Author: Corgi Hollows

Last week Cherie and I drove out to Gothenburg, Nebraska to pick up a new family member. Her name is Yuki-chan.

Since Ed is learning Japanese, planning a Japanese garden, and generally familiarizing himself with that Asian culture we decided to go with an appropriate name. Yuki means snow in Japanese. It happens to be a name in Japanese, as well.

I wanted to add the “chan” at the end, which is some sort of diminutive qualification on a name. Ed vetoed this, saying it was some sort of cultural faux pas, but I like it. I win.

Her name is Yuki-chan.

She is a mostly white female purebred Rat Terrier. Her face is priceless. She has a doberman look with little brown spots above her eyes. Her eyes peer into yours with superior intelligence.

We are smitten.

Corwyn growled at her for a few days, but now she anticipates the chase games that occur several times a day. They are sisters, with Corwyn showing the ropes.

The trip to Nebraska was pretty uneventful. We saw Brian’s family, I felt sorrow in another way, and we rode a four wheeler through tall corn at night fast.

I’d say the trip was totally good.

Sorrow is just a fact of my life these days. I can distract myself from it with music or activity, TV, or reading—or studying, driving. In order to breathe I do distract myself. Heartache can be so tiresome.

Today Ed and Cherie are visiting our great State Fair. I wanted to go, but someone had to do puppy duty. Yuki is super smart, but she is still a pup. She needs supervision. I was the one to stay home from the fair. I look forward to the report tonight. I had a craving for deep fried pickles, but that will go unsatisfied. That is one of the things I usually get at the fair, along with a chocolate malt and mini donuts + all the milk you can drink…

Sometimes I get one of those expensive turkey legs. My mouth is watering right now.

Ahhhh. Fair time.

I am thrilled to report that I am not suffering from allergies (yet) this year. Usually my time at the fair is marked by hay-fever misery. I’m wondering why I’ve been given a reprieve. I’m thankful.

Classes started for me last week. I like them. Two good professors, two interesting subjects.

I was offered a long term teaching position, substituting for a second grade class. I paused only a moment before declining. I don’t want to work five days a week plus weekends at the hotel. I don’t want to go back to the admin of teaching.

Give me those days of variety, subbing K-12, all subjects!

My favorite teacher that I sub for already booked me for several days this year. This is promising.

I am breathing.

I have successfully pared down my life for now, with focus on my tasks at hand, my small circle, my immediate responsibility.

If you are reading this and feel I’m ignoring you somehow—perhaps you’ve called me and not heard back from me? Please don’t be offended. I have not been responding to anyone lately. I have had to pare down my entire life, and find new balance.

I can’t just quit (though that is extremely tempting.)

I’ve had to find a new footing, and my time is completely taken up with a very small circle of humans and obligations.

I have said this so many times on this blog: I’m changed. I’m different. I’m not the same person I was.

If you are going through crisis or life change I could only hope that my experience is helpful to you as an example, good or bad.

I’m being real.

The Lord gave me a person at the YMCA that I regularly swim with. She has opened up to me, and we have such similar stories. I have learned so much from her encouragement. We only chat at the Y, but those moments have been prayer-filled, helpful, and revealing.

I’m thankful for her.

With all my swimming and fasting I’ve lost 30 lbs and feel pretty good. I still get anxiety symptoms, but I think they are not as frequent. Your prayers are working.

I enjoy popping into my new church for Sunday Service. Ed and I, and sometimes Cherie, have found a new weekend pastime of having lunch at the Mall of America, strolling around among the foreigners visiting from the globe. We’ve been able to review several restaurants so far, ones we hadn’t ever been to before in the mall’s 25 years. We can offer recommendations if anyone is interested. We had excellent fudge at the Northwood’s Candy shop last Sunday. See you at the mall on Sunday.

My parents are doing well. Dad is back to driving after his stroke. He’s driving just locally, though.

I’m tackling the bad house problems that have plagued me over the summer.

Anyone want to come over and split wood for me? I need to fill up the woodshed before snow. God has someone in mind to help me, I think.

Let’s see who shows up.

It’s beautiful here at Corgi Hollows. I cannot describe the sun-filled fields of hay and corn, line and color that I get to feast my eyes on every day. Nights are crisp.

I am truly blessed. I cannot deny that, and my grief cannot erase that.

New beginnings. Heart flutters. Deep breath.

Yuki-chan, do you need to go out? Did you ring the door bell? Good girl!

Recently I wrote about the pertinence to Scripture and life that a daily time of devotion can bring to your schedule.

