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Love is often a choice. It isn’t always a feeling springing up from the bottom of the soul. Love can be a will to serve, care for, or stand by.

It may not come naturally.

I’ve been in the midst of a life-purge, reset, new beginning. I think I’ve accomplished the Big Change pretty well. I did it mostly by default, not on purpose, but a few choices needed to be made, and I opted to Pare Down. Change happened. I succeeded.

Do I feel a surge of joy at my success? Not exactly.

Loneliness, longing, and a desire to be useful for God’s kingdom still haunt me.

I feel small. I feel alone.

I know the Lord is with me, but He seems distant these days. I hash things out with Him daily. Who else can I go to?

Losing a spouse may not be the absolute worst thing in the human experience, but it is devastating, and I am not handling it well. I still have these thoughts about denying his death—This couldn’t have really happened, right?

Perhaps it is a struggle with accepting reality, failure, loss. I’ve failed at so many things in my weakness and grief.

I’ve been busy with the fall house cleaning. I wish I could come up with a system that stays organized and clean, but I continue to try and fail at this. “Sink Reflections” by M.C. revolutionized my life, but there are still so many things to organize, purge, and handle.

I wish I could get good at this. My husband was the one who did a lot of this, so even though I am almost 60 years old I am still learning new skills.

Getting a degree in Administration can be helpful to those who are administratively handicapped. Laugh out loud.

God chose to let me learn some needed skills.

Several years ago I was discouraged about the recidivism in the county jail. I had a friend who ministered in a jail, too, and he was also concerned. We saw people in jail who didn’t know how to live.

What if we helped them learn life skills? What if we took them on a hike and taught basic character principles, survival techniques, life skills, and spiritual guidance? Sounds wonderful, right?

An experienced boy scout leader (my husband), military men (my husband and my friend), pastoral guide (my friend), teacher (myself), hikers (all of us), campers (all three of us) had an idea to form a non-profit organization to help people stay out of jail and live life with a measure of success, physically and spiritually.

I started the process of learning the nuts and bolts of running an NPO. I applied for the Master’s program at St. Cloud State University in Public Administration so I could effectively manage a non-profit organization.

We were all on board.

Then everything hit the fan.

I’m only a few credits from finishing this Master’s degree, but my whole life evaporated in front of my eyes. I’ve been groping for purpose and reason ever since. My studies are suspended for now.

You know me, Miss Missionary Minded. We all need purpose in life. Man searches for meaning, right, Victor Frankl?

As a believer in Christ I have felt my purpose was for His Kingdom, and that can look pretty diverse.

It might mean taking care of an elderly parent as he dies. It could be raising a child to value righteousness. It may be showing up at a job to wash laundry or dishes. It might be showing good character to a fellow worker or anyone on the street.

Simple or profound, small or great. Christ’s Kingdom encompasses all of this.

As I go through old files I see documents or letters that ask for teachers all over the world. I am interested in languages: German, Turkish, Spanish, Chinese, Hebrew, Greek, Latin, —I’ve studied all of these languages some, enough to see linguistic patterns and appreciate the various cultures which they represent. I can speak a bit of each, read a bit more, understand enough.

As an English speaker in a foreign country I could appreciate language acquisition more than the average teacher.

My heart pulls me in the direction of mission. I have a delightful prospect with a Chinese/American NGO, but my current activity of caring for the people closest to me has trumped my studies and my progress.

Love is a choice. I choose to be in this season of limitations.

I trust that God will honor that choice, and direct my path.

He does that. He knows my need. He understands my rambling thoughts on life and purpose. He sees my massive life-change.

He sees my pain and my loneliness. He knows me.

He knows I’m trying.

He understands my failure.

He chooses to love me.

God is Love. 1 John 4:8

Maranatha!

The imagery is not mine. I read it somewhere once in a poem or prose: autumn’s color is like the finery worn for festive occasions.

Nature celebrates, at least here in the Midwest where the intense color of leaves turning is impressive. Amour Maples, Sugar Maples, Red Oaks, sumac, and all the yellows of Basswoods and Birch.

