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I’m up for at least two hours in the night these days. The darkness isn’t quite so black as the middle of winter. The sun goes down late, gets up early, and the sky has a lightish color even in the wee hours.

Outside the walls of the house nothing comforting seems to happen

Coyotes put up their choir practice at least once a night, owls hoot, blood curdling screeches are normal. We live in the country. This is nothing unusual.

I always try to get the cats in for the night. Topi is black and can camouflage at night, Gandalf is pure white, so I always try to locate him, lure him in before going to bed. I’m afraid he will glow in the starlight. (Predicate rarely leaves the house, so I don’t worry about her.)

Dogs wail response to the coyotes and the horn of the Burlington Northern that often rumbles by.

There are noises. It isn’t quiet. Frogs and crickets add their sounds, too.

My dad is declining. At night he seems more confused mentally than during the day. Because of this we are on duty, guarding against any confusion that may harm him.

Ed and I, or my mom and Ed stand guard, every night. Mom needs sleep badly, so I try to be there most nights lately. I have to work at the hotel on occasion, so that is a conflict.

This changes everything, again.

I’m used to change, though, aren’t I?

It isn’t as if I didn’t see this stage in my elderly parents coming. I’ve heard these stories from my friends for years.

But each passing is truly unique. There are equations that sum up our situation, one factor differential, that define our experience versus anyone else’s.

I don’t have Brian here to edit my math metaphor. He always edited my blog, you know. I felt such satisfaction when he made “no comment.” High praise.

My dad’s experience is probably very like and also very unlike others.’

We navigate these uncharted waters and in the quiet of my new wide-awake nights I think about all sorts of things.

The night that my husband died, I was staying in a hostel for rock climbers in New Hampshire. I remember being sleepless, staring at the sky through the screened window, a zillion thoughts racing through my mind. It was starry skies, mountains framing the constellations which I could recognize.

I hadn’t come to terms with Brian’s death. I could only pray that he’d miraculously wake up, or that I would wake up from this nightmare.

You know, neither of these things happened. I coped by reassuring myself that we’d be with Jesus soon—-He is coming soon. The darkness was full of so many possibilities and pleas for mercy, pleas for Christ’s return. It wasn’t quiet, at least in my mind.

Now it is different. I expect my dad’s decline, his passing. His heart is too weak to guarantee much more time. We are in a waiting time, not a panic. He has lived his 95 years well, and been a blessing to others.

He does get anxious as his mind refuses to function like he was accustomed. Dad is a very smart man. When smart people lose a sense of place it is more traumatic. I’m convinced of this. He abhorred alcohol his whole life, so he has only ever been “sober.” A keen mind unused to confusion or dullness, it is an entirely new experience.

“Trust in the Lord with all your heart, Dad”

What a relief that he acknowledges Jesus as his savior! The comfort and peace, the resting from fear that this thought and will can bring, even in a confused mind.

When I worked at the nursing home in town as a sixteen-year-old, thinking becoming an LPN would get me onto the mission field easily (it wouldn’t have!) I was able to see how the devil (prince of this world) takes advantage of weakening bodies and minds.

it shocked me at first, but I’m thankful for the explanation my mom (an RN) gave me about the devil’s malicious intent to lord it over the saints of the Lord in their weaknesses.

It inspired me to put good things, God things, wholesome things, righteous things into my gray matter, that the evil one would have little to work with when (IF) my body failed before my life expired.

Sudden death is not exactly the worst thing. Lingering death can be really difficult. Sudden death is a blessing to the one who dies, lingering death prepares those around much more.

But one must know Jesus. He is the sweetness of the night, the fragrance of a weakening life. His Spirit is the power that can make all the difference between fear and peace.

I’m tired. I can’t do much else than think about things lately. I’m feeling a bit worthless.

I know that I am here for such a time as this, though.

Personal plans are on hold.

Thank you for your prayers. Corgi Hollows is standing in the need of prayer.

Maranatha!