I have also been astounded by God’s perfect timing and relevance when it comes to hearing from Him through patterns or sermons. I have even had dreams that have helped me come to a decision or choice.

I am witness to His guidance in relationships, in where to go to church, in what my focus should be, and recently, conviction of sin and a pattern I’d been practicing.

Testimony: It was about a week ago when I sat up in bed and the thought came to me, “I’ve given up.”

I gave up.

I finally know what it is like to just give up. I really do.

There is a place that is called “Gave Up.”

It’s not a good place. It really comes out of a sad heart, a lost way, a place of regret.

In any life there are regrets. I could have, should have, would have…

No matter how well you run the race of life you will have these thoughts because you are human, and therefore imperfect. I have become aware of my own sin (and confess it here) that I should have loved more in my marriage, served more, helped more. I had the right mindset, yet I allowed petty things (foxes in the grain) to undermine my love and resolve. Marriage is hard. There were times I relied on my vows to keep me committed, not my emotions. Marriage is a commitment. Thick and thin, promises must be kept through it all. When you promise something before and to God you are held deeply accountable.

I say this because I am still in the process of grieving (ongoing) and my own limitations haunt me. I do wish I’d been better at being a wife.

If I ever have the chance to be married again I think I will treasure this lesson. I loved being married. I think women and men are created to be married.

I know there are so many who aren’t married, even those who desire to be, but it really is what God intended—-help for one another, a cord of three strands, two are better than one—It’s true.

How I miss my husband.

And I felt that I had given up on my life that day as I woke up. I felt that I had nothing to inspire me to go on. I felt that life was just over for me.

Last night Cherie and I went to hear Michele Bachmann speak at a prophecy event. Her words “Don’t Give Up” went straight to my convicted heart. You may be able to hear her entire talk online somewhere, and I really recommend that. The part about giving up hit me like a bullet.

Lord, you spoke directly to me through Michele.

As I piece together my life post-Brian I am well aware of all my loss. There are still things lying around that have value and meaning —my Master’s classes, my two children still living at home, my house, my pets, my parents living next door. These “pieces” have massive worth.

I am simply trying to make sense of how to concentrate on serving these things better, better than I did my own marriage for 30 years.

I was a faithful wife, a submissive wife, but I could have done better.

I could have done better.

Is that a regret? Is it a conviction?

I know that the Lord is telling me something even today: Don’t give up. Piece things together, get your act together, drop the selfishness.

Serve. Small scale. Just do it, even through grief and loss, pain and circumstance.

It is a beautiful day at Corgi Hollows. The acorns are bulleting my metal roof, the noise continues as they roll off onto the ground. I heard a blue jay give his “fall is coming” call yesterday. This time of year just really grips my heart. The beauty always makes me ache. Golden summer closing, chill of fall in the breeze.

May this quickening revive my own ambition.

I’m taking down?

I heard a speaker at our church talk about his success as a businessman. His name was Stanley Tam. He figured out a way to recycle silver from film—or something like that—and although now his tech is all but obsolete (probably) he made millions at the time.

I don’t remember much about his business, nor his testimony. I think I bought his bio at a thrift store once upon a time, but haven’t read it yet.

The thing I remember is his emphasis on daily devotions and consistent quiet time, how it will supernaturally meld to your own life and schedule, offering wisdom, encouragement, and peace for the very day. It even can portray the surroundings of the person reading the Scripture.

Truth.

I’ve tested this my whole life.

I use “Daily Light on the Daily Path” because my mom and dad read that to me every morning and evening as I grew up. I still use it. I read it to my kids too.

I also have my “read through the Bible in a year” sort of thing going, but it’s taken me two years to read the Bible in Spanish. I’m just becoming more familiar with the language now, and I’m in Amos.

Reading the Bible is something I can rely on.

God is communicating with us even daily.

I realize my life has been through some hefty and deep dark turns lately. I cannot offer much encouragement to anyone, really, but as the things of this earth grow dim the promises of Scripture seem to shine more brightly.

God is still good.

I still trust Him to lead and guide me.

The way seems really hard these days, but I think there may be a little bit of light coming through a crack somewhere.

Hope. It comes from seeking His face.

Some of you may remember the many novels I wrote in high school. Hours were spent at sleepovers reading my romances out loud to my friends, and even at school I used my stories to complete assignments whenever possible.

As I entered college I burned them all, realizing that they were sub-par, immature, not wanting them to be found if I accidentally died or something.

I regret that.

