Basic Hand Stitches for Beginners

Basic Hand Stitches for Beginners

Crossstitch

It only took me several years to finish it- on again, off again- and it’s done!

Turtles & tortoises have personalities?

I didn’t grow up with animals. We had one dog, Tippy, growing up, but that was all. We were pretty much suburban small-ish city kids. After my husband and I got married I bugged him until we got a dog. She was a rescue. A naughty rescue. But we liked her and learned about Cairn terriers. A bit.
After we had to put her down when she had liver failure, we bought a black lab puppy. Remember my bio? Slightly idealistic? Well, I’m a little more than slightly. I imagined a gentle, calm, sweet black lab milling around with my children as we happily homeschooled among the daisies and butterflies. The reality was that I was too busy and too tired to read up on how to train a puppy so she was a bit unruly. For four years.
We loved her for seven years and tried to take care of her Addison’s disease for two of her last years. We had to make the hard decision to put her down when the meds just weren’t working. I’d like to say I was the perfect mother for my youngest child who adored Olivia, but I broke down and couldn’t take her in to be put to sleep. My dear husband did it for me with our daughter in tow.
After several years we took in a stubborn, yappy pug. We loved Max, but he needed and wanted his people to be home more often doting on his every whim. A good friend connected us with a lovely woman who treats him like the prince he thinks he is. And I’m so happy for him.
So what about the reptiles? I’ve been involved in Place-based Ecology Education for several years and teach elementary school kids. I heard of some box turtles who needed a foster home. Of course I volunteered. Carol introduced me to three teaching turtles who I called Gulf, Three-toe, and Ornate named after their particular sub-species. (Carol let me know since they are teaching turtles they were not named. She is a wise science teacher as you will see later.)
I learned that turtles do indeed have personalities. Gulf is shy and doesn’t want to be bothered. Three-toe is between 90-110 years old so she just wants to be left alone to eat her favorite food, worms. Ornate was sweet and friendly. She used to follow me around the classroom after the kids were gone for the day. I remember one time she actually walked towards me and looked up at me.

One year I decided to hatch chicks in the classroom. It was my first experience with chicks, never mind incubating eggs. It was a lot of work. It was too much heartache. Not all of them chicks made it.
One morning I walked into the classroom and I saw Ornate next to the sliding glass door of the aquarium. She looked horrible. Her head, eyes, and legs were twice the size they normally were. I looked at her and went to get the custodian who is an animal person down to his bones. When I got back with him, she had her eyes closed. She died. I know it sounds crazy, but I think she was waiting for me that morning before she died. I was so overcome thinking about the chicks and how I could have done a better job taking care of them and now here was Ornate who was obviously sick. Did I do something wrong? I was sobbing when my teaching homie walked into the room. It was difficult to explain why I was so upset over a turtle.
This year another daughter gave me her Russian tortoise, Sherbie. Her personality is similar to Ornate’s except Sherbie is sassier than Ornate. One day she was sitting on top of the half log in her terrarium looking up at me. It doesn’t sound like much, but to me, I get to love a tortoise who reminds me of Ornate.
Yesterday my husband found a frog on the cover of our swimming pool. Now we have an amphibian! Who’s as blessed as we are?

The Year 2017

The school year was filled with the marvelous, the horribly challenging, but never the mundane. After much reflection, there was so much need and turmoil there wasn’t time for much of anything else. Most of the year I seemed to be in “survival mode” plus “what more can I do for student a, b, c, d, e, and f? What else haven’t I tried? Do you remember the amusement park game Whack-A-Mole? That was what the school year was like. One student or family need or challenge would pop up and as soon as it would be taken care of, another one or two, or three would leap up. I’m not kidding.

Then there were three significant family crises. One for each season: fall, winter, and spring.

There were many sweet moments with family, students, colleagues, church family, and friends. There were soft, kind encouraging moments with Jesus. I just didn’t record them like I usually do.