One of the fun aspects of my Chinese language learning is watching Chinese “drama” to listen to the flow of conversation, learn vocabulary, and understand Asian culture. Of course the drama I see is heavily influenced by the puppet masters, with all their stag racks, 23’s, and subtle clues of dominance. They produce these shows, so they get their cut.

In each of these dramas there are conflicts, villains, and heroines. I prefer the softer plots. I hate suspense, so I tend to avoid any mysteries or thrillers. The relationship conflicts and their resolutions are enough suspense for me. Call me boring. I just have enough drama in my own life.

I do think I am learning things about repairing relationships, though. Each story has people with difficult personalities, falling out, and various degrees of conflict. I can relate to so many of the characters!

As a believer in Jesus Christ I recognize that His standards for relationships are my standards. I need to strive to love and serve everyone, keep a “short list” of offenses, forgive, and demonstrate Christ to everyone I meet.

What happens when you run into an irreconcilable situation?

In the land of Chinese drama fiction there is always a solution. In real life that doesn’t happen. One can forgive, but not always reconcile.

Reconciliation requires humility, forgiveness, willingness to compromise (on things that aren’t of faith) and lots of love. Prayer is a key component.

When there is no willingness to compromise there is no repair of relationship.

This is where a believer in Jesus sees the most conflict! Those of us who love the Lord, believe He has given us commands and standards to follow, shown us a way to live, and strive to obey Him will inevitably come to a place of NO COMPROMISE.

Those that cannot accept that will naturally move apart.

Faith is a divider.

We can hold our own standards, obey Christ, and demonstrate His love every minute of our lives, but we cannot compromise on sin.

When we sin we are bound to seek the Lord’s forgiveness, His Spirit’s power to overcome it, and to live each day with our eyes on His commands and the mandate to please Him and obey Him.

If a relationship requires a compromise on this there cannot be a reconciliation. Reconciliation requires understanding and acceptance. IF that isn’t there, there won’t be a reconciliation.

Sadly.

I have several people in my circle of relationships that have chosen a way of life that the Bible strictly forbids. Do you know how I deal with these relationships? I love these people. I love them.

I love them. I pray for them. I talk to them. I hug them. I listen to them. I am a friend to them.

I know that they understand my views, at least I believe they do, but I am there to help them and listen when they open up to me.

I am not making any compromise regarding that behavior in my own convictions. I recognize sin and I am determined to keep sin away in my own life. I am determined to confess my sin to my Lord, and strive anew each day in that battle.

When someone is under deep conviction and rejects me along with Biblical standards I am at a loss about how to repair that relationship. I can’t. Only the Holy Spirit can bring about a truly repentant heart. I have to move on.

I can still pray. My snatch list is full of these people that I can’t relate to spiritually, at this point. I pray that they will be snatched, be brought into right relationship with Christ and with me.

Ultimately it is Christ alone who can repair relationship. It takes a miracle sometimes, but God is a worker of miracles, every single day.

With God nothing is impossible.

Right?

Keep praying.

Maranatha!

Corgi Hollows is a magnet for interesting things, in my humble opinion. Negative and positive, of course. Both make life circumstances unique and novel.

Here is a quick update for you regulars: (I’m not posting this on any social media, so I expect that only the most regular readers will see this post.)

Ed is busy on our two acres. He recently received a bunch of strawberry plants from his girlfriend and he’s been planting them. He is raising all kinds of plants in the kitchen garden, that garden we put in a couple of years ago which is perfectly situated for watering and overseeing. Right now the volunteer lettuce is taking over the entire lawn and the new sidewalk! We can step over our salads as we walk to the car.

He is commencing his work on his Japanese garden. This will be amazing. We are all looking forward to it.

Cherie mows, helps next door with her grandparents. Hospice is now official for Grandpa. This doesn’t mean necessarily that my dad is going to see Jesus soon. He could improve to a certain degree, still, but hospice provides the exact kind of care that he requires after his recent stroke. My mom needs the extra help, too. It is a good thing.

