Fa la la la la not.

Shhhh! It’s sleeping.

I’m not ready. The turkey soup is not made yet. I haven’t found time to clean the house and decorate. I come home from work to fix dinner, do my charting and then FLOP. The idea of wrestling down boxes and bins is unappealing, to say the least.

But I’m just not ready to put up the tree and all the lights.

I’m not ready to find the crèches and the stockings for display.

I’m especially not ready for every nasal, scoop-noted pop star butchering carols on store Muzak everywhere. (There oughta be a law…)

I’m not ready. I’m tired. And just a little bit grumpy.

So, Lord, prepare my heart. Make the rough places smooth. Ease the darker moments with filtered-down Light. Send Your Love. Send your Peace. And lift my eyes to see the Joy of Heaven.

Allelu. Amen.

Whine Mode

Kneepain. Deb’s knee with an ice pack on it.
Ice pack on/off. Stretch. Exercise. Repeat.

I’m not happy. (Just being honest!)

Despite following orders, taking meds, doing physical therapy exercises, acupuncture, listening to my body, using all the herbs and tinctures, following a modified yoga practice, and the RICE protocol… it’s clear that my achy-breaky-knee will need more assertive treatment.

So… I’m having an arthroscopic procedure on March 11th, and will have to take some time off work. I have health insurance, and even disability if I need it! I have great support from family and friends. I have comfy positioning pillows and crutches. I have people already praying for me!

It’s a common procedure. The results will help with a better plan forward and (hopefully) avoid anything drastic.

But I’ve been in “whine mode” pretty much all day.

Even with the loveliness of a March snow falling outside my window. I’m whining. Even with the support and love of my spouse. I’m whining. Even while I had time to do some sewing, some reading, and then a holy nap… I’m whining.

I know all shall be well. This too shall pass. Yadda yadda. I’ll get over myself. I promise. But for right now, I’m whining.

That’s real life. Real struggle. Real feelings. And a very Real Presence walking through it all with me. Even… when I’m whining.

Dear Spell-check


Dear Spell Check,

           (Spellcheck? spellcheck?  spelcheck? spellczech?)

You and I are gonna come to blows. You done did it this time!

My last name has only ONE “a”.

“Maryland” is one word and no, I don’t want “Merry Land”.

That thing in her nose is a “nasal cannula” not a “nasal cannoli”… (wouldn’t THAT be messy!)

And I won’t even discuss what you did to turn “IRS” into “ARSE”! Seriously?

Here’s to you checking more carefully, and my being properly caffeinated before I send out my next document.

Your humbly (embarrassed) servant,



P.S. My family reminded me of  one of my greatest miss-texts. It was the time that I was text-nagging a daughter to get her annual flu shot. Except that Siri, in all of her wisdom, changed “flu shot” to “fly shit.” I’ll never live that one down.

Keeping life weird. One day at a time. 

This week #2 Daughter and I made applesauce.  And applebutter. And canned them. 

We have tested them both. They. Are. DELISH!!! 

Now that you’ve stopped drooling…

Our efforts in preparing to can them were hampered by the fact I couldn’t find the canner! (Nor all of the canning rings and lids. But I digress.)

This evening, my bearded spouse found the bin we had ALL looked right past. Because on the outside it was labeled:

And yes. On the inside?

All the swear words. All of them. 

I’m sure I’ll use this as a sermon illustration for Luke 15 some time. At the moment, I’m too busy laughing at myself. 

Just keeping life weird around here, one day at a time. 

Beauty at the Beach

Beauty at the Beach

It’s a place that speaks through its silence and its beauty,
in the riot of colors and variety of vegetation
in the changes of humidity and the intensity of the heat
in the opportunity for rest and silence…
For these and many other reasons,
I enjoy our trips to the ocean.
In a place that is “home” and yet not.

God is louder
the world fades
and relationships that matter are closely in focus.

I go home a little sunburnt
a little travel weary
and deeply blessed.

May these photos take you to a safe and lovely place
in your mind
and in the presence of One
Who knows and loves us all.

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These photos were taken at Harbor Island, SC and Hunting Island, SC in 2014 and 2015. 

Ants in the Coffeepot (and other things that make me crazy)

IMG_0460-0For the last week or so, we have spotted ants on the kitchen counter. It was usually after a heavy rain, and it’s also as the weather begins to cool. We thought it was just the periodic foragers for fall, and made our usual precautions: moved the sugar bowl off the counter, put the honey bear in a water moat, and were scrupulous about cleaning the counters. We put out a few random “ant traps” but didn’t cover things with chemicals. This is, after all, where I prepare food!

This week the ants were busier, and there was a “line” of them. Stopping and “talking” in “ant code” and then bustling on back to their terminus, we would clean a few off the counter and go about our day. We kept looking for home base but didn’t find it. The usual suspects (the compost bucket and the honey bear) were carefully monitored. Last night I thought I had found the nest – under my African violet. I quickly rinsed the pot, moated it and went to bed, feeling victorious.

HUZZAH! No more ants!

(You know where this is going, don’t you?)

This morning, as Bearded Brewer was on his daily inspection and sleuthing of the ants, he moved the coffee pot. Lo and hehold, ants came streaming out of the back of the coffee pot! It’s the kind of pot that has a reservoir and a “cup-at-a-time” dispenser. And apparently, the dark, heated spot was ideal for warmth-seeking ants. He quickly poured his as yet uncaffeinated spouse a cup of coffee, and then moved the coffeepot outside.

I went to look at the pot. The bottom and inside were COVERED with ants! Not the part where the coffee brews or the reservoir where it is stored. Just all up underneath in the “guts” of the heating element and the wiring. I couldn’t wash it, and I didn’t want to put ant poison on it. Coffee with ant spray just doesn’t cut it.IMG_0459

This morning I’m going to buy a new coffeepot. I’m also going to call the refrigerator repair place and find out when they can come fix the ice-maker which is ( — correction — WAS) spraying water all over the kitchen wall, onto the floor.

Then I think I will solve one of the biggest mysteries of the universe: why cats always hork a hairball at least twice, and ALWAYS in the middle of the step. On carpet.

It’s the random little events that make me nuts. Not the big crises. I seem to be able to rise to the moments of greatest need for myself or those I care about.

But the jerk on the Beltway that cuts me off? Ants in my coffeepot? Hork on the basement steps? A busted refrigerator waterline? THOSE nibble at my patience and scrape away at my self-indulgence. And they are minuscule inconveniences in the grand scheme of things.

May we each remember what matters and get upset by the things which are world-changing. Despite my desire for morning caffeination, ants in the coffeepot doesn’t make the list.