mastered it, when it happened. I have failed to review and revive my memories of that chapter until recently. Now, those verses about faith are a sweet balm for me. Keeping my faith intact, making it all I need to take with me to the Kingdom.

It's the only lesson worth learning on this sick planet. Instead of asking someone, "How are you?", we should be asking, "How's your faith?"

My YouTube channel--a daily Bible study

Appreciation of Life

It's been almost a week now, and I haven't been able to bring myself to write about our anniversary, which was June 6th. Mostly, it's because I've been busy, but perhaps it just hasn't been on my mind as much as it should be, now that he's gone. My caregiver guilt showing up again? I think we all have it to some degree.

This is going into the third year since he's been gone...and life goes on. Thankfully, I've been able to fill my life, even with these abnormal times during a pandemic, with many worthwhile things.

I'm learning new things on my computer, and am connecting with far more people than I had previously. I still miss face-to-face time, especially with close family members, because I'm one of those sheltering-in-place, not-going-out-in-public seniors, for as long as this virus is out there.

My respiratory problems demand my vigilance in this. And even though some may see it as a lack of faith, I see it as an appreciation of life. Perhaps losing Dean has taught me that. My daughter has already lost one parent (never easy), and I want to do all I can to spare her losing another one before necessary.

Dean's memory lingers, however. I fondly remember our wedding. That, and all the other major events in our life together. So, anniversary or not, I'm thinking of him and missing him every day of the year.

Safe at Home

Almost a week has passed since my first "pandemic" Mother's Day. As with most things in life right now, the gifts and blessings have trickled their way to my door piecemeal, rather than in one big-time swoosh delivery, as it's been most years.

First there was the cake, candy, and cards, then the new cell phone and colored pencils popped up. And today the perfume arrived! Each has come in a different way with masked smiles, handwashed hugs, and virtual visits--sanitized disease-free with loving hands and big hearts.

I kind of like this slowed-down delivery and pace of life. It gives me the opportunity to appreciate my gifts more fully, to relish the visits that brought them to me, and to anticipate the next opportunity to connect with my family in whatever way is available.

The gifts serve mostly as reminders of the treasured family members who brought them to me--either in my mailbox or to my doorstep. The thoughtfulness of givers becomes the gift that keeps on giving.

Yes, I can't say when I've enjoyed Mother's Day more. I know I've never enjoyed it more deeply.

Show the Love

After experiencing almost a month of stay-at-home-ness, I'm feeling a bit blue today. I was just getting used to my isolated existence, when my birthday came yesterday. A little family time couldn't hurt, right? And I was thrilled beyond measure to have my daughter's family come over for a brief time to eat cake and ice cream for the occasion. I have missed hugs from my two granddaughters so much!

But, I have to admit, there's a letdown from that today. I didn't feel it until this morning. Instead of keeping "busy" with all the little assignments and routines I have grown accustomed to, I now find myself yearning for their closeness again. For the opportunity to share with them my grandmotherly advice and wisdom. All the little things we should have said and done while they were here. I just hope they know how much they are loved and valued, even when we aren't together physically. I pray they feel in their heart my desire to be with them, to nurture them, to see them grow. I guess this is how it is for grandparents who live far away from their little ones, even before this pandemic.

For those of you are staying at home as families though, I pray you will treasure the fact that you have each other near and dear to you right there. There are so many blessings in that. You may need some time away from each other, but that can usually be arranged with most multi-room houses today. When you are together though, I pray you make the most of this quarantine time and build your relationships like never before.

Accept each other, overlook little annoyances (like whistling all the time, ahem), iron out your differences when possible, and most of all, just remember to express your love to each other at every opportunity. For we're all in this together. And our time on earth is short, under the best of circumstances.

Be a Helper

Be careful what you ask for. With my chronic fatigue from pulmonary problems, I tried to get at least one or two days a week to stay home in my pajamas. How I longed for those days of rest to be more. My lungs work three times as hard as the average person, leaving me exhausted and short of breath most of the time, with or without oxygen, which I seem to need mostly at night. My lungs are healthy, but there aren't enough of them to function well inside my elderly, deformed chest cavity, due to scoliosis.

I will always marvel at how our world can change in such a short time though. In just a matter of days, my desire for more "down time" has been answered, and I'm inclined to make every day a "pajama day" until this covid-19 outbreak is over.

My honest, first reaction when it all started to gear up and I learned what a threat this virus could be to people like me, was to feel like my life was over. It must be like that for anyone who receives a diagnosis of a terminal illness. Especially cancer, since just the word strikes fear and terror in all of our hearts. Surely, I felt my days were numbered too, and there was nothing I could do about it.

But, as I started reading about the precautionary measures that could be done, especially if they were community-driven, I began to have some hope. If people would only take this pandemic seriously, and follow the advice of experts, based on what they've learned from other countries so far, perhaps we can get a handle on this virus and lessen the threat for people like me, perhaps increasing the chance that there will be a hospital bed for us, if needed.

It saddens and even angers me when people either minimize, politicize, or criticize the efforts to stop this pandemic. I wish these "I'zes" would focus on the "me'zes" among them, and stop joking and/or complaining (although I realize some humor can be a stress reliever), and just look out for other people in their neighborhood and family who will feel the brunt of all this the most.

Through it all, I feel God's hand in the chaos. We must do like Mr. Rogers told us when we see scary things in the news. "Look to the helpers. You will always find people who are helping." In this particular crisis, we all have a chance to be a helper. Just staying home will help.

Heaven Is Looking Sweeter

Here it is the fifth of February, and I have blown past another emotional day of importance in my journey of grief. February 2 was the second year since Dean's passing. It's hard to sit down and make myself write about it, when in truth, I was doing all I could to stay busy and let it slide unnoticed just three days ago now.

Except for a twinge of remembrance when I posted about it ever so briefly on Facebook, I have been successful in staying positive and upbeat, despite the sad overtones the day brought, in uninvited, but manageable, thoughts of the event two years ago.

The positive messages from friends on social media though were enough to get me through what could have been a gloomy time. Instead of dwelling on such a low point in my life, I was reminded of the love that remains from so many people around me, some close and some far away.

All I can say is, heaven is looking sweeter every day. Come, Lord Jesus, come.