The question I ask myself now is, could I have done a better job than I did? Did I show God’s love to others as much I as could have? My type A- personality says, “Really, you didn’t do enough.” My super supportive husband says, “You did your best and it was enough.” What does God think? Fortunately, Robin Mark wrote a song for just these sort of occasions, called, “When it’s all been said and done.” (I’ve tried multiple times to link the song here. I’ve even googled how to do it a few times. It’s not working, but, like the subject of this post, we press on. Please listen to the song on YouTube. The lyrics and the music are hauntingly beautiful.)

I had a sweet, refreshing time all alone today. I looked through my journal today and saw there were no entries from October through April. I noticed the last blog post on this site was in 2016. I organized all my crafting supplies and projects and noticed there were many I want to finish. And start.

I spent too much time on social media this year. But some of it was good. I connected with acquaintances and now know them a bit better than before. Many people shared prayer requests on Facebook. There are many Twitter accounts and Facebook pages that share God’s word. That’s always good. So very good.

You know what got me through? The prayers of God’s people. My husband’s prayers. My mother’s prayers. My daughter’s prayers. My church family’s prayers. My friend’s prayers. God’s church, God’s people are one of his greatest blessings. I am thankful and humbled by the love they continually show.

MNR Custom LLC

Hillsong United - There Is Nothing Like...

Friends

The thing about friends is that you want to be with them. At the least, they are fun to be around. At the most, they are family. The best people we know on our planet.
My friends are gracious, kind, supportive, understanding, funny, smart, kind, warm, generous, and loving.

Realistically, they are probably just like the rest of humanity; weak, short-tempered, annoying, petty, selfish, and the like. But I don't see it. I just don't see it.
I do see glimpses of people with complex stories and wounds. I see God-given strengths that sometimes are taken to the extreme and become a little unbalanced. But these small things are overshadowed by all the other gifts they have.

What does all of this mean? It means I am blessed. I have a good extended family. Really good. I have a small family- husband, four daughters, two (almost three) sons-in-laws, and two grandsons who are the apples of my eye. I have friends who love me and I love them. I have dear, close friends who are as precious as my family. What a rich, rich life.

What's for breakfast?

Some days all you need is coffee with honey and milk and a piece of lightly browned toast. But, the toast should have a good amount of real butter spread fairly evenly to all four corners. Maybe the honey in the coffee is enough sweetness for that particular day so the saltiness of the butter and the crunchy tenderness of the toast is fine.

Some mornings butter and honey is needed, depending on how many sweets you had the day before. There's just something about how the melted butter and the honey make just the right moistness-to-toast-crunchiness ratio.

Once in a while the day calls for a hearty jam. Not jelly, which is pretty much just sugary fruit juice that is thick enough to set up. No, it should to be jam with real chunks of apricot, whole blueberries, or bits of strawberries. It's the tangy flavor that makes the difference. Not sour. Not sweet. Tangy.

There are days when you need the protein of an egg plus the salt and pepper that go with it. There are waffle and pancake days too. But the best kind of mornings are the just-coffee-and-toast days.

Dancing

Have you ever seen a toddler dance? They bend their knees almost in time with the music. The cuteness factor is pretty much off the charts. But when you think about it, it's astonishing how the urge to dance is engrained into the youngest of our kind. Why is that?

There's something about a catchy bass line or a strong beat. Is it akin to a strong steady heartbeat? Is it a reminder of the strength of a loving father's heart or the sound of our mother's heart when we spent months in the womb?

Is it like a call to attention such as war drums or the march of the drum and fife? Is it a reminder of our instinctive desire for a passionate life and intense joy? Whatever it is, if most of us have a chance and the freedom to be uninhibited for a few minutes, we'll begin to tap our feet. Then we might clap our hands. That might, just might, lead to a burst of actually bending some limbs, swaying to the rhythm, or bobbing our heads.

What would it be like to have the joy and the mental freedom to dance like a toddler dances when the music hits us just right? What if we threw back our heads, threw out our arms, and twirled like preschool children? Would we be more joyful in general if we let ourselves experience joy in that way?

