IMPORTANT NOTE:  I am writing a series of biographies of my mother’s siblings.  I inadvertently turned two pages and missed one very important aunt’s biography.  Since the mistake was not realized until I had already published this blog I choose to wait until my next blog to write about my beloved Aunt Mary Hattie Bell.  I want to have time to allow my memories of her to be fresh and vibrant on the day when I dedicate my day to writing about her.  Please forgive me for this oversight.  Also, please note that there is another important note at the end of this blog for all my faithful readers.

Sunday Sabbath  July 31 2016  THE HEARTBREAK OF LOVE

Perhaps the most difficult part of loving someone so deeply is being left behind if they die first.  That to me is the greatest heartbreak of love.  I can still remember the first experience I had when someone I knew died.  I was just a child and it was quite difficult for me to understand and grasp the finality of the meaning that they were never coming back.  Since that time decades ago I have experienced the loss of many family members; parents, aunts, uncles, cousins, in-laws, who have gone before me.  I’ve also experienced the loss of close special friends, acquaintances, church members, neighbors, as well as some of my extended family members.  People die.  I know that.  I understand that.  But it still hurts.  And sometimes the pain seems to go deeper than you can bear. 

I have family members who have outlived all their children, several spouses, and somehow they keep on keeping on.  I may go deeper into that topic at a later date.  Today I will focus on two people who had a profound impact on my life.  I don’t even think my extended family really understand just how much.  It all began many years ago when my grandmother went into early labor due to the loss of another child, and delivered a tiny baby girl before her time.  From the stories I have been told (and I am always open for corrections) little Vera Estelline (who was known to me as “Aunt Estell”) was born prematurely due to the traumatic stress my grandmother went through when her daughter Ora Helen died.  Vera Estelline was tiny and kept in a small box close to (or under) the cook stove (which was probably a woodstove).  I know little else about her condition except that I always heard it was a miracle she survived.

Her survival changed my life.  First of all she married a man that I looked up to like a father.  He scared me to death when I was a young child but over the years I grew to love and respect him deeply.  I overheard him giving my mother, his wife’s sister, wise advice on many occasions (pertaining to my errant ways as a teen) when I was supposed to be sleeping.  Just knowing he helped my mother get over some rough spots in her life gave me a new love and respect for him as I grew older.  My father was dead and I guess I wasn’t so easy to live with as I had many problems and hang-ups due to past experiences.  The older I became the closer I grew to my Uncle “HARCE” (his name was spelled “HORACE” but rhymed with FARCE).  I think I could write a book about Uncle Harce in regards to how many lives he influenced and helped throughout his life.  It was a proud day for me when he walked me down the aisle when I married Dave over 43 years ago. 

My Aunt Estell provided me with two very special cousins, one a few months older than me, the next a little more than a year younger.  My favorite days of summer were spent under her roof.  Aunt Estell was good to me.  And when I ate there I relished the delectable treat of RICE-A-RONI.  I also got in trouble a few times but I won’t bore you with the details.

I was so proud to be taller than my aunt by about age 10.  I kept growing taller and she just stayed short.  And I loved every short inch of her.  But she was tall in stature.  In my eyes she could do anything.  She truly was one of the most creative people I have ever known.  She was generous, kind, always busy, and certainly knew how to keep us kids busy.  And, she let us play between her clean sheets flapping in the wind hanging on the clothesline.  Well, maybe she didn’t really let us but we did it anyway.  My memories of her as an adult were just as great.  I always felt like I had a home to go to.  My mother had never owned a home and lived a rather nomadic life in her later years, living with, and taking care of older people, until it was she who needed care. 

When my Aunt Estell died it was like losing a mother.  I grieved deeply when my own mother died, but I truly believe I grieved just as much when Aunt Estell went to heaven.  Our children loved Aunt Estell like a grandmother.  When Courtland, our son, was a toddler he called her grandma.  Aunt Estell corrected him and told him she was his aunt.  Well from that point on Courtland called her “Aunt Grandma” and no further discussion could change his mind.  Her voice sounded just like my mother’s.  That’s all that counted.