Chartreuse fields of grass contrast the russets. Above are the intense blue skies of fall. Sky-tinted waters, Minnesota lakes, can reflect the beauty, mirrors of this event.

The day after the ball will be grey and beige, but right now the celebration is full throttle.

I walk back and forth to and from Mom and Dad’s often these golden days. My eyes feast on the beauty of this countryside. I know that I am blessed. The artist in me appreciates this environment.

The contrasts are important. When I fail to notice a beautiful view my outlook becomes mundane. We need this beauty.

I’m currently reading a book called the “Short History of Chinese Art.” It starts with the Chinese legend of the birth of man. Chinese culture/legend taught that man evolved from the fleas on a giant that was earth and sky.

The insignificance of man compared to the landscape that surrounded him became a central philosophy of East Asian art.

Now we know that on the scale of string theory to universal dimensions man is actually the perfect mean. The Golden mean?

God put mankind central to His creation. We are significant. We are made in His image, and scale is just one indicator of this importance.

Yes, nature is powerful, beautiful, and awesome. It is under the authority and control of our Creator to provide us a place.

Choose to see God for who He is.

The God who made us defines Himself, and He loves us.

He is coming soon. Even so, Lord Jesus, quickly come.

Maranatha.

The next level of elder care has all of us adjusting to change again. Having decided to do home care for as long as possible is a decision we made long ago, but the implementation is quite the wake-up call.

My 95-year-old dad, a really brilliant man, and in excellent health for so long, declines.

This is hard.

What can I write about? Hard things.

To start out, I can state that I am weary. Lack of sleep takes it’s toll. As someone turning 60 in a few months I can say I feel it. Late middle age is definitely here, even waning. Old age looms.

It makes me think of the millennium daily, that place where we’re all about 30 and in perfect health, prime-time existence, loving Jesus, privileged and blessed.

This life is so short, so transient. These long weary days will be nothing but like grass blowing in the wind.

Sometimes I wonder how long I will be around on this earth. Will I live to be 95 like my dad? Longevity is a real factor in my family. We’ve all been rapture watchers and God has granted us long life. Still, 35 years is significant.

This is why I am re-treading.

Even as I care for my dad I am learning Chinese, mentally accepting sea-change in my own life. I hate doing life by myself. My kids have their own lives, and I rejoice that they are all productive, smart, and generally happy.

Cherie announced that she is ready to finish her Bachelor’s degree. There was much rejoicing—in my heart.

As a home-schooling mom I always had the standard that my kids would graduate with a four-year degree. Cherie has her Associate of Arts, so she’s no slouch, but she wanted to prudently choose a major, and that takes time.

She is a Tolkien expert, an online pro, who can answer anything about his works. She can write and read Elvish. She has learned enough Korean to understand passing conversation. Her artistic skills are impressive, her drawings have only improved over time. She loves to draw and write. Hmmm. Where did that come from? The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.

She wants to major in history for now, my second child to do that.

She is hardworking, bright, and beautiful. I couldn’t do life without her easily right now. I’m blessed by her. With all the sorrow and mess that I’ve experienced over the past three years I am grateful beyond words for her steady presence and personality. She is a treasure and a joy.

As Captain Wentworth described Anne in “Persuasion,” —“There is no one so capable as—–” —Cherie.

Brian used to quote that. Smiles.

I still hear his voice, and that makes me smile.

The days are beautiful. My brother and sister-in-law were here to give relief for a week. We all celebrated my niece’s birthday yesterday eating outside at place on Nicollet and 50th in Minneapolis. What a nice moment of early autumn to recall. I dropped them off at the airport afterwards.

Forging ahead for the next few weeks with my dad.

My mom had tested positive for Covid-19 a few weeks ago. Her recovery has been steady. She’s back to being part of the care-giving equation.

People survived the Bubonic plague, and they are surviving Covid-19 pandemic. We are surviving. Our days are numbered by God, and that means tomorrow could be the day we see Jesus.