I wrote most of a novel as a missionary in Germany, kept it quietly in my files for several years. The shock was when Francine Rivers released the book “The Atonement” and I saw my story, so similar, in her plot. I would have been accused of plagiarism had anyone read mine.

It’s always rewarding to see that your work could have been significant.

Now I write here, and most of it is pretty raw, certainly real, and all mine.

I love romance. Jane Austen is simply the best. The heart matters are resolved with subtle thoughts and inclinations, nothing bold or cheesy. Characters are either lovable or despicable, yet nuance and reality play significant roles.

Every life is romance.

I have lived pretty fully at this point: blessed childhood, good marriage, five children, grandchildren, poverty, wealth, pain, death, loss. I am not an orphan, which at my age is remarkable.

I’ve pretty much experienced most of human life.

This helps me craft stories, understand change, and be realistic in my outlook.

After my husband died last year I have been in a state of transition. Grief marked my outlook, numbness, shock, confusion, concern. There are days I had to remind myself to breathe properly. Even today I find my hands trembling and my heart erratic. It takes time to recover from such things.

I didn’t ask for this change.

When one is snatched from the fire by the Holy Spirit one doesn’t necessarily ask for such change. It just happens.

Salvation may be the lifeline for a desperate sinner living in hell on earth. Although completely necessary for the successful Satanist as well, the process of repentance and life change may be truly unattractive in comparison.

Repentant sinners know their need for Christ.

Those of us who were brought up in the faith also know it.

Those who have been lured by the world have the most difficult transition to make, one that requires absolute submission and sacrifice.

To say that sacrifice is worth it seems trite, yet it is true.

Truth will prevail as the supernatural world reveals itself more and more. The necessity of Jesus will become clearer and clearer. We all need Jesus. To sacrifice for Him is truly difficult for those who are entrenched in the wealth and prosperity of this life. Young people have an especially hard time extracting themselves from the pleasure of lust and greed.

Christ gave all, has the power to save even the most entrenched sinner.

It is worth everything to turn to Him, let the story reach a tremendous axis of change and transformation, all for the future eternity.

The Holy Spirit is the initiator, therefore I am praying that He initiates this transformation in several people. Prayer is powerful. I have my list of names —those that need snatching from the fire—and I am praying, crying out to God to initiate the heart change in these souls entrenched in this world and all its pretty offers.

The millennium is coming. Christ is coming. The Rapture is coming. The end is truly near. The fire is also coming, eternal lake of fire.

Give up the pretty trinkets and fool’s gold for the pure precious metal of eternity with Christ! The earthly sacrifice is minimal in comparison.

Being saved is a transformation driven by God Himself. When I read of this beautiful and profound change in people I am inspired and hopeful. I know several incredible testimonies.

Satan hates these people and attacks them in severe ways. They fall. They fail. They hurt and they suffer. The battle is real, and the life lived for Christ is certainly no cakewalk.

But how temporary life is.

This present trial doesn’t last. Flip over to I Thessalonians, chapters 3 and 4.

Be encouraged that your story is happening in this moment, God is writing it, you are being transformed even now. This is a picture of salvation. God writes the story.

God wins.

Today is the day of salvation. Let Him start the story in your life! Repent and learn of Him.

It’s been awhile, dear readers. As a blogger for over ten years I’ve had few pauses in writing as long as I’ve had recently.

This pause gave time for an alignment job.

The quiet of grief and loss provided a necessary opportunity to pare down my life and set it on a new course.

Alignment, or realignment. So much is changed.

I’ve reassured my closest friends that my faith remains intact. I am having some trust issues, however, and it has made me more sympathetic, more merciful, more kind in my judgment of people. Generally.

I’m seeing and understanding behaviors in people that I never “got” before.

God is giving me an opportunity to relate to things I’ve never had to experience before.

Corgi Hollows is still a place to report the activity around the place, vent ideas, promote good things. It may seem a bit altered from now on.

After all, I’m not the quintessential home-school mom any more. I seem to have found a purpose in living for Jesus, it’s new and unusual for me, but the focus is still Christ.

Paring things down to make simplicity a theme has been very successful. Perhaps you haven’t seen me in awhile. I’m in a realignment.

I have chosen a new church to attend.

I have chosen to focus on the people the Lord has given me to care for.

I have chosen to be content.

I have chosen to let my grief come whenever it surfaces, but to acknowledge blessings and future hope.

I have chosen to look forward to the millennial kingdom where Christ reigns with His followers on earth. In this world we will have trouble. I will take heart knowing that Christ has overcome this world.