I was not available to attend my aunt and Uncle’s funerals due to working under contract.  When I was in California in 2010 I drove about 4 or 5 hours round trip to visit both her and her Uncle Harce’s gravesite.  They were buried in Clear Lake California where they lived their retirement years.  I sat at the graveside, remembered them with love, and wrote the poem for the reunion while I sat in that peaceful cemetery.  I knew they were no longer there.  Their spirits were long gone to their reward in heaven, but I sat there and cried, just as I do now as I write these words.  Why do I cry so many years later?  After all, I now am an older lady and I understand that the end of life looms ahead for all of us, some, sooner than others. Perhaps I cry just because so much love still whelms up within me and the only way it spills out is through my tears.  I miss them but I know I will see them again someday.  Actually, someday we family members will all have a great big family reunion in heaven, perhaps even with you if you are planning to go there too. 

Below is the continuing saga of short biographies shared at our 2011 Family reunion.  I will also include the poem I wrote to honor Aunt Estell as I sat by her headstone.

Biography written 2011

VERA ESTELLINE  (AUNT ESTELL)

“Aunt Estell was just Aunt Estell.  There was never any pretense or putting on airs.  Petite in stature, but a woman of tall integrity.  She was strong and true in her relationships with her family and her relationship with God.  God’s gift to our family was the man she married.  Between the two of them they helped more people step over the threshold to adulthood and self sufficiency than can be counted.  She and Uncle Horace were the first to move to California from Arkansas, and for those who followed, they were like the stopping off place in a foreign land.

Estell weathered her own storms of life, sometimes alone.  She had a young daughter when her husband was shipped overseas in World War II.  He was gone for over two years.  During the time her husband was overseas she gave birth to their firstborn son Fort.  After her husband returned home from the war she later gave birth to their second son who died as a toddler due to diphtheria.  After giving birth to two more daughters, the family sponsored a 4 year old foster daughter who became another cousin to us.  She is still part of the family.  This speaks volumes for the fortitude her family has.  They truly helped so many people do something better with their lives.

Hospitality was Estell’s trademark.  It was her gift.  She was very giving in all things and above all else she was kind.  She would stand up for others, all 4 feet plus of her    She was always busy.  She was gifted in quilting, sewing, cooking, gardening, needlepoint, artwork, knitting and loving.  Going to her house to spend the weeks during summer vacation was the highlight of my existence.  She was generous, hardworking and never gave up.” 

As Estell aged disease took its toll. I once asked Nora, Estell’s daughter, if it was difficult to go and visit with her since her mom didn’t know her anymore due to Alzheimer’s.  Nora said, “No, it is not, for you see we still know who she is.”   Aunt Estell went to be with the Lord in 2006.  We will always miss you Aunt Estell.  We miss you too Uncle Harce. (Uncle Harce met his maker in 1999).

One thing I would like to add.  Nora later told me that she put two knitting needles and some knitting in her mother’s hands as she lay in her casket.  Nora said she had never seen her mother’s hands idle and they didn’t look natural in that state.  Come to think of it, my kids will probably put a keyboard under my idle hands.

Here is the poem I wrote as I sat by her gravestone.  It was read at the Family Reunion.

 

VERA ESTELLINE

UNTIL WE MEET AGAIN

By Kathleen Martens

March 3, 2011

 

My tears flow for the ones I love,

No longer with me but up above.

Never a chance to say goodbye,

But cherished memories in graves never lie.

 

Memories of childhood flood my thoughts,

Special times my heart has caught.

Backyard, and cousins, and sheets in the breeze,

Those long ago adventures my memories seize.

 

An uncle to love, my father replaced.

Words of wisdom spoken with grace.

Our walk down the aisle, he gave me away.

The honor was mine I always say.

 

A place to stay, food to eat,

He gave from His heart, needs to meet.

I was but one of the many fold

That he ushered over life’s threshold.

 

And my dear aunt now in death lies

By the husband she cherished with eternal ties.

None other like her—kindness so pure,

Life not always easy—but she endured.

 

A small little woman who loved everyone,

And to this niece was always so fun.

As I grew up she opened home and heart,

And being with her felt like a new start.

 

She cooked and baked, put fresh linins on bed,

Tirelessly worked and forged ahead.

