Greater love has no man than he lay down his life for his friends.

John 15:13

Long weekend



Bermscaping in progress



1.  Plants purchased for berm, next stop, planting them.

2.  Found a sweet little bird bath fountain clearanced for $27 & got the last one!

3. Time to push the fire pit to the side, campfire season has been temporarily suspended.

4. Current favorite drink; ice water with crushed ice & fresh lime.

5. Hair is barely long enough for a nubbin of a pony tail so guess how I'm wearing my hair?  It's too hot for vanity!

6. Speaking of vanity, I also have a giant sun visor.  I may look silly wearing it but I'll be looking lovely when I'm an old lady with young skin ;)

7. I need one or two of those hanging flower things that are actually plastic bags filled with flowers that grow over and cover the bags.  Where do I get those?

8. Why does Donny insist on drinking from the bird bath when he has a lovely large bowl filled with fresh cold water?

9. I lurv Burt's Bees lip balm.

10. I lurv my back yard.

Let's get this weekend started!

Got any Memorial Day plans?  If you've got a hankering to play in the dirt, come on by!  We're doing yardification this weekend.  I, in fact, have taken a last minute vacation day today and I'm off on the holiday so I'm on a four day weekend....yahoooooooo!  The Mr. just woke up and I said, "Hey let's get going!"  and he said, "I'm gonna lay down for a little longer."
Sissy.


May 2011, prior to patio & berm...



I considered having a little something on Monday but decided to spare myself that pressure, although it's a pressure I enjoy, to concentrate on flowers, herbs, veggies and shrubbery.  The Mr. installed the privacy fence around our berm and now it's time to add the fun stuff to finish it up.  I have peonies waiting patiently for a permanent home, for starters. I've already been on the back porch this morning enjoying the cool breeze and a cup of coffee.  Donny and I had a meaningful conversation about butterfly bushes as well as the benefit of evergreens in the attracting of hummingbirds.  He wagged his tail enthusiastically when I told him that Jesus loves us.  He loves Jesus too ;)

He and I took a peek at the berry patch and agreed we could wait for the rain tomorrow to water it.  He's very knowledgeable about these things.

So that's all the news from this new old house!  There won't be a fabulous barbecue this weekend but if you stop by to help landscape, I'll make you a tall cold glass of lemonade!


Mother's Day 2012, patio done and berm in progress...



No wine before its time

I'm going to tell you a secret because I know we are BFFs and you won't repeat it.
I drank wine.  I know!
A while back some folks at work suggested a glass of wine before bed time to ease my insomnia.  It didn't work and it tasted gross.  I'm not sure the Mr. purchased me a quality wine as it came in a six pack.  Then a few weeks ago, I was given a bottle of pomegranate wine as a gift for my nomination during nurse's week.  Oh dear, does no one believe that I don't drink? 
Let me give you some idea of what I mean by I don't drink.  That means, having been born in 1967, I have never ever ever never ever had a drink.  I was on a 45 year streak.  This was fascinating to the people at work.  Not because they necessarily wanted to see me get liquored up (well, there is this one maintenance guy but we won't talk about him.)  They just couldn't understand why.  Why I was literally going 48 hours without sleep and yet dug my heels in about sipping a few ounces of wine.  Why I was taking over 100 mg of Benadryl within four hours trying to rest and yet drew the line at alcohol. 
So I looked them in the eye and explained, "I'm on a forty five year streak!"
And they looked at me with love and admiration and said, "But why?"
And then I looked at them and said, "Well,  because you are all going to hell."
Stated aloud, it seemed quite ridiculous.
So I brought home my pomegranate wine (you have to admit that sounds tasty.)   Then we sat around and discussed at length whether pomegranate wine was likely to A. taste better than that stuff the Mr. bought and B. was likely to send us to hell.  The conclusion was yes and no.
So we googled how to open a bottle of wine without a corkscrew because possession of a corkscrew is proof you're holding hands with the devil.  Then we opened that bottle up using a screw and pliers because that's classy and yet not evil.
Then we poured that wine into champagne flutes because that's what the Mr. bought during his previous foray into helping me sleep.  Then we googled how to drink wine.
Then we swirled it and admired the viscosity and held it up to the light and discussed woody overtones and hints of fruit on the tongue and poetry on the uvula.
Then we took our flutes of pomegranate wine outside and sat around the fire in the breezy twilight and drank it.
And then we went to hell.
Wait, no, that's not right.  So far the earth has not opened up and swallowed us. 
Of course, the other explanation is that we don't want to become drunks.  So far we're ok on that as well.
Then again, we don't want to get in a car and kill an entire family innocently driving their mini van down the road.  All minivans remains safe as of this writing.
The wine, pomegranate or otherwise, does not help me sleep.  It did teach me a lesson.  In the waters of my spirit, there are shallows where one runs aground and goes no where.
The no alcohol rule had its moment.  The moment was when I lacked the discipline and maturity to deal with it.  When I was underage and it was illegal.  But it is a rule, it is legality.  We Olde Time Christians can tend to love our rules. After all, that old time religion is good enough for me.  It proves we are set apart, in but not of.  Oh be careful little ears and eyes and mouth and feet...
We are sometimes afraid of our freedom in Christ.  Yes, you can indeed drink alcohol.  But you are not allowed to know of someone in need and not help.  That is the new rule.
We'd rather skip the wine and look the other way sometimes.
Ouch.
Oh be careful little rules because they can breed judgementalism and change set apart to set above.  They can be sticking points in conversations that ultimately do nothing to express the grace and joy of Christ in us.
I'd no sooner advise you to start drinking than I would to start over-eating.  Or being lazy or having a flat screen television when children don't have enough to eat in Africa.  Don't do any of that. Actually, it might be better if you had a glass of wine, lost some weight, started exercising and sponsored a child.
Our individual personal convictions will be different as Jesus seeks a relationship that is one to one, not one to some.
As for me, I've had a secret love of O'Doull's for quite some time.
And I cannot promise to never again have a sip of wine around the fire with people I love.
And ok, I'll admit it, I've looked at vineyards on Michigan.org and thought I might just take a day trip.
And Jesus loves me just as much as he did before I broke my 45 year streak.