There has been little rain this summer, bringing the mowing season to a close early. The garden does well, and I’ve been treated to zucchini and cherry tomatoes. Corwyn, the Corgi, is still shedding profusely. I have placed a hold on a Rat Terrier puppy in Nebraska to take out the burgeoning Groundhog/Woodchuck population that will destroy my firewood shed.

I’m swimming at the YMCA almost daily to aid my neck and back issues. The result is a much more fit body and mind.

Music has been a comfort to me. My playlist includes Color Theory, Natalie Bergman, Marty Goetz, Jang Guen Suk, Hitchville, Ola Gjelo, Henry, and the Hidden In My Heart Lullabies.

I’m waiting and studying, watching and learning. I’m not the same person I was. I will probably never be the same again.

We all change gradually. Life dictates change.

Sometimes a drastic realignment is called for, especially as the result of major trouble.

I’ve had major trouble.

I’m realigned.

Going forward…

In all of life there are things you can choose: things you can change, things you can opt for, things that you expect.

Those things are never guaranteed.

When everything hits the fan, the bottom drops out, and you find yourself flat out on the floor staring at the ceiling asking “What just happened?”—

That is an unasked-for opportunity.

Re-focus.

Ultimately the God we serve is in Control. He is the Sovereign power of the Universe and He controls the chaos.

(There is really no such thing as chaos.)

I have a mind to reset. That is my choice.

In the past few years I saw and experienced great loss. Great change.

I am, subsequently, changed. There is nothing in my power to keep things “the same.”

Oh, sure, I still like chocolate. I still like pink and horses and Corgis. (I’m eternally 3 years old, apparently).

But things have changed. Relationships have changed. People have changed.

It isn’t that I don’t care, but I simply do not have the capability to care for the things I did care for formerly.

I have to refocus.

I have let many things go.

I’ve allowed myself time to set my face toward new paths.

If you feel left out of my focus I apologize. I mean no ill intent. I have simply downsized in a manner that is revolutionary for my sphere. Basically I’m focusing on Ed and Cherie. We, together, have a mission right now, and we three are going to work on that task. This is my focus, this is our focus. Each of us has our own goals and duty, but together we can take on a bigger project, just one, and we’ve decided on it.

Please don’t feel left out: I can’t handle anymore choices right now, anymore issues, anymore loss, anymore relationship.

The Lord is anchoring me in a new place.

I’m different. I’m changed.

My past is a blessing, a memory, and those of you who are a part of it are cherished.

Kiss me good-bye and wish me well.

I’m refocused.

I woke up a year ago (today, Thursday morning) and kissed my husband good-bye until heaven.

Alignment has been hard. Acceptance is difficult. Pain is real. Self pity is justified.

I’m still in the thick of it.

Tomorrow join me at Fort Snelling in the afternoon to commemorate my husband.

I’ve read several accounts of being lost at sea, and the description of the doldrums never fails to alarm me. Can you imagine being stuck in a sun burned ocean?

The moment when a breeze starts to pick up the crew brightens and the vessel begins to show life.

I have had my sails trimmed into an induced doldrums for the past few months.

This week marks the one year point for Brian to be in heaven.

I remember my dad saying to me one week after Brian died: “It’s been a week. Next week it will be two, then three.”

I didn’t know how I survived the first week—but I did, and his words were a gentle reminder that I could possibly survive time I couldn’t even imagine.

It’s been a year.

I remind myself that time must pass. My heart has developed a direct link to my tears, and the heaviness is truly physically painful. Sorrow is stifling. I’ve known sorrow, but the layers of it have given me a different experience.

The doldrums have given me time to process and manage the pain.

I’m thankful to trim my sails and my life down to just a few people right now, Ed and Cherie, primarily, my mom and dad. Anyone else dealing with this shared grief has been more of a balm to my spirit than whom I can help. I trust that people can understand that. I’m thankful for words of encouragement, for prayers, for thoughtful words.

I’m still in pain.

Pain changes things.

Don’t expect anyone at Corgi Hollows to be the same again. We’re changed. Different. We’re not the people we were.

For me, it seems that things I loved to do with Brian are especially sad and painful. I seek things completely different. My taste in music has changed, media, even the places we went I avoid for the most part. “Firsts” are important, and I’ve interspersed these things throughout the year, but the pain is unpredictable, and I prefer to avoid them.

New things. Different things.

Don’t judge me! Grief should never be judged. Those of us who are living it are simply trying to manage existence.

I know God allowed this pain. Jesus mourned too. He experienced emotions and pain. Why in the world did God created emotion?