Always keep that in mind. As life grows long, or is shortened in a unexpected manner we can know that God ordained it.

In acceptance lies peace.

Another Feast of Trumpets has passed. No Rapture. Perhaps today?

Maranatha!

Always watch. There is a special crown for keeping watch.

I Thessalonians 4:17

I work at a hotel every other weekend. Believe me, I’ve run into almost everything there, all walks of life, international visitors, weddings, events, and even some human trafficking. I’ve gotten to know the county sheriffs.

I have seen people needing “welfare checks” and people too drunk to lift themselves off of the pavement. It’s humanity.

Generally the people I serve are well-heeled and courteous. We aren’t a cheap hotel. I like meeting people and I make small talk with almost everyone who shows interest. I like talking with older couples from out-state Minnesota. They are usually the “salt of the earth,” small town stalwarts and farmers.

Mistakes are made once in awhile, and people show their true colors—vibrant, coarse, or subtle. I admit that as a person who has had an inordinate amount of sadness these past years I tend to have little patience for complainers.

Sorry.

The petty irritates me.

But there IS value in serving petty people. They are the quality control of life. I need to listen to them respectfully and try my best to appease their desires. Something is missing in their lives, and we hospitality experts must jump to the expectation!

When people ask for the moon I must humbly apologize. I can’t deliver. I can make an attempt to be nice, though. (It’s hard sometimes. I’ve had people scream at me!) They forget that I am limited by the standards of the business I work for. I simply cannot give them what they want, served on a silver platter.

Are you a petty person? Do you make demands of those who try to serve you? Do your expectations belittle reality? I hope that the one you belittle can appreciate your criticism and your “helpful” ideas about what should be instead of what is.

Next time you check into a hotel or order food at a restaurant I hope you imagine that the person behind the counter or tray is possibly someone working on a master’s degree, has five children, is a widow or widower, has experienced cancer, is taking care of aged parents, is a full-time teacher moonlighting for extra cash. You may be surprised at the life experiences of these “petty people!” Just because someone folds stacks of laundry and cleans up (disgusting) messes in your rooms doesn’t mean you should belittle or berate.

Be nice. Be kind. We are trying our best to learn from what you want and need. It’s okay to be petty, because there is value in producing quality, but it isn’t pleasant.

I like it when you are thoughtful.

Those are my thoughts.

It’s apple season.

My prayer partner, and good friend, shared a quick idea for a baked apple. Your mouth will water at this—

Pick a good apple: First Kiss, or Rave (they are the same thing) Cortland, Haralson, or Honeycrisp. The tarter the apple the more brown sugar —

Wash it and core it, slice it. I have an apple corer/wedge slicer. It works well for this. The apple peeler, corer, slicer is not necessary.

Stick it in a microwaveable dish, add a packet of maple/brown sugar instant oatmeal, some butter, and a bit more cinnamon and brown sugar.

Microwave two minutes on high, covered.

Enjoy. So simple!

The orchard near us, Apple Jacks, has apple donuts on the weekends. I think they are baked in St. Cloud (where my university is.) A sack of a dozen donuts is a great deal and there is nothing so tasty as apple donuts.

IMHO.

My mouth is watering. I think I’ll pick up some Haralson apples for a pie or two, too.

Firesides aren’t ready yet, nor are they at Apple Jacks. Sad face. I need to track them down, because the orchard that had them (Dumas) has closed. I seriously pondered a hike into their property to fetch some Firesides. They are literally rotting these days. Sad face.

Anyone know which orchard around here still has these delectable apples?

I want to know!

My little world continues to micro-evolve. Day to day there are changes that we must encounter, decide upon, and adapt to. Some things cease to happen, others begin.

When people leave this sphere there are so many adjustments to make.

Birth and marriage are huge adjustments, but I think death is the biggest one. Things are so final, so unchangeable. It seems like it is a new existence entirely, a whole new world, as the Disney song proclaims.