 

Love Hate Relationships

1. I love planting time!

2. I hate a messy house.

3. I love my berry patch!

4. I hate insomnia.

5. I love the smell of tomato leaves!

6. I hate my butt.

7. I love coffee on the back porch!

8. I hate possums.

9. I love good hair!

10. I hate my hair (most days.)

Worried about tomorrow

Matthew 6:34 basically tells us, "Don't worry about tomorrow."  I was thinking about that verse this morning as I was also thinking about my weight.   Then I thought some more and envisioned the pile of work on my desk that I absolutely must complete today even if that means an extra long work day.  I'll be honest, I was finding not worrying about tomorrow to be a lofty goal.  I could continue the list of stuff that has me worrying about tomorrow but I suspect you have your own list.

That list includes things that you look forward to and worry that you won't get to enjoy as well as things you need to take care of that are a dark cloud over your head; correct?  Yup, I figured as much.

So how does a responsible person who takes her responsibilities seriously not worry about tomorrow?  The enemy, excellent liar that he is, will convince us ever so subtly that the worrying is what proves we are dependable upright people. 

The remedy for worrying about tomorrow is the stewardship we demonstrate over today.  Or the lack thereof, in which case, there is reason to worry about the consequences we have caused ourselves looming just over the next sunrise.  My weight is indeed tomorrow's worry for every today that I am irresponsible with my eating and exercise.  My work, on the other hand, is not worry worthy.  It is piled as high as an elephant's eyyyyyyye and it seems like it's growing clear up to the skyyyyyyy! (Sorry, a little show tune makes the day nicer.)

However!  That work is part of my job and if I continue day by day doing my job well, tomorrow will indeed take care of itself.  If I have to work late?  That's also part of my job for which I receive a paycheck.  I need only worry if I squander my day and miss the deadlines for my reports and responsibilities.  The natural consequence will be self-imposed.  The very worst kind.

If you do not want to worry about tomorrow, take very good care of today.  Discipline your mind so that your words are sweet and wise and you will not dread facing the embarrassment of your behavior.  Discipline your time so that your responsibilities are well managed and you will not dread the boss knocking on your door or your kids not having clean clothes for school tomorrow.  Submit to the discipline of the Holy Spirit who will teach you that what you think of as unpleasantness today (such as not eating a donut for breakfast!) will spare you worry tomorrow (such as hating the way you look in the mirror.) 

Give today to Jesus, and don't worry about tomorrow.