Her talents many, as she knitted and sewed.

Art by needle, on her walls she stowed.

 

Amazing creations of one of a kind quilts,

And flowers and gardens up to the hilt.

Planting and harvesting, they grew their food,

Through rain and sunshine—regardless the mood.

 

But time took its toll as they loved one another,

And eventually life, by death was smothered.

But for them, death has no sting,

For together in heaven they now sing.

 

Today I kneel at their grave

To say goodbye, to the two so brave.

Thank you for being so wonderful to me,

And with you in heaven, eventually I’ll be.

 

And until then I’ll cherish the pleasures

That you gave unselfishly, all without measure.

I’m a better person because of you,

In my journey of life, you helped me through.

 

Today’s poem below encompasses my THANK YOU(S) TO GOD

 

LIFE GOES ON

Dedicated to Aunt Estell and Uncle Harce

By Kathleen Martens

July 31, 2016

 

Thank You Father

For all the people in the past

Who poured into me

That which would last.

 

Thank You for the love

That was extended in my direction

And that when I was a child

Others gave me correction.

 

Thank You Lord

For those who loved me,

And walked through difficult times

So I could be freed.

 

Thank You for Aunts

And for those they married.

Who reached out and loved,

Though times were harried.

 

Thank You Lord for family

That extends beyond the home,

Because it always appears

We need other places to roam.

 

And thank You Father

For this time of reflection,

So that with my past

I can express my affection.

 

NOTE:

I thank my readers who are walking with me through these recollections.  May you be inspired to take time to reflect and allow your heart to remember and feel the treasures you have tucked into your bank of memories.  Even as old as I am I believe I still have lessons to learn from the people who were such an important part of my past. 

IMPORTANT NOTICE:

Due to events that are taking place this coming week, which will keep me fully occupied, I will not be publishing my blog again until Monday August 8, 2016.  I will then continue with this series.

 

GOOD NIGHT AND GOD BLESS YOU

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Saturday July 30 2016  A WORLD I NEVER KNEW

Today’s topic picks up from where I left off yesterday.  My mom was the firstborn.  Fourteen months later baby number two came along, another girl.  Twenty one months later another baby girl was born.  And twenty months after that, you guessed it, another girl was born.  But a lot happened in the course of those months that changed the heart of my mother.

At the time of the event my mother was three months shy of turning five years old.  I will insert the brief biography of Ora which I wrote 6 years ago.

“Ora Helen”

“Ora Helen was born 14 months after Sybil and lived almost 3 ½ years.  When she died her father borrowed the neighbor’s camera and after Ora Helen was laid out in her casket he propped the casket up against the outside of the house and took a photo of her.  That was the only photo ever taken of her.  It was a sad day in that household.

Gracie Tackett, Ora Helen’s mother was pregnant with Vera Estelline and went into early labor due to the stress of Ora Helen’s death.  Vera Estelline was born two days after Ora Helen’s death.  It grieved my grandmother that she was not even able to be at her daughter’s burial.  It was only through God’s mercy that Vera Estelline survived her early birth without medical intervention.  Though we never had the chance to know Ora Helen she lived in her parent’s hearts.  She is buried beside the graves of her parents, William and Gracie Tackett, in the Bowden Cemetery on Crow Mountain.  Her marker is a crude grave stone inscribed with her name.”

Ora Helen’s short life always intrigued me as a child.  I would sit and just stare at the one and only picture taken in her short life as she lay in her casket, her little hands folded neatly across her chest.  Her face looked so sad and so still.  When my mother viewed the picture she always had such a deep, far away grief that seemed to linger somewhere in the recess of her mind.  It was only after I found the little journal my mother had written, and read one of its pages, that I understood it profoundly affected her.  I can’t put my hands on the book right now but I remember a response she wrote in answer to the question, “Can you think of something in your childhood that made you sad?”  Her response was brief, but powerful.  She wrote of the deep sadness and heartache that enveloped her at the loss of her little sister.  She said it lasted for months.   I think she forever carried both the sadness of losing Ora Helen, and the sadness of losing her newborn baby so many years later.

