Month: April 2023

Cheri is re-reading the Little House books recently, and I saw “The Long Winter” on the table this morning.

My thought: I hated that book, and I loved it.

It is one of the deepest books of the series, the one with the most impact, memorable, and pedantic.

It comes to mind, especially the sacrificial love that is shown in each of the chapters. Bleeding hands twining straw into logs, just one of the poignant scenes.

It’s been a long winter here in Minnesota. We are all tired out, longing for spring, waiting for the water to subside, the temperatures to warm.

I’ve had water in my basement, and all the work done to repair it from past winters and calamity has been ruined again.

Sad face.

I need to find the core of the problem, a way to keep water from coming in. Floors have been replaced, the roof has been replaced, the gutters have been replaced—but I haven’t figured out the real issue.

I’m no engineer.

I can successfully avoid the issues by keeping super busy at work, but this morning I took the day off to catch up on home stuff. The problems are staring me in the face.

I need to be grateful that I’m not in the flood plain. I crossed the Crow River yesterday on my way home and it is magnificent and ominous. The water around my home is also impressive, as much as it’s been in other years during the spring.

Two events are planned for Corgi Hollows this year: Old-timer Neighborhood Day, and Corgi Hollows History Day.

The Old-Timer day will be in June, and it is for my neighborhood, but if you are a regular reader of Corgi Hollows you are also invited. It’s June 17. I’ll provide the Kosher hotdogs, but everyone can bring a dish to share in typical Minnesota potluck fashion.

My niece and her husband are “Big Sadie,” a folk band, and they have said a tentative “yes” to performing that day.

The Corgi Hollows History day is planned for October 14, Saturday. That will be a Kosher hot dog roast as well, with everyone coming dressed as characters from history. This event has been fun for us in the past. We will keep it simple this year, no shops, just fun activities and music by the fire.

Both events will start at 1:00pm and wrap up around 6:00pm. Come as you can, like an open house. It’s fun to see everyone, though, so expect the main activity to happen around 3:00pm. (Concert, music, etc.)

This is a heads up for planners, of which I must be one.

The forsythia is in full bloom. Cherie brought in a bouquet to grace the counter. I’ve enjoyed yellow tulips from Trader Joe’s in my Ukrainian yellow coffee pot. So cheery and sunshiny. I got some pink carnations there, too, as these lengthy cold and sort of dreary days needed some more color. Flowers are really God’s gifts to our spirits.

Ed and I have been talking about feelings a lot lately.

Does how we feel really matter? Why in the world did God create emotions? Should our feelings impact our decisions?

I’m trying to decide something big lately, and I know my feelings are having an impact. I’m unsure if they should.

When your mind is affected by a disorder, or chemistry, should you take any emotion into the factors of deciding?

Depression is real, sometimes chemical, sometimes spiritual. It has a big impact. Grief is also an emotion that colors and changes everything.

Dealing with seemingly endless grief is a factor.

I put a quote up on my bathroom mirror. You can debate the truth of it, the ramifications of it, but here it is: “I will not be responsible for your bad decisions, nor let them ruin my life.”

Bad decisions always have an effect, but perhaps the impact can be softened by a steadfast attitude in the response to them.

Avoidance is also an option.

As a believer I can trust God to sort things out, I can trust His timing, I can trust His guidance. I am a believer.

He never promised clear sailing, in fact HE PROMISED TROUBLE.

Who am I to argue with the Creator?

Though I don’t feel loved these days, I can know He does.

Perhaps not in the touchy feely huggy ways that people want to believe, but in the eternal consequences way.

That’s knowledge, not emotion.

That is where I stand.

Waiting for Jesus, here. We will see each other in glory, in the millennium, with Him.

MARANATHA!

After Brian passed away in June of 2020 I felt bereft on many levels.

The first months of shock and initial acceptance were simply the act of survival—learning the life skills that he had fully implemented for 30 years, and I’d gratefully let: bills, passwords, household projects, all the nit-picky stuff that engineers occupy themselves with. He was so smart and capable that I lived life on easy street married to him.

Easy Street disappeared when he left.

Because I am musical (very, really) I let music express my emotions. For some strange reason I could not listen to classical music easily after he died. It troubled my spirit in grief.

As a believer I am influenced by worship music, and I was given a children’s lullaby CD of worship songs which helped me.

I started a new direction from everything that pained my sorrowful heart.

With that new direction I began to discover, for me, an entirely new world: East Asia.

Along with all the new (or re-learned) life skills I was dealing with I started learning Chinese, immersing myself in East Asian popular culture, and finding new friends who shared this interest.

Out with the old and in with the new. New beginnings, new interests, new people, new directions.

The pain of loss was medicated and numbed with all of this new stuff.

I came across a kpop group whose music touched me, helped my spirit, and helped to heal me; ASTRO.

As a part of this whole new experience, with something that I had no clue about before, I started to make contact with them and with others who “stan” them. (That is colloquial for being a fan in this kpop world.)

I was learning about Asian popular culture in a big way, just by following this group of six kids. They’re all my children’s ages, six young men.

