He says I could tear up a steel ball.

My husband often says I could tear up a steel ball. Well, I simply like to know how things work. What makes them tick. I have trouble turning something loose if I haven't figured it out. 

I had my Roomba floor vacuum only a few days when my husband came  home to find it in pieces on the table. "What are you doing? Have you torn it up already?"

 
I have not! This is a planned tear down. It needed a little TLC. 
We bought it used and it needed a little cleaning.  I noticed it wasn't rolling smoothly across the floors. I removed the roller ball on the front, sanded with fine grit sandpaper and it's smooth as a baby's behind.

"You better know where all those screws go," he said. Again, I'm an old hand at removing things and I'm too OCD to do it all willy-nilly.. please, I know what I'm doing. 

I actually tear things apart quite often and sometime not deliberately. 

I will admit it seems like I break things more than most. I don't know what it is? I just have something in my hand and bam! It's broken. Don says that I'm not careful, I think I'm careful.

I think things are not made to last as they should be. 

There was the RV refrigerator door handle. Broke it. We were camping, I was opening the refrigerator while getting dinner ready and the handle snapped off in my hand. That RV was almost ten years old and of course they no longer made that model of handle. It only took four months to find the correct replacement. We had ordered two different handles thinking each was the correct replacement, only to end up sending them back. Don decided to go to the store, 300 miles to our south, to assure he had the correct handle. 

Ever try to pull an RV 300 miles without a working handle on the refrigerator? It gets complicated. 
My gray-haired "MacGyver" rigged that door with a piece of cord, a short board and a bungee tie to the surrounding cabinets. I was amazed! Although he kind of developed a little "attitude" while doing it. We drove down to the beach for a few days, ran by and picked up the handle. When he got it on the refrigerator, he dared me to touch it. Seriously, he didn't let me touch the refrigerator door until I followed his little tutorial. He has issues. 

There was the emergency brake on his truck. Yep, broke that. Wait.. that would be two trucks. Both of his last two Dodge trucks. I pulled the emergency brake to release and broke the handle on both. He used a nylon string on the old truck for the last year he drove it. Just pull the string and the brake released. Apparently, those things are very flimsy made. Seriously, nothing is made to last anymore.   

I replaced three coffee carafes on my coffee maker before I decided maybe glass was not for me. Now I have a nice stainless steel one.
What I can't figure out is why "breaking" is almost always on my husbands things. It is not like I do it on purpose. It just happens- like the hand brake on his bicycle. He rode the bike for two days while camping. I get on his bike for five minutes and you know it! I snapped that bad boy right off. I figure I saved him from sure injury on a ride down a hillside somewhere. I believe he needed a new cable before I rode his stupid bike. I may very well have been set up. 

Then, I was cutting grass and this happened. Yeah, that would explain the gaps and high spots in the yard. 

He came home and saw the blade on the front porch and said, "you did what? Who does that? What did you hit?"
I hit nothing, okay. 

I seem to have a gift, that's all. He put the bottom blade back on the mower after buying another nut and fitting because they were apparently somewhere in the yard. I am guessing the nut may have been loose, who knows?  He may or may not have been muttering under his breath the entire time he repaired it. 

I seem to recall my precious mother having the same "penchant" for accidents. Unlike myself, mama was not physically strong. She would think she was going to lift something and then get herself in a bind. Once she lifted the boat trailer (with the boat on it) she wanted to cut grass under it. She lifted, took a few steps and could not hold it. She dropped that hitch and it slide all the way down her leg. It left a nasty ten inch long gouge. I cleaned the wound and bandaged her up. I made her promise she would call me before any boats were moved.    

In her last few years on earth, mama's body was riddled with osteoporosis and dementia. Her body was small now, fragile and broken.  I could easily lift and move her wherever I needed. She would say, "you are so strong. I just can't believe it." 

There's a lesson in there you know? In this world when something breaks we throw it out. Discarding whatever we deem useless. We see "broken" as the end. 
God approaches brokenness differently. He allows great mercy and grace when we are broken, He binds us up. Then other times, things in us need to be broken for us to fulfil our purpose- pride, selfishness, sinful habits, hard hearts. 

But for Jesus, this would not be possible.

When breaking bread Jesus said, "this is my body, which is broken for you" 

God longs for us to come to Him where he can restore us. He gives new life from brokenness, every time. I pray we all surrender to God what is broken in us. His grace is sufficient. 

She planted so many seeds.

Mama called almost every morning, if I didn't call her first. If she were here, this mornings call would have been about Winters Solstice. She would have said, "It's December 21st, it's the shortest day of the year." No matter how old we were she always made sure we remembered. It was a love/hate relationship for her. Mama hated dark, she thrived on light. Today we would begin marking the days (and she counted every one) until Spring. 