My nephews and nieces are coming to see grandpa. My brother flew in from the New York City area for a few days to check on things and give Ed a break at nights.

Ed has rearranged his sleeping schedule to be available during the night for my dad. We are all calling him Saint Ed these days.

Our beautiful African princess is quietly preparing for her law school entrance exams. She is cooking things and experiencing adult life here at Corgi Hollows. All’s well.

I have recovered from subbing everyday, but with the onset of my dad’s health issues I have taken on the job of administrator more seriously. Corgi Hollows needs an administrator.

I just want to say: Single moms who work and take care of homes are AMAZING. I have not mastered this role yet. I’m not even close. The kids hear me cry out in agony when I forget to pay a bill (Brian always did that) or complain about something daunting that came up.

I really hate doing life alone, as a single. I didn’t sign up for this.

Sometimes we don’t get what we want.

My two-year-old-like tantrums are completely ineffective and unproductive, but they do release stress.

Soothing words from my adult children are always nice to hear.

I also love the hugs from my friends. I have international jet-setters in my tight circle right now, and frequent trips to the airport to wave them off or welcome them home. I hear the wonderful stories of their travels. These friends are integral to my happiness. They comfort me.

I have my sights set on Japan with Ed and Cherie, for my next travels. IF I can do Japan with them (and possibly my brother, too) I think I can do China on my own. Will we be able to? We are having something to look forward to, this trip, to celebrate Ed’s graduation from the University of Minnesota (Science and Technology) with a degree in Computer Engineering.

Who will be allowed to travel?

What will be restricted?

I am daily progressing with my Chinese language learning. I’m beginning to understand more expressions and more characters. It’s like a game, really. I think that right now I could travel there and get along. I hope to improve my skills by leaps and bounds before my first trip there actually happens (IF).

Some of you know that I am in the “control group” regarding the Covid-19 crisis. Despite my own good health I am very considerate of others and their own pandemic protocol. I know that my own standards have repercussions and consequences. I prefer to be healthy naturally, avoiding traditional or global mandates, due to some of the education I’ve received since and before Ed’s cancer.

I am not afraid of making changes as necessary, but I am entirely satisfied with my own health situation right now. Limitations should be considered carefully. Everything has its limit.

I have shied away from the controversy since Brian’s death. Even politics and prophecy are low on my list of mental head space. What took up most of my grey matter before barely sinks in these days. I rely on my bff to keep me informed, also LA Marzulli ( I love him!!!) and other top notch people. Carl Teichrib, you are the best! Jan Markell, Gary Stearman, Chris Pinto—I’m counting on you. We all should be listening to these wonderful people.

Politics are just depressing. I knew all of this mess was going to happen, as a prophecy buff, so I am minding my own business these days.

My father-in-law taught me that Micah is a book about minding one’s own business. While the globalists (WEF, WHO, Davos, Big Pharma, UN, etc.) bring about their global (beast) kingdom I am quietly pursuing the path God is giving me. I’m doing Micah.

I encourage you to set your sights on God’s path as well. It’s a positive approach to life.

Everything can be falling down around you, yet you are safe, a little flower in a granite boulder crack. The storms will beat the face of the rock, but you will be under His wing. Don’t you love these powerful images?

There is truth there.

Off to a graduation open house. It is that season. This young man is a stellar person. Ed went to Trail Life with him for a couple of years. I’m super excited to see what he does with his life…

Yes, Corgi Hollows is an interesting place.

June is becoming a most heart testing month for me. I wonder if anyone still likes this blog—I unpack so much grief and pain, and I know that I cannot handle any more grief and pain—why would I read about someone else’s?

There are wonderful empaths out there who still are brave enough to care about others.

I do care about others. I need others. Being a sort that had to pare down to find balance I had to retreat from my circles of people. I probably offended many people by doing that, but it was a survival tactic for me.

God is still good.

He still provides.

I am glad I am His.

How does anyone face the difficulties of human life without God?