I knew that at least a couple of these boys were believers, but I put all six on my “Snatch List,” my Jude 23 prayer list that I pray for daily.

I learned about each of their lives, especially “Rocky,” who I felt I understood better than the others. He’s really Park Min Hyuk, a composer/artist. I’ve enjoyed getting to “know” him.

These ASTRO boys provided a sweet sound track to my grief processing, along with a few other East Asian (Chinese speaking) musical artists. Upbeat and sweet, they helped my sadness on days when I just couldn’t….

There are many ways to connect with these kpop people: Vlive, Twitter, Instagram, Weverse, Facebook, among others. It was fun to make contact. I had a moment with Moonbin one night when my phone dinged that he was “live.”

Sleepless nights could be sort of exciting when you chat with someone on the other side of the world.

On Tuesday Moonbin passed away, 25 years old. He may have been just a name in the news to most people, but I felt it hard. His funeral is tomorrow. Millions of people who cope with life without Jesus are really grieving right now. I’m sad!

Since I’ve prayed daily for him to be snatched for the last two years I have hope that he made peace with God. God answers prayer, ya know.

This is the second person on my snatch list that has passed away—also someone whom I know that God knows the whole story about. I can only hope and cope with trusting God for these two precious people.

It is so wonderful when there is no doubt about where a person is for the eternal realm. Those who know Jesus are going to be with Him. It’s nice when those who love them have assurance of someone’s faith. It helps.

I know where Brian is. I know because I believe in the Bible’s promises. I can cope.

I can trust that God answers prayer, too, and I hope to meet Bin in heaven.

In times of grief for those you care for there is an extra need for prayers of comfort. Perhaps this passing of someone seemingly remote and untouchable will open the door to spiritual awakening to Jesus in someone, perhaps in one of my new friends.

That is also my prayer.

I look forward to heaven. I always have.

MARANATHA!

So, I just finished another full week of being a substitute teacher. I’m very weary, but I feel a sense of hope and satisfaction compared to the despair of the previous weeks.

Perhaps students still listen to a plea for mutual respect.

I plead.

They were pretty good—-well behaved—this week.

That is some victory.

This is my weekend to work at the hotel, so I am running thin today.

Winter appears gone.

It’s raining.

A good friend sent be a photo of Brian and me this week. I’ve always been camera shy, and you can tell that from this picture, but it is a good picture, and yes, Nancy, it made me cry. She warned me.

It’s really good of my handsome husband.

These past three years are a blur with snapshots of clarity in my reactions and responses to trauma.

I simply cannot recall some things at all—others I can remember moment by moment.

Trauma is something I am gradually accepting and dealing with. It isn’t over yet.

I found an entrepreneurial high school student to help me clean up the yard. He is very reasonable to pay, but the catch is his school commitments and baseball. I’m still really glad I found him. He will come as his schedule allows. I’m grateful.

Ed is on the mend. Grateful.

We are breathing the fresh air of Corgi Hollows again, listening to frog song at night, and relishing the coming burst of green.

Expectations. They are dangerous!

Yet God promised us these seasons.

Do you know how I take comfort in that?

He keeps His promises.

We can live with that truth.

MARANATHA!

This might be an ode post.

I need to vent a bit after this week of subbing a couple of 8th grade days. I’ll admit it: it was rough.

I’ve been subbing at the same district for seven years now. March and April are usually booked solid for me, so I am worn thin.

All the anecdotes and stories, tidbits of info, trivia that I usually have at the front of my brain are buried deep under weariness and the present behavioral encounters of the days.

I’m dealing.

Big sigh.

It’s Good Friday, so I have a day to breathe in.

But I am tired. Kids these days…

I wonder if you have experienced the disrespect that I have. Being laughed at—not with—for having issues with being able to hear, for what I’m wearing (no matter how blah) and for any slip of the tongue or old-fashioned idea.

Yesterday I used the word “endure” and a girl loudly (disrespectfully) called out “What does endooooor mean?”

They insult our intelligence.

I know that the covid experience changed and affected our worlds. I get it. Kids are affected by the culture, global culture, internet, communication trends like never before. Many parents have thrown in the towel in dealing with their children’s behavior.

The parents send the kids off to school so teachers can occupy them for a few hours.

Teachers develop relationships with the students and deal accordingly. A sub comes in and it is fresh meat. A feast ensues.

I’ve know these 8th graders for seven years. They may remember days I’ve cried. I’ve been through a lot these past seven years.

Still, they show little compassion, for the “office” of a substitute teacher, nor for me personally.

There are always a handful of sympathetic sweethearts who may apologize for their classmates’ bad acts at the end of the period. It is a balm, yet the problem persists.

The bad taste of failure as a teacher to connect and inspire stays.

One kid asked me why I became a teacher. Clearly I was beleaguered.

My answer: “I became a teacher 40 years ago. I’m sixty now. It was a different world then.”

He nodded in response.

Subbing is not for the faint of heart.

I’m planning to be back in the classroom next week.