What if we began at home, alone? What if found the lyrics to our favorite songs and belted them out as loud as we wanted to and didn't worry about how it sounds? I guess we could start there. When did we decide that we need to dance and sing like professionals to do those things? Wouldn't it be fun to begin again?

The Vessel

It's a plain Jane 2007 Toyota Corolla. All it has is air-conditioning and a CD player. It even has window cranks. The driver side front door doesn't "catch" anymore so you'd better hold onto it when opening or the car next to you will feel it. And I love it. It's just small enough to feel like you're zooming in and out of traffic on an important mission instead of doing errands around town. It's the first car that I've bought that's not a conservative color. It's a nice warm red. Not candy-apple high school red, just red.

My husband and I have taken it on mini-adventures all around New England. It's been to New York state multiple times. It's been to Minnesota (24 hours away from our home) about four times now. And it's been all over Vermont and New Hampshire for years.

I think it's my favorite car since we've been married which has been just a tad over thirty years. It's sturdy, reliable, and simple. It fits well.

I can see taking it north to Canada to explore the beauty of that generous country. I can also see taking it southwest to the beaches in Mexico. Either one would be fine with me.

Even though it's a friendly, happy little car, I would leave it home for a chance to spend a summer driving around Scotland, England, Wales, Ireland, or France. I would take lots of pictures of the countryside and the regular people who live in these places. I would love to sit and drink tea or coffee and nibble whatever kind of bread or scone or biscuit that was offered and listen to the people talk to one another. My traveling journal would continually be in my hand, I think. I would long for a greater vocabulary to describe the richness and beauty of the people and countries.

I think it would make me long for heaven. There are moments, tastes of blissful longing when I see a picture of open fields and golden summer light. The perfectness of a landscape with the summer sounds of grasshoppers, crickets, or cicadas squeeze my heart inside my chest with a longing so intense that the tears prick my eyes with a fierce, "if only." Truly, truly creation reflects it's Maker. Beautiful, grand, unexplainable, perfection. Some day.

It would be fun to drive a small European car. To try to get the feel of it as we explore the back roads and whatever comes along. Which countries drive on the left side of the road? That would take me awhile to get used to. In fact, there would probably be a couple of near head-on collisions as my mind (and the car) drifted from the present to the other ideas that pop into my head continually.

Still, I am content with my Corolla and the little previews of heaven here in the slice of the world called New England. For now.

Unrequited love poem

You give me hope
In your glances my way
You catch my eye
When you walk this way

Act like nuzzling
Is the on your mind
Then dart from the couch
Fickleness most unkind

Watering you faithfully
Feeding you tastefully
Most times for nought
Surely I won't stop

My motives mixed
Love that you're fixed
Feline actions better
Than the care and fetter

Of a dog

Weather Outside the Window

365 days of Creative Writing Day 1
Highland Garden

I wish I could remember the names of clouds. I would be able to list the names and that would be that. I see white and gray low-hanging poofy clouds slowly moving to the south. But in the foreground, I see seven foot tall Mexican sunflowers standing in our front yard garden. Right in front of them are dark and light pink and white cosmos just a few feet shorter than the sunflowers. A dozen tomato plants pepper the area. Four of them were purposefully planted, but the rest were "volunteers" as my farmer grandmother used to say. (Not being vigilant about harvesting tomatoes last year we let some stay where they lay until it was time to rotatill the next spring.)

The delicate-looking California poppies barely made it. Our plants need to be hearty to stay alive most years. They are beautifully shaded white, seventies smiley face yellow, and pink. Their petals are usually tentatively closed, but velvety and pretty.

The multi-colored bachelor buttons have long since passed. They were the first bloomers this spring. The earliest were volunteers from last year's bunch, but other periwinkle, dusty pink, and purple buttons came from the seeds I planted this year.

The potted red flowers eventually came back after a few days of setting the frog sprinkler in the midst of the tomato plants. (I've forgotten what type of flowers they are and I rarely get red ones, but the they look so pretty in the olive ornamental planter I dragged over from the backyard cement pool deck.

I guess this was a summer for trying new things. Not many flowers for the backyard and a bigger variety of flowers and vegetables for the front yard.