Perhaps to give God glory—-

Philip Yancey wrote a book about pain years ago. I read it, and I haven’t forgotten the “blessing” of pain that he wrote of. Pain, something we avoid mostly, is a blessing of warning to the body’s stress. Perhaps I should see emotion like that. It is a blessing of expression.

These are thoughts from the doldrums.

The sun is shining. I’m listening to “Hitchville” today, a local group who has ties to some of my friends. Country music—Corgi Hollows???

Coping. Change. Time passing.

Waiting for the breeze.

Last weekend my cousin from Arizona came to visit and cheer this household. She always does, whenever she comes, but I needed her good medicine and cheerful ways more than ever. I’m so glad she came.

We cut rhubarb so she could make a pie for her mom. It turned out great, I hear. (Millie’s Recipe, find it on the old site!)

She always makes me laugh, gives me sound advice, and helps me regain the hope that I lose. It is her gift. I am glad to have a person like her in my close circle. We worked together at a department store called “Donaldson’s” back in the 1980’s, and I remember those shifts fondly.

I cried when she left, but there are promises of another visit soon.

I keep wondering if my air-travel plans will be thwarted by my health decisions. The New World Order seeks to control the flow of humans, and I am staying out of the global stuff as much as I can.

Globalism is really a thing these days, even as we find the hidden agendas and their devastating effects.

I’m being quiet again.

I thought I was quitting the hotel, but my manager begged me to come back. I’ll be back there sporadically. I guess that is a positive thing. I get to meet all kinds of people there.

As summer begins I see the changes in all of us connected to Corgi Hollows. We are just short of the anniversary of my husband’s death today, it will be a year soon. Memorial Day was filled with his memory, as we visited his grave, and his name was read out loud at the service in our city.

I feel raw. I still cannot believe he is gone, with Jesus, of course.

I think we will all be going soon. Look around! Where is hope? In Christ alone.

As someone who is thoughtfully pulling back from a frenzied life-pace I can understand my non-believing friends better than ever.

I am a believer, but I can see the tactics used to ignore Christ.

It’s pretty effective.

That is why I am praying so diligently for these dear ones to be snatched from the fire, as it says in Jude.

My list isn’t long. You might be on it if I know you, and you haven’t come to faith. There are a few “big” names on it, too, as I pray for the influence of conversion hope to reach thousands, if not millions!

You need Jesus.

He will help you.

Open your spiritual eyes, and let the Holy Spirit reveal truth to you.

Time is so short. We prophecy people understand! This is the season, and we are not unaware!

Maranatha!

I am surrounded by blue, green, deafening birdsong, sunshine, lilacs and sweetness.

And my heart is aching because this was the time of year that my husband really came to life, loving the yard, seeing the new growth, inhaling freshness.

Everywhere I look I can picture him hard at work.

And my loss is keen.

I feel like the beauty and the sorrow just don’t go together.

It is a conundrum.

I have to figure this out, but the heaviness in my heart is something I seek to distract myself from. It’s just too heavy. This is what grief looks like for me almost a year after my loss.

I am still remembering the moment I learned my husband had died, still wondering if it is really true. Why can’t our minds accept our shock?

I go on with the mundane things about me, subbing, mowing, shopping, driving, swimming at the Y, answering texts, paying the bills. I love the mundane. I’m so unexciting.

I’m healing.

I am thankful for each promise you have made me of praying. I need prayer. I need understanding.

My life journey has been raw lately, and because I am a writer/blogger I share it. It’s who I am right now, who I have become. I am simply the beggar telling other beggars where to find hope.

I like that metaphor.

Today I have the impetus to crawl out of my hole and take a look around. I’ve been in fetal position for a few weeks, and I’m giving myself some slack to see the darker side of my grief and let my guard down. My head hurts from crying, I snap irritably at little things. I’m not pleasant to be around.

Fetal position is becoming to me these days. You’d rather not encounter me.

God understands that I am dust. He knows my need and my weakness. He is always there. I’m seeing His merciful side lately. God, the righteous judge, is gentle and lowly of heart. I need Him to see me with that heart right now.

All I can do is pray for others right now.

Focus is a real thing, and I have defined my focus through these difficult months. I seek gentleness and lowliness, I seek to reflect the heart of Jesus.

Off to subbing for the rest of the day.

My dear cousin, precious friend, is arriving tonight to lift my spirits and connect for a week. She has sacrificed a week in her Arizona home to be with me. She always does me good. I’m so grateful for her.

Expect me to come back to life. I need to.