Each morning her first steps were straight to the windows to let the light in. When her grandchildren were there she would read from the Childcraft about Winters Solstice and if they had questions, she reveled in answering them. Questions about earth were mama's specialty. Dirt, trees, blooms, how things worked and changed, the seasons and how people depended on the signs from animals and plants long before there were meteorologists to share their skills. 

Sometime the children would come home with little seeds in a old jar or cup to nurture and grow. I would almost swear the soil at mamas house was magic. It was rich and you could smell life in it. Often I would go get a bucket or two of soil from her house to mix into my soil when planting. Everything always grew better. 

Mama planted many seeds of love with my children, my nieces and nephews. Time spent with her was seldom idle and always filled with adventure. 

She would wait for a sunny day, put on a jacket and toboggan and go out in the yard to survey the trees, buds and plants. It makes winter go faster, she would say.
Mental notes were made as to what needed trimming, thinning or moving. Her mood lightened as she moved through the yard letting the sun hit her face. She was the most at home when outside. The most at peace. 

Weeks into winter in a casual conversation, she would say "the days are getting longer, I can finally see it now." Of course she meant sunlight was getting longer. I think she and Robert Frost would have gotten along. 

Soon would come the days of toiling in the earth watching things grow and bloom. There would be little snippets of sticks and flowers she would bring to plant in my yard. Phone calls about dutch iris and daylilies were our normal and I loved those conversations. I miss those conversations. She would spend a day looking for her legend we made on her iris colors and varieties. (I knew I should have kept up with it.) We tagged them w/different colored string or twist ties to identify them and she would have me move them to other parts of the yard, of course when blooms were long gone. She didn't allow moving unless the time was right. 

I still have those daylilies, irises, sweet william and forsythia. Her plum trees are here, some ready to be moved before long. An almond shrub sits near the walk coming into our home. I wait for it's blooms, they are one of my favorites.
There's a large Mock Orange from outside my childhood bedroom that will bloom with reckless abandon come late spring. The smell will permeate the air like fine perfume. When I smell it each year, tears fill my eyes and I am transported back to that little bedroom with the eyelet bedspread she carefully pressed and mended all my life. Early mornings she would slip into my room to crank the windows open where I woke to the smell of mock orange. Thank you Jesus, she planted so many seeds.   

Today, it's December 21st, shortest day of the year. Everything is brown outside but there is the promise of spring and it's just around the corner. I will let little hands help me just as my mother did. There are always seeds to plant. 

 

If the Lord lets me live until Spring.

It was something my mother prefaced every plan she ever made with.. "If the Lord lets me live until Spring."

She wasn't being morbid only proclaiming what she held as absolute truth. She was not perfect as none of us are but she shared her faith and lived it to the best of her ability. You see, my mother was a worrier by nature and she knew that was contrary to God's plan for us. She fretted over whether things were done on time and correctly, was there anyone near her who didn't have enough to eat or could not pay their bills? It bothered her and at times kept her up at night. Another close held belief- Love your neighbor. I can still smell the thick paper grocery bags pulled from the cabinet where they were neatly stored. [Mama was not a "neat" person by any means.] She wasn't dirty but she liked things where she could see them. She made sure those bags were stored neatly away to be reused. She would hand me a couple grocery bags and tell me to get a good variety of canned goods from the cabinet, take the other bag and get meat from the freezer in the old pump house outside. Daddy raised hogs, hunted and fished and other relatives raised cattle. There was always a full freezer. Those bags would quietly without fanfare make their way to an appreciative family in the community. Close held belief- do not boast. Mama and daddy learned valuable life lessons as children of the Great Depression and one of the greatest was to save for what you needed. Mama would put away a little money for Christmas gifts throughout the year, she would save money for a car before she needed a newer one. I remember how she often felt guilty for having new things. I think that came from such a hard childhood. Then daddy would tell her "Mary, we work very hard for what we have, you do not have to feel guilty." She needed to hear those words. I never heard her boast of anything except her grandchildren.

Mama believed her Bible to be the inherent Word of God, from cover to cover. Divinely inspired as she would tell you, by humans from the Holy Spirit of God.

Another close held belief from God's word- That He supplies grace for each day. Mama struggled with this one. It is hard not to look ahead and make plans, it's hard to "know" you are going to be okay, that you children will be okay, that the world will be okay. To think each morning when I rise God has prepared a path for me and no matter how insignificant I feel, He has a plan for me. He will equip me for whatever task lie ahead.

Every day has its appointed trouble. But never more than you can bear by his grace. Every day will have mercies that are new every morning — mercies sufficient for that day’s trouble (Lamentations 3:22–23.)