Satisfaction and a comfortable calmness comes over me when I look or work in our weedy patch of wilderness. If I would just remember to water it more often and pick the vegetables before they expire, it would be even better. Next year.

When I was Eleven

I wanted to be Nadia Comaneci. She was the big deal back when I was a kid. My family watched the 1976 Summer Olympics faithfully. It didn't matter that I was a bit overweight or had never taken a gymnastics class. That was my wish. Someday.
Nadia was cute with her dark, short ponytails. She was darling and daring. She was fit and muscular. She moved effortlessly. She was everything I wasn't or thought I wasn't.
My dad and stepmom encouraged my little sister and me as we did cartwheels and round offs over and over in their front yard. That was the extent of our tumbling skills and they weren't very pretty, but the way my stepmom was sincerely delighted at our antics was edifying.
It took 'way too long for me to realize that everything has a price. You have to work for muscles, smarts, skills, etc. Somehow I didn't connect ability with persevering effort. Of course, I know I could have worked at gymnastics for years and years and never even be able to do a round-off handspring, but I am thinking about the other things in life that requires hard work and persistent struggle.
I don't know whether it's the idealist in me, the naivete, or laziness that didn't connect hard work and achievement. Perhaps it was the perfectionist in me that kept me back from trying things from fear of failure. Whatever it was, it took an either-or situation to fuel the fire of I'm-so-doing-this spirit under my feet or my tush. (I love a little yiddish thrown into a story.)
It took seven years of one-college-class-per-semester, raising a family, and a full-time job, to get a degree and a teaching certificate. Now I am teaching elementary school students. It has been a ride, let me tell you! I love it and, at times, hate it. I am grateful for the opportunity to work with children, most days. But looking back through all the delights and all-I-want-to-do-is-scream-my-guts-out, (mostly from my interactions with adults) I remember the moment I knew I was going back to college. I was driving over the bridge that spans the Sugar River between Broad Street and Washington and thought, "Now I will be someone."
At that exact moment, my beautiful, gracious Father God, said to my heart, "Who are you?"
He was reminding me that I am His and He is mine. He is my Beloved One and I am His. So much grace.
That truth is beyond being a professional, a teacher, a successful whatever, or even a beautiful, young Olympic champion. It has been an indescribable life journey from feeling rejected, ugly, and insignificant (even when there were people who loved me-- but that's another tale) to knowing I am deeply, irrevocably loved by the God of the Universe who does not ever change His mind. He does love me and always will. Eleven-year-old self, keep going. Don't give up. Your Champion is there. You just don't see Him yet.
There are so many paradoxes in God's kingdom. Work and grace. Perseverance and rest. Remember what He has done and forget what is behind. I appreciate the complexity and the simplicity of my God more and more knowing I will never fathom his ways, because I know He is good.

All the Same to Him

All the Same to Him


Gifts or weakness
They're all the same to God
He can use it all for good
Just be the Church

Nobody would choose
the way He works
Wisdom looks like foolishness
But faith says
Who would you trust
God, self, or others?

Gifts and brokenness
All for His glory
All for the Kingdom
King Abba, good Papa

Trust in the Father
Not your weary heart
His name is Faithful
His name is Truth
Discover who he made you to be
Be, just be

Nobody would choose
the way He works
Wisdom looks like foolishness
But love says
Trust Jesus, trust the One
The One Who knows your heart

I Only Dance in Church

Why do I dance?