Between the grass and sky

Finally, Michigan has crossed into planting season.  If you are not a Michigander, you may not realize it, but only a fool plants in Michigan before Mother's Day.  It doesn't matter if it was ninety degrees in April, Michigan weather is a wacky prankster.  We don't tempt her.
Although I usually go running amok at the local nurseries this time of year, I am proceeding with an admirable degree of self restraint.  Over the past few years we've been slowly (did I mention sloooooowly) doing some gentle changes to the yard in pursuit of permanent always been there looking improvements, our goal being very little in the annual family and focusing on perennials that will get better with age.  Last year we made the biggest leap when the Mr. and Mac put in our backyard patio.  My grampa put our back porch on years ago, which is actually a deck but doesn't back porch sound nicer?  Yes it does.
Beyond the back porch had always been a little square of lawn with not much to say for itself.  So we gave it a little thought for a few years, living in it and letting it tell us what it wanted to be.  If you don't understand the concept of a house or yard telling you what it wants to be, well, I don't know what to say.
Anyway, finally we decided upon a patio.  We also decided upon a privacy fence because this half of the yard has that fishbowl feeling many suburban homes have.  Really, we wanted a privacy fence just across the back (west) fence.  Well, our city, Dearborn doesn't allow privacy fencing taller than four feet.  Although we are not tall people, four feet didn't quite provide the privacy we were hoping for.
I'll tell you a little secret, we spent a good bit of time considering just putting up that six foot fence anyway.  We drove around and pointed out people with six foot fences in their yards.  We told one another that if a neighbor put up a six foot fence on the property line, we would be grateful.  We talked to lots of people who told us to go ahead and do it.  We decided to do it.  Then we decided not to do it.  Then I decided to write a very long story about it that would leave you wondering what makes you read this blog instead of doing something exciting like watching paint dry.
This is why we don't make impulsive decisions, we then impulsively change our minds.
So here's what we came up with.  Hello?  Are you still there?
We decided on a largish patio and behind it a berm.  A berm is an actual landscaping type term.  How do ya like that?  So the Mr. took the displaced dirt from the patio and built a berm, which looked like someone had buried Goliath in our back yard.  So then I made fun of the berm and Donny laid on it to warm his belly and Mac stomped it down and said, "Oh dad!"
Finally it was brought under control and the Mr. and Mac built a retaining wall around it and we all rested and said, "It is good."  And it was.
That was last summer and now it's time for the next phase and the stunning reveal of our final privacy fence decision.
We are indeed putting in a six foot privacy fence but we are moving it up a few feet away from the fence so as not to violate the city's code.  The fence will be the back drop directly behind the berm leaving a hidden walk way behind it and also, a place for Donny to run in pursuit of squirrels and so that the neighbors can still reach over the fence to give him cookies.
When the fence is done (in the next few weeks,) we'll start landscaping the berm.  I imagine that other than a few annual flowers that will be the extent of our yard budget this year.  We had planned on putting in a small water feature but that will probably be rescheduled to the 2013 plan. 
This weekend we did some cleaning up of the space.  The Mr. put in the fence posts.  Donny dropped several balls into the holes and may have lost a few when the Mr. set the poles in cement.  Consider it a time capsule.
We may be in year four, but every spring I'm so happy with the next phase of our plan.  On Saturday evening when our list of chores was finally done, the clouds blew aside on gentle winds and the sun was warm and bright and it was just exactly the way I remember the yard feeling when my grampa used to tend it.  Do you ever have those sentimental moments?  It made the work and the plans and the patience required a little sweeter because it made me think about another bunch of grandchildren running around this yard and sitting at a picnic table snapping green beans.  I can picture it, generations upon generations seeing the same sky. 


Starting the day, fire pit and chairs have been in use for a while.



Sitting on the back porch, look closely...you can see the berm and the fence posts!




Looking at side of garage from picnic table. 




Old water pump the Mr. got me at the antique store Up North.  Ceramic chickens that used to be on The Farm.




Bird feeder at the corner of the patio.




Bird bath



I like it.

Happy Mother's Day!

I've always secretly envied those moms who, with great purpose and intention, are the very picture of grace and gentleness.  I myself fell headlong into motherhood after looking at my husband and thinking, "Well, why not?"  Hardly a verse for a Mother's Day card.
Six months after the birth of my Why not? baby I was expecting again.  This time, looking at my husband and thinking, "Good grief, we need to watch more television."
All these years later, I have no photographs of sweet baby bumps or little baby feet held in daddy's hands. 
What I have are memories of knowing how to do what I had no idea how to do; be a mom.
I have what I have always had, a sureness in my soul that I could do this.
I come from a long line of women who respected no boundaries when it came to their children and grandchildren.  Who are touchers and scolders and cooks and prayer warriors.  And who were rarely the very picture of grace and gentleness.
I inherited a mother's heart that laughs with her children until she cries and who makes a home whose walls wrap its sons and daughters in a tight embrace.  No gentleness in the way we hold our babies.
If my wishes are granted, there will be more little ones running across my back yard and picking flowers with chubby grubby hands and looking up to see a fortress surrounding their little lives in the form of mama and daddy and gramma and grampa and great gramma and grampa...and their little spirits will settle within them, peaceful and happy.
They will have to settle for undignified laughter instead of graceful sweetness.  They will learn to be held tightly instead of gently.
Thank you Mom (who I often call Pat just for irritation's sake,) for teaching me to be a mom.
Happy Mother's Day.