Hope comes from Him alone. The only hope we have is in Christ and His sacrifice for our sin. One needs hope to survive.

Victor Frankl wrote a book after WWII that boiled down the meaning of life. Analyzing the survivors of death camps he acknowledged the role of hope in their mindset. Hope was a key element.

Do you know what I hope for?

Yes, probably. You know that I hope for the Rapture. I look forward to it. I just feast on I Thessalonians 4:17. It is such a hope for me. I encourage you to keep this verse in your heart and mind as well. It gets us through the days of dark memories and suffering.

Seven years ago, on Friday, June 13, Ed was diagnosed with Leukemia. I was in denial the entire day, but our oncologist confirmed it by that evening. Over 3 1/2 years of daily chemotherapy that followed (all kinds) I kept that hope of I Thess 4:17 in my heart.

Two years ago, on Thursday, June 18, my husband Brian unexpectedly joined Jesus in heaven due to heart failure while hiking the Appalachian Trail in New Hampshire. I was in denial for about a year after he died, but I kept I Thess 4:17 in my heart and mind and I looked forward to a grand reunion with him and Jesus. It kept me going forward.

I still can’t believe he’s gone. I know where he is, though, because of the hope of the Gospel, the good news.

As you know, I’ve been praying daily for people to be snatched (Jude 23), to be taken up with us believers to meet Jesus in the air. I have a lengthy list now, and it takes awhile to pray through it every day.

Something really encouraging, though, is to see God working in the lives of those on my snatch list!

Also, the unexpected interaction that has been occurring. It’s like God is showing me that He is answering my prayers to snatch these people! Exciting!

I may be able to reveal some of these “signs” someday, but right now these dear ones aren’t quite snatched yet, at least apparently.

The Spirit saves, prompts, woos. Prayer is powerful and mysterious to me. If you are on my snatch list you are probably experiencing some interesting ideas and thoughts, life circumstances and —-the love of God.

I’m learning more about His love. I am experiencing His universal power. I am seeing His prophecy and promises play out.

This is exciting, and it helps me look forward.

The world is a pretty bleak place right now, despite the June sunshine. We are getting in order for the global reset, the Beast Kingdom that God is allowing to be set up. Can’t you see it?

Fellow believers, we’re out of here, on to the marriage supper of the Lamb. Praise God!

This is hope, life-saving hope.

Any day now!

That word is pretty dangerous around this part of the country. It’s dismissive. It cancels out the importance of something.

I have heard myself say it over and over this past week. I started to ask myself why, and I wasn’t happy with the answers.

Life is really hard.

Corgi Hollows used to be a place where a positive outlook reigned supreme. Even in the throes of cancer and other difficulties (autism, unemployment, chronic pain,…) life seemed to be doable.

It is still doable, but there is a fragility that I cannot shake. God is God. He is our strength, and His promises still hold. I stand on His words in Scripture, and I reckon with the final outcome no matter what this life holds.

I still feel pretty bummed out about life right now.

Don’t worry. I have a fraction of hope left.

I focus on learning about Eastern Asia, learning enough Chinese to travel, and keeping the home fires burning (quite literally). I clock into my two paying jobs (subbing is over for the school year) and I get up in the morning.

Coffee and the Word, my habit.

Minnesota summer mornings can have a chill, and the fire is nice today. I opted for that instead of the porch. I have several fireplaces, and I love them all. Gas and wood. I’m blessed. There is something so cozy about the firelight.

So why do I feel dismissive, when I am so blessed?

Life.

The downside is that I realize how much shock and denial cost me. Life really stopped for me when Brian died. Some of you know that I am the poster child for the wrong way to handle becoming a widow. I was at a loss in every way.

I’m still coping.

I lost people on every level. I pared down my life seeking to regain a footing, closed social media accounts, lost friends, lost family.

I was seeking balance in a spinning world beyond my imagination.

This past week we entered a new phase with my dad. He is officially on “hospice” now. I am slowly grieving.