Beautiful glory
I feel the passion of Your heart
Feel the beat of Your heart

The only time,
I only dance in church

No words, there are no words
to speak of Your beauty

A part of me understands
the strength and breadth of Your love

And it comes out when
it's time to dance in church
Faithful, soul-shaking beat
The beat of a Good Father's heart
for me
for me
for me and for you

Do you feel the Father's heart?
Will you receive the Father's
pure and tender touch?
He is waiting, gently, patiently
Waiting for a chance to dance

Praise Him with a dance
The dance of the grateful
His pleasure is in His people
The Father enjoys His children

The only time,
I only really dance in church
Faithful, spirit-shaking beat
The beat of a Good Father's heart
for me
for me
for me and for you

The 20 Best Things about Christmas

1. Thinking about what to make or buy for others
2. O Holy Night lyrics
3. Blue Outdoor Christmas lights-- every time I look at them I become instantly peaceful
4. Hanging up Christmas tree ornaments and remembering...
5. Eggnog
6. Having homemade Orange Julius on Christmas morning
7. Wondering which daughter will be the first one awake on Christmas morning. (They are all grown up and still wake us up before 6:00 a.m.)
8. Watching others open their presents
9. Homemade fudge with walnuts
10. Huge, fluffy, slow-falling snowflakes
11. Pinning new Christmas ideas on Pinterest
12. Reading the story of Christ's birth and being amazed in the humble, profound wisdom of God's plan for rescuing the world
13. Our annual gingerbread roadkill cookie contest-- I have no idea how this started, but it gets grosser every year :)
14. Christmas stocking gifts
15. Christmas music-- especially songs by Ray Charles
16. Watching "It's a Wonderful Life"-- great movie and Jimmy Stewart is the man!
17. Wearing Christmas jewelry at school
18. Working on our "Light of the World" puzzle-- Simeon's facial expression when first seeing the Messiah is beyond moving. The verse on the puzzle says it all, "For my eyes have seen your salvation which you have prepared in the sight of all nations: a light for revelation to the Gentiles, and the glory of your people Israel.”
19. Ham gravy and mashed potatoes for Christmas dinner
20. The new year is just around the corner with all kinds of wonderful possibilities

20 Reasons I am a Christian

1. There is nothing and no one who brings profound peace like Jesus
2. Jesus never changes; yet, there is always more to learn about Him
3. God is faithful
4. God is patient beyond what I understand
5. God not only loves me, He enjoys me
6. Creation reflects God's glory and His glory blows my mind!
7. Holy Spirit is the most creative force in heaven or on Earth
8. He is my Friend
9. He is my Beloved One
10. He loves me when I am weak and when I'm strong in Him
11. He is God, Creator of Heaven and Earth
12. He is a good Father
13. He is kind
14. He is generous
15. He is not a tyrant
16. He is worthy of all my love, affection, and devotion
17. He is like no one else who ever was or who ever will be
18. He is staggeringly beautiful
19. He is THE Poet; the Word
20. He is Truth

20 Reasons Teaching is the Bomb

1. Watching kids run on the tops of huge snow piles at winter recess
2. Making anchor charts
3. Reading students' stories
4. Markers, pens, pencils, sticky notes
5. Read-alouds after recess
6. Field trips
7. Science Notebooks
8. Pizza celebrations in the classroom
9. Art projects
10. Scholastic book order boxes with my name on it in the school office!
11. Planning for the next year
12. Hopes/dreams for the next school year
13. Big, satisfying piles of corrected student work
14. 3rd grade drawings of most anything
15. Bites of chocolate eaten directly after school
16. 2nd, 3rd, and 4th cups of coffee
17. Decorating the classroom before school starts for the year
18. Introducing students to School House Rock clips on Youtube and singing along!
19. Seeing the "lightbulb go on" during a lesson
20. 3rd graders enthusiasm for learning

Roots, part 4

Great Aunt Lakie loved my mom's name because it was the name of a real-life princess. Mom never went by Meg or Maggie or anything except for Margaret or Margaret Rose.
My mom's mother, Grandma Smith, told me more than once that mom was, "as independent as a hog on ice," which is a typical vivid saying from Grandma.
My mom was born and raised on a wheat and cattle farm in eastern Colorado. It's a wonder, really, why God decided to place her in a farming family. She doesn't like to sweat and I don't remember her doing much physical work except for cleaning and organizing. (But if cleaning and organizing was an Olympic event, she would win it hands-down every four years for decades, then become a coach for the U.S. She is that amazing.) Mom said the few times she tried to help Grandpa on the farm, it usually ended with Grandpa saying, "Margaret, go to the house."