For my 95-year-old dad right now, decline is the name of the game. I have no idea how long this “game” lasts. It is unchartable territory. Someone with his strength and long-lasting good health can see incremental decline limited to certain aspects of his overall health.

For the time being my life is completely encompassed with his care.

This is a new experience for me, and one that I am reluctant with. I admit it. I love my dad! I hate seeing this slow progression.

It isn’t easy for any of us.

I’ve already gotten several calls to substitute teach, this week, even. (Shock!) but am declining for the time being. We are searching for good help, and that is a real challenge.

Times they are a-changing.

I cannot swim in the afternoons because the YMCA cannot find lifeguards to work. Our society is in need of laborers in a huge way. It’s uncanny.

Where have all the people gone? Covid?

I can almost imagine a world where two people are left after a prolonged battle with aliens. A thriller. It’s really a nightmare.

There’s a book the kids were reading for school called “Alas, Babylon” a few years back. That story comes to mind as people re-set after pandemic.

Life is hard. I know it.

I learned that one of Corgi Hollows’ top fans passed away recently. Heart failure. I’m sad. We all think about Covid and its related effects. Because I believe it may have affected my husband’s heart I think about this from time to time, and note how many other men in their fifties have passed away suddenly like him. It’s a thought to ponder.

This person was only one month younger than my husband, so same age group.

Meanwhile I will try to sleep, swim, do CrossFit, and manage life as it happens. Challenges. Limiting life’s activities to the bare minimum is survival.

I’m learning this. Simplify, simplify, simplify.

It’s true.

Come, Lord Jesus!

Maranatha!

When Brian died two years ago I received dozens of cards and memorial gifts. I opened them up, read them, and put them in a big box to re-read carefully at a later date.

I gave the money to a ministry that both of us cherished.

Yesterday I went through some photos that were chosen to remember Brian. As I placed them in an album I was overcome with waves of sadness.

I know why I haven’t been able to look at the big box of memorial cards. I’m not ready yet.

Sudden and unexpected death is very different from any other kind. Brian was healthy, young, strong, and happy. His death was a total shock. Heart failure.

I was shocked for months.

I guess I’m still in the recovery period.

I know where he is. That hasn’t changed.

I still struggle with thinking about his death.

Perhaps I’m abnormal. I don’t know.

I don’t really care if I’m normal or not. I’m coping.

Thank you, all of you who remembered us and wrote to us at that time.

I do cherish your interest and thoughts.

Please know that I have been retreating, restarting, reevaluating. I haven’t forgotten you. I’m still “dealing.”

Thank you.

It’s been longer than usual for me to neglect my blog. I’ve had some things to clarify and clean up in my personal life. When people pass away there is a natural inventory that occurs. Life matters take on deeper implications.

It’s natural.

Sometimes I wonder why I am still around, but I see my purpose in this season, and I know God watches out for all of us. I’m part of the service plan right now, and I’m accepting on this. I’m learning.

My dad gets weaker gradually. It seems to be a long process. For someone who has always been so capable it frustrates. He struggles with his decline.

We all do.

Yesterday Ed, Cherie, and I went to the state fair. It was a perfect day at the fair—temps and activities! I love Ecuadorean music and we got to hear a wonderful concert coincidentally —-we were at the right place at the right moment.

There is something so ambient about a perfect outdoor temperature, blue sky, great music and a sweet atmosphere all around. That was yesterday.

So many memories of past perfect moments came to mind. Nostalgia. Sweetness.

I decided to keep this semester free to tie up loose ends. I need to work on a few long-term projects at home, spend nights watching my dad, and figuring out my next steps. I have problems to deal with and people to take care of. I have enough.

Honestly, my faith has suffered. I’d be lying to say otherwise. Jesus is still my everything, but I do question “why?” and ask God for His explanation. I haven’t received it yet, so I’ll let you know when it comes.

I think I understand people better. I understand the loss of faith some have. I couldn’t have done that before my past three years.

It’s coming up on three years since my brother’s death.

This summer has been achingly beautiful.