About nine months after Ora Helen’s death a professional photographer took the one and only professional portrait of the three surviving daughters. I can still see the lingering melancholy look in my mother’s young face when I view the portrait.  Three sisters sitting on a wicker bench, my mother on the left as you view the print.  This portrait was taken over 90 years ago in a world I never knew. 

As my generation grew up we discovered that there was a lot of secrecy and “hush-hush” about several topics regarding the family’s history.  Finally I was old enough to hear the truth.  It is believed that Ora Helen’s father, my grandfather, caused Ora Helen’s death.  It has been expressed to me that she may have been shaken to death in a fit of rage.  As the story was told to me, after Ora Helen’s death my grandfather was confronted by several men in the community with the possibility of charges being filed.  The other men in the surrounding farming community did not think highly of my grandfather and the way he treated his family.  When he was confronted by the men after Helen’s death he scared them off and charges were never pressed.  That was just how it was in that world I never knew.  And it may still be like that in some of the back hills of our country.  Actually, there is still a world I do not know.  I discovered that anew as we traveled the back hills of the Appalachians this past April.

I only knew my grandfather as an old man.  I have my first memory of him when He was 55 years old.  And believe me I thought that was ancient.  I had been warned to just stay out of his way.  So I did.  When I was young the epic stories of his meanness had not tainted my innocent ears.  It was only after I became an adult that I was told the haunting stories of their pain, both physical and emotional.  I soon realized that they had and still did suffer from the abuse inflicted upon them.  My grandmother had been warned not to interfere.  When I look back at what they endured and think how all nine sisters and three brothers had survived such cruelty, it was just amazing to see how resilient and strong each of them were, and still are. Was life easy for them?  Not in the least.  For some it was quite rocky.  But each one became absolutely amazing people of integrity and strength with each ending up with a strong relationship with God.

Yesterday as I was reminiscing the past, reading the binder book of all that I had written for the family reunion, reading the dates of those who had died, it was only then that I realized how quickly our older generation is dwindling.  I love each and every one of my mother’s siblings, as well as my abundance of first cousins.  After I had viewed several pages I became overwhelmed with tears.  I stopped myself, thinking how silly this was, but the name I read on the page that made me cry was an aunt who is still alive.  I immediately called her up, realizing what a treasure she is to me in so many ways.  I wasn’t crying when I called her, but soon the tears began to spill again, as they do now!  She gave me permission to cry, not knowing what it was about, but it still made me feel better. 

We had a good talk and she helped place my heart on a simpler path.  I haven’t even started to arrange the photos as of yet.  I first must have everything organized in my mind.  I do have all the families separated into concise family groupings and plan to work on each family as a self contained entity.  And I haven’t even thought about my own siblings and how I will portray their layouts. 

There were several gaps in the albums I brought home from my mom’s place where pictures had been removed.  I won’t have as many as I wish I did in order to compile the complete story.  But, I believe the collection I have in my possession will be a nice keepsake for my sister’s family. My greatest pleasure will be all the joy I will have as I visit all the faces, events and memories once again.  I think that is the best part.  Even when tears spring to my eyes, I am still happy for having had these people in my life.  When I handle pictures of persons I know and love, it seems I become more aware of who they were, and who they are.

I had the opportunity to create two heritage albums in 2000 for my mother’s ancestors and her siblings.  By the time I finished the books I felt as if I knew even those whom I had never met, some of them having lived decades before I was born.  The faces became alive in my heart.  I will forever treasure the 500 hours that it took me to design and lay out what future generations will be able to enjoy.  One of my aunts paid for the supplies, so for me, it was the most economical entertainment I had ever enjoyed.  Especially since I loved what I was doing. 

 

THE LITTLE GIRL WHO NEVER GREW UP

By Kathleen Martens

April 2, 2011

Ora Helen Tackett

 

A little girl was born one day,

Only a short time on earth to stay.

She didn’t have a very long “dash”,

And so she had to live life fast.

 

She was baby sister to Sybil Marie,

But only until the age of three.

And by then there was a younger one.

And with Hattie Bell she had some fun.

 

But then one day Ora Helen ceased to breathe,

And from life on earth she was freed.

A little girl who never grew up,

No opportunity with twelve siblings to sup.