Mom's house was always immaculate. Always. When my sister and I were older she would work all day doing administrative things at her job then come home to us asking her what she was making for dinner before she had her coat off. She made down-home food and it was always good--she even made left-overs taste good.
On the weekends she did everybody's laundry. She even ironed our jeans. Everything she did was neat and organized and I learned how to work hard by watching Mom. That is a huge gift.
Mom has a gift of discernment and wisdom along with her administrative gift. She can "read" people well and is usually spot-on. Truly, I should have listened to her more, but the independent-as-a-hog-on-ice thing didn't skip a generation.
The greatest thing about Mom is that she loves her children and grandchildren with all of her heart. She has always done her very best for us and her best is pretty darn good. She has shown me what it is to be a mother. I know I get my strong mothering instinct from her and I am ever so grateful for it especially when I see so many younger people struggle in this area because it has not been modeled for them. I am so grateful to Mom for that.
Mom was and always is a lady. She oozes dignity and decorum. And she has a good sense of humor which she has taught me is something truly important.
I use some of Mom's saying often. My favorites are, "It's the little things in life" and "You get what you pay for." It turns out that Mom was right about a lot of things. I am sincerely proud to have a princess and a farmer's daughter for a mother. I love her with all of my heart.

Roots 3

My dad is unforgettable. He is just himself. He tells it like it is with plenty of spice, and yet, he has the heart of a poet.
Don't get me wrong, he did try to hit a squirrel with a 9-foot pole two summers ago because of his loathing of the city dwellers, but I've seen him tear up when we were visiting my then 90+-year-old grandmother. He saw the woman he used to know (his ex-mother-in-law) who once had all the energy and spunk in the world using a walker and needing help to get to the bathroom.
He told me a story of when he was a young man working in a nursing home. There was a grouchy old man who didn't want anybody else to move him except Dad and no wonder. Dad would quickly pick him up and matter-of-factly fold his legs in a sitting position before lowering him in his wheelchair. The poor old man hurt when he was handled without the firm, quick movements that Dad made.
There was another time he was working in a parking garage in Denver. There was a stray dog who got himself stuck in the ticket exit area of the garage. The dog was scared, and, of course, put up a fight when Dad tried to get him out of the situation. So Dad grabbed him with one arm and and grabbed his snout with the other hand so the dog wouldn't bite. As he was taking the dog out of the parking garage a woman stopped her car and stared at him appalled at his treatment of the dog. The woman just didn't know the whole story, that's all.
When Dad was a boy he worked in the sugar beet fields with his father and brothers. They all worked very hard. He told me that he won't eat green sweet peppers to this day because one hot summer day he was so hungry while working in the field, he ate green peppers until he was sick. He told me he used to walk along the river and look for a stone that was perfectly round, but he never found one.
He used to take my little sister and me to visit my great grandfather, my grandmother, and other members of his family before and after he and my mom were divorced. All of his life he has showed me how to respect and honor older people. That is a gift.
I appreciate the way Dad has always respected me as an adult even when I was a stupid 21-year-old. (I was an adult, I just wasn't acting like it.)
Dad curses like a sailor, still flies into a rage when he can't find something he is looking for, but he is the most genuine Christian I know. There is nothing religious about his love for Jesus.
If you have ever listened to the lyrics to "Oh How He Loves Us" (Jesus Culture edition), there is a phrase that says, "So heaven meets earth like a sloppy wet kiss; And my heart turns violently inside of my chest; I don't have time to maintain these regrets; when I think about the way; He loves us, O, how He loves us!" The song is talking about the heart of the Father and of Jesus for us. One time I was listening to the song and the phrase "sloppy wet kiss" reminded me of how obnoxious Dad's kisses on our cheeks were when we visited him. He gave us sloppy wet kisses to show how much he loved us. That was also a gift because it also showed me how affectionate God's love is for me. I got a 2-for-1 revelation on the love of a (F)father that day.
I love talking about the Word of God with Dad. I'm pretty sure I got my idealist and poetic bent from him. He is real and he is just himself.