This is a hard season. All the leaves falling, the darkness encroaching, the anniversaries of those lost to me.

I am weary, too. I am surprised at the way my “job” at nights watching my dad has affected my overall health. How do people deal with night shifts? I struggle with getting enough sleep these days, consequently I see decline faster in my heath and ability to think. As a young mom with nights disturbed by nursing babies I was able to recover by napping every day. I could deal with the children, housework, home-schooling, and all of life’s obligations with relative success.

Now that i’m almost 60 I see a major shift in stamina. Despite my efforts to become stronger (and physically I am much stronger with my time at the gym and the pool!) I see mental weariness being the main factor.

I am weary.

Sleep is lovely. Undisturbed sleep is a gift. I wonder if we will have the ability to sleep in heaven. I cannot recall Biblical authority on this.

But I am still praying. If I can do nothing else, I can pray. As I learn more and more about my new job and interests I realize I am only able to pray. Prayer isn’t an “only,” though. It has power.

Ed and I were chatting early the other morning before he left for school. We talked about the effectiveness of prayer and its role in the Kingdom of Heaven.

When we go through dark passages we are better able to understand the difficulty of faith. Faith that hasn’t been challenged is weak. Prayer may be the only thing that lights a path through that forest of spiritual attack.

Prayer. It works.

I don’t understand it, but it is effective.

Come, Jesus!

It’s a beautiful October morning, and I just completed my stretch of night-stays with my dad. I never know how I’ll be the day the professional caregivers take over to give me a break. I actually slept (from exhaustion) a couple of nights this week, and still heard my dad’s stirring, got up and helped him, then went right back to sleep. Today I’m alert. Some days I can be a borderline Zombie.

Alas, as one who is approaching old age myself, that pattern of immediate sleep after being awake doesn’t always surface. Last night I was wide awake for quite awhile after helping Dad.

So, sometimes I listen to Chinese, sometimes I think. I’ve found that in these past couple of years thinking in the middle of the night can lead to some anxiety, and that is anathema for me. I prefer to listen to Chinese.

Of course I pray. I repeat Scripture to myself when desperation sets in. God always answers. I figure if I cannot sleep there must be a purpose to that. It makes for exhausting days. Sometimes I feel barely alive.

When hard things happen we all react in various ways. For myself I decided to retreat, fortress, and retread. I felt the urgent need for a simpler, quieter life to manage my unavoidable destiny.

I am a widow now. I’m taking care of my parents. I’m processing difficult relationship alterations. I’m learning to take care of business and survive.

I think about death quite a bit, and that has opened a thought about my own existence and the days numbered for me. God numbers our days. Each and every one of us has days numbered by Him. That is an incredible comfort—a calm fog on a crisp morning.

As I withdrew from most of my past activity I didn’t really think about it being a death of my own in a way. It was, though. I chose to put to death many things in my life, just so I could manage the things necessary for me to go on with life.

One of the things I killed was my intense interest in current events. Having always been a political news junkie, mostly in light of Biblical prophecy, I became the opposite: I have no interest in the events of the world.

I became a cynic of Mainstream Media years ago. Now I “let” the Illuminati and the top of the pyramid dictate to the masses without raising an eyebrow of concern. The Beast system has always been there. Globalization is just another manifestation for this inevitable development.

The spiritual world is alive and well, and I am aware of it. The supernatural has always been natural for me. Example: I work at a hotel and I meet people from all over the world. I find it fascinating when people connect with me on a deeper level, not just perfunctory checking-in. I’ve been told all sorts of crazy things (you’d agree if I elaborated here) but there are definitely spiritual people, dark and light, that I encounter, and that experience is interesting. There is a dark force in this world, and it is pretty powerful.

As a believer I am fully confident in the promise: Greater is He that is in you, than he that is in the world. I’m thankful that I understand the source of that dark force and how it masks itself in a sweetness at times.

We are entering the dark season of the northern hemisphere, the dark season of Halloween, the dark season of blatant demonic activity. Some call it fantasy. I see and feel it for what it is.

The saddest thing is that as I study a new subject for me (East Asia) I am taken aback at the spiritual darkness, the oblivion to the demonic, the deception of the evil one. I see so many people claiming something righteous and living in absolute bondage to evil. That is hard.

Many cry Lord, Lord! God says that He “never knew them.” People can be forgiven for ignorance and lack of knowledge, but to purposefully bow to a false system, one that contradicts God’s Word, is living suicide.

The wood of the holly tree was used in witchcraft. Holly wood looks harmless but it has bewitching connotations.

I think about that as a huge metaphor for our existence. We are easily drawn in by deception. Satan is a liar and a cheater too! God says he is the father of lies.

Do you think any of us are above his ability to deceive?

Only those grounded in Truth will understand the lie. Those who live in deception have committed living suicide.

Lucifer is an angel of light. He is the devil, cast down from heaven, angry Satan in rebellion against the Most High. Let us be aware of his presence, his ability, and his schemes.

Being lulled in to that spiritual death of his domain is something we ALL must avoid. Remember that we are born into that spiritual death, and must place our faith in Christ to be reborn.

I may have “died” recently to my past life of being a family with Brian, but I am fully alive in a spiritual sense, fully aware of the battle that plays unseen by the eye. I chose to “die” to some things simply to begin again on a different level, accommodate new circumstances, survive. I’m living, but part of who I am died. It will never be the same again.

Prayer is a mighty weapon, and I encourage you to wield it unsparingly. It is the main thing I use in my new life. I’ve seen its effectiveness! Many, many battles are still being fought, though, and I do not claim victory in any sense. I can only trust that God is at work. This I know.

Arm yourself against the darkness with Truth from God’s Word. Be ready to be SNATCHED for the Bridal Feast at any time! Don’t miss the Glorious Appearing of our Savior and Lord, Jesus Christ. Be ready. Lamps must be lit!

Come, Lord Jesus!

Maranatha!

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.