The grandchildren are wending their ways to visit and say hello—goodbye, whatever.

I see a life well-lived in my dad. I want him to reap the rewards of doing well. I pray that he is comforted and content at all times. Thankful.

We should not compare lives with anyone. Each person has a unique experience, some more difficult and even tragic than others. Some lighter and easier. It’s a truth. You will always find someone with more difficult circumstances.

Whatever.

I hurt today. I can’t dismiss my own pain. I’m me.

When I weep on a sunny day in June I am me.

Yesterday, driving home, a car hit a deer on US Hwy 12 on the Long Lake bypass. It happened in front of us, and I cried. I cried out to God as I saw the creature suffer. He answered my prayer and the deer expired within a minute.

I hate death.

I hate death.

I hate death.

Death is swallowed up in victory. Maranatha.

When I got Covid-19 I didn’t realize my loss of smell so much as when I recovered it. One day, a few months after I was sick with blood clots moving up and down my legs, I could smell stuff again.

I never had a good sense of smell anyway. I smell peonies and roses, skunk and garbage, garlic (sometimes) and other herbs. When I was a kid I liked the smell of creosote and oil at my family’s “shop,” where staves were made for silos. I just wasn’t gifted with a good sense of smell. Maybe I damaged my sniffer with sniffing gas…:)

Today I am sniffing the spring air, and I do smell the white lilacs that are in my parents’ yard. I get delicious whiffs of other blooms too. Spring is heady with scent.

In my old age I appreciate the five senses all the more. It seems that I aged 4 decades since Brian died —I felt 40’s, but now I’m feeling my 80’s.

As a kid interested in Bible prophecy I never dreamed I’d reach the age of 40. Now, twenty years later, I am starting to think about age and all of its curses.

I know there are blessings, and the Lord determines our days, but I have the curse on my mind today.

Perhaps it is seeing my 95 year old dad decline.

Aging is normal in this sin-dominated world. I think most of us forget that the ill effects of age were never intended when God created the world. Alas, it is a reality for us, now, and since the death of my husband I am only reminded of it on a daily basis.

My hearing is worse, my eyesight is not what it was. I like spicy food nowadays. We’ve already discussed smell. I can still touch and feel, but it seems that even that sense is lacking.

Do you long for Christ’s Kingdom and our new millennial bodies? I do. I have.

I just didn’t think we’d still be here. I thought we’d be long gone to be with Jesus in 2020. Now it’s 2022 and we are still longing.

Life is so precious. Each life is such a gift from the Lord, and it is a huge blessing to be gifted long life. My dad is one of those blessed.

He must have honored his parents. (He did, I can attest.)

Long life, being a blessing, is something I need to come to grips with. I’ve wanted to go and be with Jesus my whole life. I never dreamed my husband would go before me. I think he valued life here on earth more than I did. God’s ways are not our ways.

I was being taught to value life when Ed was diagnosed with leukemia. I was convicted in my heart that I hadn’t given proper value to the gift of life, the gift of the earth, the gift of the genetic code and generations.

Yes, we are fading, but what a glorious creation each of us is! There is a universe of cell activity in each of us, all 7 billion of us.

How long, Oh Lord? How long?

End the suffering, Father, and come and get us. End the decay of all flesh, the sin, the hardship! The death and pain, sickness and grief.

We are waiting.

We are trying to be patient.

MARANATHA!

…painfully beautiful mornings when I sit on the porch drinking coffee, weeping, dealing with the pain in my life and the contrast to the spring colors my eyes are feasting on.

I’m reading Scripture, praying, and crying out to God for my needs—which of course He already knows and has answers for.

I went to my cousin’s funeral yesterday. We, my mom and I, took my dad. This is nothing short of a miracle, since the past week has been full of questions about his health progress—or regress.

It does seem that he is getting stronger after his mini stroke a week ago. Thankful.