He will not expect any good deed from you for which he does not supply all the grace you need (2 Corinthians 9:8.) I can't imagine what mama would think of these days we live in but I do know what she would tell me. God never asks anything of you that he doesn't prepare you for. There is no problem on the face of the earth, He doesn't have an answer to. God provides for our needs daily and He only requires that we trust Him. He is the answer to all our fears and struggles, even in 2020. My mama and daddy believed this to be true and I'm so grateful they instilled it in each of us. Life is hard right now and times are uncertain but . . . If the Lord lets me live until Spring.

Ever find yourself in a place.... part 2. Healing comes in faith and time.

Wow, what a different place we were in only one short year ago. [Refer to reposted blog entry from March 2020 here.] God was preparing (us) for something incredibly hard and a long journey but the blessings along the way have been amazing.

What I remember most early last year was anxiety. However, God gave me the knowledge something was happening and He gave me time to prepare. Time to pray, to let the Holy Spirit intercede for me when I didn't even know what to ask for, time to understand what was ahead. I've never experienced anything this intense and deliberate before. Although Don experienced chest pains for more than a week before he told me, he did not have a heart attack or a stroke before hospitalization. From the cardiologist to the surgeon, to our primary care doctor, no one can explain it. But God. When you land in a situation like this you have no idea where to go for answers because you've never been here before. I began asking friends and relatives, researching on my own .. I received help from all over and the resounding answer over and over again was the surgeon and cardiologist we prayerfully chose.
You are lost and confused, then God. There was damage to my husbands heart, on the left side in addition to the five bypasses needed. (In the heart world it's called CABG X5. Coronary Artery Bypass Grafts. Yes, he needed 5 of them)
He entered the hospital via emergency on Sunday but before we could schedule surgery Don suffered what could only be described as two "tiny" strokes, one on each side. His only symptom was a weak hand for a few minutes. As neurology descended on his room, swarming like bees and took him for testing, I immediately resorted to my lifeline of friends to pray, for God to again intercede. I trust you Jesus.
Now we had to wait for surgery, his brain needed to heal. We actually went to the beach while we waited the five to six weeks before he could have his bypass surgery. I was not keen on vacationing at this time. We had conversations about it but looking back, I understand why he needed to go. Even though it was a super long week for me. Don said, we are going, I'm not worried. God provided again.

So today marks one year. One year since we calmly walked into the hospital hand in hand, trusting God supremely. In the weeks before surgery Don sat me down with all our important paperwork, he apologized for not having it all together before now. He wanted me to be secure, just in case. I know it sounds almost inhuman to say we were calm but God had given us both such peace. Don stated, If God allows me to survive, it's a win. If he takes me home, it's a win. I can't lose either way." He had his surgery with friends and family covering him in prayer across the globe. We had asked for prayers for the surgeon and team as well. This team assembled were diligent, observant, smart and so kind to us throughout. I felt each nurse had been hand picked for us, each day. From the first one in those early hours, explaining everything we needed to know, to the young man offering up dignity to my Don when he felt weak and scared. Even the sweet young nurse who received some of his wrath as he lay in that hospital bed in pain- she gave it right back to him but with kindness he had lacked in speaking to her. (a lesson he needed that day) He would later apologized profusely for his behavior. To the comedic relief explaining Don was a little overweight and would need to shake some bad habits.

Amazingly,

~There was no visible damage from the tiny strokes. ~When surgeries like his can take 5-7 hours for most, he was on the table only 2 and a half hours. ~Speaking to the surgeon after, I asked about the extent of the damage we were told was on the left side of his heart. He had to go back and get his notes to answer me. Looking confused, he said "there's no damage. His heart is remarkably strong, except for the blockages which are now taken care of. He is good Mrs Crossley, he's going to be fine." ~He healed quickly and his attitude was excellent. (We all know how men can be when sick or hurt but this time was different.) He did have trouble getting his physical condition back up because he had a knee which needed to be replaced and it was hindering his rehab. He could barely walk on it before bypass surgery. But his attitude toward healing was phenomenal. I believe it was god-given.
Eight days after surgery, Don is at home and I learn I have been exposed to strep throat. I ran to the doctor for a quick test because the last thing my heart patient needed was strep. The entire experience was God ordained. It was late on a Friday, the office is about to close. My doctor is gone for the day and I see another doctor. He tests me and palpates my throat. [I had my annual physical in October '18 w/no problems.] He states, "You do not have strep. Mrs Crossley, are you aware you have nodules on your thyroid?" I was not aware. I asked him "why did my doctor not find them in October?" He said, "Leisa, we each have our strengths. I may take an xray to him to assist me because he's better than I am at reading xrays. One of the strengths God gave me is expertise in my hands."
My doctor had not felt the nodules but this doctor did. Why? I know why. A couple weeks later I had an ultrasound and they identified a nodule on each side of my thyroid. The diagnosis a few months later would be papillary thyroid cancer.