 

A little cherub waits at heaven’s door,

Of her sisters and brothers, she’s now met four.

 

Below is my poem for today.

 

A WORLD I NEVER KNEW

By Kathleen Martens

July 30, 2016

 

 

A world I never knew

Probably still exists

In the hearts of some,

Who their own will insists.

 

When anger can’t be quenched,

It creates much sorrow,

Which is stored in those they hurt,

Forever, in their tomorrows.

 

We never ever really know

What goes on behind closed doors.

How words and pain can be inflicted

Leaving behind emotional sores.

 

One generation to the next

Iniquities are passed down,

Only with the intervention of God

Can peace and joy be found.

 

For the scripture tells us

We can break the chains of sin,

So generational behaviors,

Not passed down again.

 

So if your family is in bondage,

Iniquities from the past can be broken,

If you believe that the written word

Is what the Lord has spoken.

 

God, I thank You for Your promise to me that a generational bondage was broken in my family and that it would not be passed on to my son or his sons.

Thank You Lord for confirmation of Your promise to me in 1980.

Thank You for being with me wherever I go.

Lord, thank You for raisins.

And thank You Lord for ideas.

 

Have a wonderful day!

 

GOD BLESS YOU!

I have included the portrait of my mother and her two younger sisters.  It sits on a shelf in our bedroom and has some reflection showing in the glass.  Perhaps you can still decipher the faces of the little people in the story.  All three are now enjoying each other in heaven and I am sure that Ora Helen is included and enjoying getting to know her sisters.  She was perhaps the most fortunate of them all. 

P.S.  Just for the record, Ora Helen was always called by her middle name of Helen.

 

FRIDAY JULY 29 2016  A PICTURE INTO THE PAST

I began another journey yesterday.  I don’t think I really understood where it was going to take me emotionally.  My mother died in 2010.  After her death all her earthly belongings were dispersed.  Only to her five living daughters would the items be considered treasures.  But to us, they were, and still are.  My youngest sister asked for all the family photos.  She asked for them before any one else did so she became heir to stacks and stacks of fading photos in non-archival albums.  I volunteered to make a heritage album for her so they could be rescued from decaying.  The executor of the estate, my oldest sister, paid for all the supplies out of my mother’s estate.  We all knew that saving those precious old photos would be a benefit to the heritage of our mother.

When I brought them home I worked for several weeks on removing the old snapshots from their prison of neglect, protected them in boxes, and only now am I embarking on finishing what I started.  The supplies were purchased six years ago and I’m all set to go.  To some that might simply entail inserting the photos into new albums.  However, that is not my idea of a heritage album.  So…a new journey begins.  And just where do I get the time? 

My goal is to be more diligent in getting up earlier, going to bed earlier, and working on the books for several hours each morning. And the journey has begun.  This morning I had a huge pot of homemade soup almost completely cooked by 9:00 a.m.  Then I began the albums.  At 1:30 p.m. I closed shop (wishing I didn’t have to), ate, went to the gym, came home and cooked dinner, ate AGAIN, and now I have a few moments for blogging. 

I am going to do something different with this story.  I want to take you with me into A PICTURE OF MY PAST.  In no way will the story be complete as we all have skeletons in our closet of which I do not feel is my prerogative to share.  However, I want to introduce you to the remarkable woman who was my mother, and who will live in my heart until I see her once again in heaven.  I will then introduce you to her siblings so that you can see what a remarkable family they were.  They lived in a very difficult time, living dirt poor, while being cruelly treated by their father.

Mama was the oldest of 13 children born to her parents.  She had a tyrannical father, and a mother who was the polar opposite of the man she married.  My grandfather finally died after over 60 years of marriage.  After his death my grandmother was quoted as saying that she believed God took him first so she would have some years of her life left to enjoy.  I know I am not quoting her verbatim, but if you knew my grandma, you would know how grateful she was for the gift of him dying first.  I never heard my grandmother ever once talk about another person in a negative way.  She had 14 more years on this earth after he died, the last few being lovingly tended by her daughters as she declined with dementia.

On different days I will share a short biography of her and her siblings which I wrote for a family reunion 5 years ago.  I will begin with the oldest and finish with the youngest.  I hope you enjoy them.