The funeral was a real witness, evangelical, and uplifting. Hymn medleys were sung with the mighty (and distinctively special) Wooddale pipe organ. Wow. The key changes were masterfully executed, transitions were perfect. Kudos to the organist! My cousin had wanted his favorites sung, so I think we sang about 18 hymns. Seriously, and it was glorious.

Living For Jesus!

Ed picked that some time ago as one of his all-time favorites, and it was one of my cousin’s, too. I think it may become one of mine. Such pretty harmony! Wonderful words. Look it up and play it today. You will be blessed.

Tonight our summer guest, A, and I will help out the worship team at our new church. I don’t know how long this “helping” will last, but I felt the conviction that I should, as the music team was virtually decimated over the past two months. Pleas for help didn’t fall on deaf ears.

I am a musician. You probably know that, regular reader.

I can’t sit still with my gift of music when there is an obvious need right in front of me. I pray that I can be a blessing.

I’m going to be playing guitar tonight, not piano, so I won’t be on my best ability. It should be fun to jam a bit again.

Today I am thankful for how God arranged our summer. Ed is mostly home, working on a project. Cherie works at the hotel about three days a week. My schedule is reduced to being available for helping my mom.

I’m hoping to teach A to drive. She’s sort of a prisoner here in the country, not having her own transportation. She likes the quiet, though, too.

She is from the DRC. I find it very interesting how God weaves themes into our lives. 70 years ago my uncle built a hospital in the Congo. Tandala. That hospital, built under the direction of the Evangelical Free Church of America, is still operating. He came back from Africa, (and his family) and built the house I live in today. That was over 60 years ago.

Today we are loving having A with us, and I can’t help marvel at the ties from the past. Why the DRC? Why not Chad, or Libya, or —–?

God likes patterns.

That is one reason I am such a prophecy buff. The patterns are so evident, and they speak to the future and to hope. They speak to order and expectation. We can live our lives anticipating the return of Christ, our meeting Him in the air (very soon, people!)

God is amazing. When we recognize His fingerprints on this awesome creation and time, events and circumstances we can be wholly reassured that He is in control. We can’t be shaken.

So, when I sit on my porch and weep I can know that my tears aren’t unnoticed by heaven. The life to come is beyond my imagination, but I anticipate it. I may be lonesome and impatient right now, but I am not unmindful of the blessings and care God has bestowed upon me. Can I grieve and be grateful at the same time?

Yes. Because that is what I am doing. I can weep for my loss and marvel at the pale pink/violet color of the tulips blooming in the kitchen garden. There is a group of unexpected tulips that appeared out back of the house. Ed says he didn’t plant them. Did Brian? They are a spot of beauty this year. What a year for tulips at Corgi Hollows!

Yes, spring comes late here in Minnesota. This is the beautiful time of year.

Get those hands in the dirt! Such medicine for the spirit, apparently! Sunshine and scent, grass and loam. Birdsong and frog medleys. Spring is in full bloom at Corgi Hollows.

Thank you, God.

MARANATHA!

First of all, I want to thank everyone from social media and here on the blog for your assurance of prayer and support since last Sunday morning when my dad had a mini-stroke. I wanted to give an update about how the week went.

First, Dad, as his condition is the main concern. After an initial confusion and inability to move he seemed to become more clear in his thinking and even able to control his leg. It seemed to be miraculous to my mom and me. There was gradual improvement throughout Sunday. We were able to take him to the doctor on Monday for a routine check-up.

He tries so hard to help us and to be easy to care for.

This week we have definitely seen a change, and someone must be with him all night long. He is sleeping in a reclining chair to reduce chest pain. There is more confusion at night, so it helps to have at least two people there.

My nieces came to help out with this night-time duty, and that was a huge blessing! Ed and Cherie are also part of the team. Everyone, including my eldest son, and Margaret, have stopped by and contributed to my dad’s care.