The magnitude of God's continued protection over us has been the most humbling experience of our lives. We are flawed people who fail at every turn.. yet God. Don continued rehabilitation for his heart and with approval from his cardiologist had the knee repaired November 25th, 2019, exactly four months after heart surgery. He fought his way back month by month. Currently, he is doing as he pleases. We recently raced our bikes through a local campground.
He feels like camping again, he's working on home projects. We recently took a quick trip to the beach and he was able to play with grandchildren again. His knee is healed and he barely remembers the surgery, his heart is strong, he takes minimal medication compared to so many and we are FOREVER changed. None of us are promised another day but I am very thankful God has given us 365 more. Shields up.

. . . with love and grace.

We mourn the earthly loss of her and I can hardly believe it's been an entire year. When I say we, I mean her extended family and a multitude of friends.
Jesus feed more than 5000 on a hillside, Nancy Jane likely loved on more than that. There is no better example of christian love and grace, than the oldest daughter, middle child of Lora V and Herbert M Craft. Nancy Jane was a constant in my childhood and growing up, along with her younger sister Suzanne and older brother, David. We lived approximately five hours apart but managed to visit each other several times a year.

I cannot remember Nancy without remembering from where she came. Aunt Lora, my mothers older sister was a beautiful, strong woman with a drive and intellect that rivaled any man and she knew it. There was a side to Aunt Lora few may have seen. She had a soft spot for those who struggled, I believe her humble roots never left her. I know my mother loved her sister deeply but she also admired her, which said a great deal about who she was.
Many years ago mama shared this story with me. Laughing and enjoying sister time, they walked to the car on a particular grocery trip. Aunt Lora asked mama to get in the car, she would only be a minute. Mama loaded their groceries and sat down in the car. Aunt Lora walked to a nearby car with children, a young mother and father. After a couple minutes of talking together Aunt Lora went back into the store, the mother beside her. They soon emerged laughing and smiling with enough groceries to fill the car. Mama watched as the young man sheepishly thanked her and Aunt Lora shook her head as if to say "not necessary." What Aunt Lora had noticed my mother had not, was something about the young man that told her he had served his country. My aunt was, as we say, "good people."

My Uncle Herbert (Uncle Hub) countered his wife in personality about as perfectly as anyone could. A gentle, easy-going  soul with kind eyes, handsome, full of humor and loving. His children knew when he meant business and when he was simply amused with them. My Uncle Herbert loved his sports almost as much as he loved his Lora. That precious man could eat more ice cream than anyone I ever knew. I don't know where he put all that ice cream! Together, they raised three intelligent, loving children. Nancy Jane had the gentle graciousness of her father and the "get it done" drive of her mother. She liked to remain low key and out of the spotlight. Always attentive if you needed her, she gave great thought when asked a question and had strong opinions yet was gentle in her replies or any rebuff.
What I remember most as a child was how she could diffuse a situation or a person with ease- (usually her mother) My Aunt Lora's personality was often very intense. I would see her get all wound up about something, usually details that didn't get finished or completed in the manner she would have preferred. Nancy could breeze in with a smile, add a different perspective to solve the same problem and completely diffuse her mother. My Aunt Lora would smile and you could see her mood change instantly. Nancy had a gift and a way with her mother. God-given I am sure and I'm guessing the entire family loved her more for it.

[Melanie and Nancy] 

God's Word has quite a bit to say about our serving one another. Nancy sought to bring honor and glory to God daily. She was not perfect, as none of us are but she had a gift and the heart of a servant. 
She married and raised two beautiful, intelligent children. I know they will carry her lessons with them for a lifetime. I watched her daughter lovingly and gently care for her mother throughout her illness. It's in the blood, an attitude of gratitude. It's a learned gift to care for someone you love, knowing what makes them feel comforted and secure. You did it well Melanie.

It's a strange thing, living without one's mother. It's often as if an appendage has been removed from your body but eventually you adjust to your new normal. You make new memories but you still want to tell your Mother about them. My own mother died eight years ago tonight, 12:01 a.m. May 1st and I still sometime want to pick up the phone and tell her something fabulous or share my day with her.  It is no longer painful to think about her, there is only joy where she once was.  

The week before Nancy passed I had the opportunity of sitting with her one last time. We talked of family and how fortunate we were to have grown up in the time we did, of all the fun we had as children, of our connection through the years. I am better for having grown up with this family, with these people as mine. I carry them with me daily.
Nancy leaves a legacy of love and grace, a perfect example of how we should treat each other in the time we are given. I cannot even imagine the depth and scope of who she touched in her life.
That's just one person, imagine what you can do with a little love and grace.