Here goes:

“Without mincing words I must say my mother was a remarkable person.  She was a strong woman with fortitude.   Her life was not easy.  Though she never had much in the way of personal wealth she had the uncanny ability of creating something out of very little.  She sewed quilts for warmth and sewed her children’s clothing as well as crocheting and tatting.  She was a “do-er”.  And if you weren’t “doing” she would help you become a do-er. 

 Mama was a prayer warrior.  Night after night she could be heard crying her heart out to God for the salvation of her children.  She held her family together through many trials and stepped up to bat when it was time.  Even though she seemed to work constantly there was one thing which she did remarkably well.  She had the discipline of taking an afternoon nap, affectionately termed later in life by her sisters and nieces as “I’m going to take an Aunt Sybil” which meant they were going to take a nap.

Mama lost a son to death shortly after he was born and went on to rear one son and five daughters.

Wherever mama lived, if there was a plot of dirt, she would grow food and flowers.  Her gardens were her passion, and even greater than her gardens, was her passion for the Lord.  She knew God loved her unconditionally and she strove to live a righteous life.  Life was very seldom easy for her but she had a love of life and knowledge that few really realized.  During her later years she read everything she could about World War II.  Her explanation was, that though she had lived through those years she never once had an understanding or news coverage about what was going on.  She was determined to know what happened in that far away war before she died.

 I also remember mama reading her Bible every day.  She read through the Bible  each year.  In her journals that she left behind she never forgot to write the notation “Read Bible today” at the end of her page.  She moved back to Arkansas to help care for her mama and papa in their retiring years.  When her father died she moved in with her mother and cared for her until her mother went to be with the Lord.  Mother and daughter were only 18 years apart so they aged together.

Mama went to be with her Lord in 2010.  She will always be remembered for her gardens.  Wherever she lived she made the world a little more beautiful with her gorgeous roses and bountiful flowers.  She was a true woman of integrity.”

 Here is the poem I wrote for the family reunion:

 

My Mama

January 2010

 

My precious dear mama.

 

A young person

Never allowed to be a child.

A student

Never allowed to pursue her dreams.

A wife

Doing without and sometimes not loved as she deserved.

A mother

Broken for her children.

A woman

Who survived by her fortitude and resourcefulness.

A grandmother

Who didn’t know how to say I love you.

 

But…she survived.

 

She grew to an adult

Without first being a child.

Life experience

Was her education.

She outlived her husband

And became free.

She gave her children to the Lord

And buried two sons.

She survived

By doing for others.

And she even learned to say

“I love you”.

 

Deep inside her…

 

She had dreams and hopes

And she put them in the Lord.

Deep inside her she saw beauty

And planted a garden.

Deep inside her she loved others

And took care of their needs.

Deep inside her she had gentleness

That blossomed as she aged.

And deep inside her

Her spirit was beautiful

For God had made her that way.

And when she left this world,

The world was a little less beautiful.

 

Now…

Her deepest yearning,

Her deepest needs,

Her deepest prayers

Have been met.

 

She has met her Creator.

 

The Great Physician

Counselor

Prince of Peace

 

And she will reign in His presence for ever.

 

She stored up her treasures in heaven.

 

She is now  a child…

A child of God.

Her dreams are fulfilled.

She is loved beyond measure.

She lacks for nothing

And is loved as the bride of Christ.

Her chains have been broken

And her crown is laden with stars

For her tireless giving

And ministrations.

 

She is at peace

All hope fulfilled.

 

I’ll see you again someday mama

 

Love,

Your daughter

 

Here is the poem I wrote today.

 

LORD, YOU ARE A GOOD, GOOD FATHER

By Kathleen Martens

July 29, 2016

 

Thank You Father that to my mother You were and are a GOOD, GOOD FATHER.

Never were You too busy that You could not be bothered.

Thank You God that You chose her to be mine,

Because as a mother, she was mighty fine.

 

Thank You Lord that my mother taught me well,

Your Holy Scriptures were her words to tell.

And because of the truth, that to me she imparted,

I have the gift of compassion, and being kindhearted.

 

I knew that she loved me but could not utter in words

“I love you”, but through her actions, those words I heard.