I decided to stop subbing for the year, except for the jobs I’d already agreed to. That meant, for me, to work 7 to 3 at the high school yesterday, then 3 to 11 at the hotel. A long day, tiring, and I was already a bit tired from the interrupted sleep of the week, even though I only spent two nights next door so far. The team is just amazing. Ed and Cherie covered Grandpa during my time away at my jobs.

My mom is really amazing. She takes her role as a help-meet seriously. Even with her own health concerns she has been steady and strong this entire time.

I say—-answered prayer.

God is good, all the time.

THANK YOU FOR PRAYING!

The plan this week is for my dad to actually attend his nephew’s funeral. He really wants to go. I’m pretty sure we can manage it, since the trip to the doctor went so well on Monday.

Isn’t life full of twists and turns?

God is in charge.

*relief*

My dad is 95. We share a birthday, I’m 59 this year, and I am close to him. I’m biased about my dad.

The proof of the pudding is in the eating, and I’d say I have many reasons to state that my dad is the sweetest. A man of conviction, faith, prayer, intelligence, integrity, guileless, upright, slow to anger.

He really is a godly man.

The pudding right now is his declining health. A year ago he had a stroke, and combined with congestive heart failure and age he saw a year of progressing health concerns. He has a few other chronic health issues, too.

This morning he had another stroke, by all appearances. His speech is affected, his right side is less mobile. A mini-stroke, probably.

It is a blessing to see his sweet attitude in this. He expresses his gratefulness, his wishes, his hopes with limited ability, yet complete peace and a quiet spirit. He wants to be home. He said how grateful he was to have his family be willing to accept these health changes. He accepts the change quietly, peacefully.

We would like your prayers as we go through this next development. That is what we ask of our friends.

I am grateful for a dad with whom I get to spend eternity. His faith shines right now.

I asked him the other day if he’d rather go peacefully to be with Jesus or be raptured. He gladly exclaimed, “I’ve got no preference!”

Happy voice, happy countenance. Sweetness.

Come Lord Jesus.

Maranatha!

Better.

Is it the beauty of spring and the lush green grass after storms?

The tulips and daffodils are blooming in force around Corgi Hollows. Spring always comes late to Minnesota, making the burst of color almost painfully emotional to experience. I cried on the way to school yesterday—the beauty was overwhelming. The sun shone across the lake: deep blue water, golden green treeline on the other shore, sky of the most delicate color to the west.

I write about nature in Minnesota because it is so remarkable.

We’ve been following the return of the songbirds, and I put the grape jelly out for the orioles. They called their arrival and promptly partook of the sweet feast.

Ed has been monkeying around in the kitchen garden and planning his Japanese garden. With our new-found Asian knowledge (Chinese and Japanese, mostly) we are entering a new world. Both of us have learned a lot this past winter during our time of Hygge. (That is Scandinavian for being holed up for the winter.)

Now that Japan is possibly opening on June 1 I think we can consider buying plane tickets. I renewed my passport, so I have to wait for its return. It is exciting to think of traveling, and I wonder if it will become possible for us, again.

The world has changed.

We wait for the new kingdom, coming soon.

It is seven years since Ed was diagnosed with Leukemia. The Great Tribulation is a seven year period, Jacob’s Trouble. How quickly seven years can pass, how much can occur in that time frame.

Death, loss, change, new beginnings.

I am ready for Jesus to come. The next thing on my agenda is to see His Face.

In the meantime I will learn and complete the duties of my new job, the Chinese-American NGO.

Sometimes I think about implementing the original ideas for Corgi Hollows: a home-school resource, tutoring, music lessons, art opportunities, library. As an educator I see the need for experienced teachers/moms to impart help where needed. I am always willing to help. I want to encourage home schooling.

Right now I need to finish the public school year, figure out the academic plan for my master’s degree completion and continue learning Chinese.

Tomorrow we have a young lady moving in for the summer. We are all happy to have her. She is from Africa, and she is a college student here in Minnesota.

Ed and Cherie have summer ideas, and some plans, and we are all looking forward to positive change.

Rapture?

Eyes on the sky. Maranatha!