Perhaps it’s drought in areas, repercussions of the pandemic affect us all. I see the heinous invasive weeds in our low lying areas and I know that is a metaphor for many things in life. There are some difficult issues to deal with.

We all have issues. Genetic entropy is a thing.

Dysfunction is prevalent.

Life is unfair, hard, and full of pitfalls.

We must walk circumspectly.

The Holy Spirit has given me a thought for this time of transition. “God sees.”

Sarah and Hagar, a difficult circumstance, and God looked out for Hagar. God saw her.

God sees.

He sees me. He hasn’t forgotten.

I may be in a spiritual drought, but I know He cares.

The rains of spiritual refreshment will come again.

We’ll laugh and smile again someday.

Meanwhile, I’m tying up these loose ends.

Come, Lord Jesus. Come soon.

Maranatha!

I was raised with principles.

I loved the “Institute For Basic Life Principles.” I probably went to that seminar dozens of times. I still access it through their website. I started when I was 13 and now I’m going to be 60 next birthday.

I had a mother who had strict principles: no dancing, no occult activity, no playing cards, no rock music, (of course) no drinking, drugs, or smoking. Bowling was “iffy.” She had good reasons for all of these principles. Logically, all of these rules made perfect sense. It wasn’t just NO, DON’T.

Playing cards? Look them up in the Encyclopedia Britannica. Read the entire section. You’ll see why she had issues with them. It wasn’t just the association with gambling. It had occult implications.

Argue all you want, there were principles enforced in my childhood for reasons that many would desperately try to explain away. I couldn’t, so I pretty much abode by them. I bore constant criticism and mockery for my principles.

It made me strong.

I think the best example of principled people in the Bible were the Nazarites. I brought them up once in an argument about principles and the pastor I was talking to burst out in mocking laughter.

Even the Nazarites faced criticism, though God seemed to approve their principles. Didn’t He?

I am not a Nazarite. I don’t care if you cut your hair or nails, or whatever you do. Frankly I don’t care about your principles ONE IOTA. Nazarites be Nazarites. I love you as you are right now. Period. That is one of my principles.

I do care about my own. I choose my own principles in light of my own relationship with the Lord and those around me.

If I choose to not listen to rock music that should have nothing to do with you. If I choose to abide by the codes of good citizenship, by principle, I shouldn’t attract anyone’s attention. If I choose to buck the New World Order as a prophecy watcher you can turn your head and look another direction.

Yes, my principles will touch others on occasion. No one is forced to adopt mine, but if you interact with me you may be affected by my principles. You may want something from me that my principles forbid, whether or not you agree or understand.

So does one put relationship over principle?

This has been the question of the last pandemic years. I have lost several relationships because of my principles. I’m not alone on this. I speak with people, friends, folks at my work, family—who have made the sacrifice of relationship for principles.

Fighting for principle is a lonely battle. People won’t like you. Your principles will welcome derision and scoffing. They will be clawed at.

I’ve learned to turn away. I answer to God for myself, not for others.

I can love everyone from my principled existence, I’m not judging. How could I judge anyone? I am not better because of my principles. I simply see my accountability for my behavior involving God and His plans for me. Why would I criticize anyone else?

So I find it irksome when people criticize my principles. I’m asking no one to adopt my principles. I act in light of my own relationship with Christ. If I am showing some obvious sin I expect my brothers and sisters in Christ to correct me. Sin is a different matter. Principles can’t be sin.

If you choose to criticize my behavior because I am abiding by my own principles I will quietly back away from you. Passively. You clearly do not know my heart.

I’ve done this so many times it has become normal, even if it’s a sad outcome. I will pray from afar, love from afar.

Lonely existence? Yes. But God does comfort, and He does bring like-minded friends into your circles. He has comforted me.

I encourage you to abide by principles. Practice it, because as the days get darker, the last days commence, people who want to follow Jesus will be confronted with this question of principle versus relationship more and more.

Choose principle. Eternal consequences.

Practice makes perfect, right?

MARANATHA!