Without her I may not be who I am,

But because of her, I am Your precious lamb.

 

GOOD NIGHT AND GOD BLESS YOU.

Thursday July 28 2016  THE CLOCK IS TICKING

THE CLOCK IS TICKING

By Kathleen Martens

July 28, 2016

 

The clock is ticking and its past my bedtime.

The sky is dark, the sun no longer shines.

My blanket folded back by hubby dear,

Something he does when my bedtime is near.

 

Face is washed and teeth are brushed,

The night is still, the sounds are hushed.

But no blog written for those who read,

And all my energy from me bleeds.

 

So much to do as we have big plans.

And it’s difficult to stay awake as a blog demands

My concentration and creative thoughts,

And no topic have I yet sought.

 

So this is another of those “Howdy-do-you-do(s),

Quick and simple and the words are few.

A busy day and leftover tasks for tomorrow.

So I guess from tomorrow, I must borrow.

 

More work to do, but I cannot do now.

How the days get shorter, I don’t know how?

Mr. Sand Man is calling me loud and clear,

“Sleep tight; don’t let the bed-bugs near”.

 

So I will follow my heart and do what I must

To allow my body, sleep that is just.

And when I write, my words will be few,

And perhaps tomorrow I’ll write something brand new.

 

An extremely action packed day at my house.  My actions weren’t strenuous but took up every moment of my day.  Remember, Thursday is food box day and that adds a couple of hours of cleaning, prepping, cooking or storing for cooking later, and refrigerator musical chairs with a crowded venue.  And I have thrown another cog into my daily wheel but more on that later.  Plus, I am getting ready for another event that will take place all next week; more on that later also.  Put very simply, life just has a way of becoming very busy.  I am open for opinions as to how I can better manage my time.  Remember, I am supposed to be retired!  The only thing is I haven’t learned the art of sitting down (unless I am writing my blog).

I kid you not; I am literally nodding off in my chair. 

 

Thank You God that I have a comfortable office chair to sit in.

Thank You Father that I am so close to my bed and do not have to drive home from someplace else.

Thank You Lord for zucchini squash.

Thank You too for cherry tomatoes.

Thank You for Band-Aids.  

 

GOOD NIGHT AND GOD BLESS YOU!

 Wednesday July 27 2016  A WONDERFUL DAY

I love Wednesday.  I know you are probably getting tired of hearing that.  When I have such a lovely day as I did today, how do I not say it again?    First of all, yes, you got it right NO WORKOUT SESSION!  Now don’t get me wrong.  I do enjoy working out at the gym on the days I am scheduled, BUT…my days off are like a little midweek Sabbath; a time I feel less pressured.

Yesterday our neighbor told me about a conservancy close by which I had never heard of it.  She told me about acres of sunflowers in bloom.  How could I miss the opportunity to see for myself a spectacle such as she described?  After I awakened this morning I pondered as to how I could carve out the time to go this week.  Each morning before I leave my bed, I cull my iPhone of unsolicited emails and web addresses.  There was an email from “The Camera Store” where I buy my photography equipment and receive information from a camera club in which I am a member.   I opened that email, and I noticed a photo of a sunflower with the name of the conservancy across the top.  I clicked on it and was immediately transferred to the very website of the place I was hoping to explore.  That was the answer to a question I hadn’t even asked yet.  I had been contemplating if I could possibly work it in today, and that sealed it.  I didn’t just work it into my day; I designated my priorities so that it became my first destination.

A photo can whet the appetite, but seeing the actual beauty in person, feeds the soul.  At least it does for me.  I was there for over three hours.  And of course I had lots of fun by taking family photos of those I observed trying to do “selfies”.  (Is there such a word?)  I saw some serious cameras there, so more than likely I wasn’t the only one that took advantage of God’s work in setting the stage for an unbelievable photo-op. 

On the way home I stopped by my favorite grocers and  I still had time to make my creation of a summer vegetable strata after I arrived home.  I then called my neighbors to join us for dinner on the patio.  Everything is cooked and out of the oven.  Only the salad is left to assemble and that won’t take but a couple of moments because I already have everything cut up.  So, all in all, I call it a wonderful day.  My food box will be delivered tomorrow and my refrigerator desperately needed some help in getting things used up before then.

There are so many more interesting memories I made as I spoke with strangers, snapped photos of them with their own camera, ambled around on the 150 acres conservancy, and had a great conversation with a personal trainer.  Well, at least I talked. 

 

ONE SIMPLE FLOWER MULTIPLIED

By Kathleen Martens

July 27, 2016

 

Sometimes we must take advantage

To enjoy a gorgeous display

Of God’s stunning creativity,

Hand crafted by man’s way.

 

In God’s likeness we are made,

Creativity he instilled in our hearts,

And because God is The Creator

Man too makes beautiful art.

 

So take time to do your best

And add your touch of beauty to the world

That others too will have the pleasure

To see what man unfurls.

 

And on this day I saw a sight

No justice with words can describe.

It simply filled my soul with joy

As if to heaven I had arrived.

 

One simple sunflower multiplied

Caused my heart to dance with pleasure.

Flowers as far as the eye could see

Will be a memory I will always treasure.

 

Thank You God for Your amazing creativity.

Thank You for confirming to me today that this was a gift for me.

And Thank You God for the insight the personal trainer instilled in my heart.

 

GOOD NIGHT AND GOD BLESS YOU!

P.S.  It is late now.  Dinner is long over, the kitchen back in order, my shower accomplished, and this blog cleaned up a bit before Dave edits it.  He just stuck his head into my office and gave me some additional news about Pope Farm Conservancy.  The news reported that there are 9 acres of sunflowers planted with over half a million sunflowers.  AND THAT IS A LOT OF SUNFLOWERS!  It was well worth the experience and only about 15 or 20 minutes from home.  Oh yes, one more piece of information.  I spoke with one of the volunteer workers today and he informed me that 1/3 of the sunflowers are left in the field for food for the birds that winter over in Wisconsin.  The other 2/3 of the sunflowers is harvested and purchased by a local pet food store chain that sells them as bird seed.

P.S.S.  I included a few photos below.

 

 

Tuesday July 26 2016  TWO YESES—ONE NO

Confession time!  I can’t remember if I wrote about the topic of this blog recently or if I just thought about it.  I think it is too good to go unwritten, so here goes.  If one of you feels it is your duty to let me know that I have already written it, please send me the date I published it.

Before Dave and I married we laid down some ideas and guidelines that we wanted to follow in our marriage.  For the younger crowd, remember that 43 years ago we felt as modern then as you do now.  It was not the dark ages.  We were forging different paths than our parents, just as many of the young people are doing today, as we progressed into adulthood.  From the woman’s point of view, if both partners worked outside the home then both should share the work INSIDE the home!  No yard work was considered because, like most young couples, our first dwelling was an apartment.

It didn’t take long for us to discover that we had a lot more topics to discuss in order to make a marriage that was going to be built on a solid foundation.  We wanted a balance of power which included collective decision making and keeping a balanced budget.  No two more opposite people could have been yoked together than Dave and I.  Thank goodness for Dave’s deliberate, slow, rationality.  And thank goodness for my upbeat, spontaneous outlook.  One was quiet, one was talkative.  One wore browns in many shades, the other flamboyant colors.  One was slow to commit and the other rapidly involved in everything that came along.  Maybe you can see the pattern here.  I won’t even ask if you know who is who!

Before our marriage we dated long distance and spent a total of 23 days together over an eighth month period. We were engaged for four of those eight months.  And I think that God had it all planned that way or we may have never gotten married.  Even I can be SOMEWHAT quiet for 23 days out of eight months.

The first year was a difficult year for us.  Our marriage had its difficulties during the first year as husband and wife.  God did a miraculous work in my life, my attitude, and my behavior.  Had He not, our marriage may not have survived.  All I can say is that I am so grateful for the plans we developed together to ensure that we both had a voice in our family.  Our plan was the “TWO YESES–ONE NO” solution.  We decided to do this very early in our marriage.

Here is how it works.  Any time we had a major decision to make we agreed that we both needed to say yes or it wouldn’t happen.  If one of us said no, then the other would not try to change their mind, would not pout, no cold shoulder, and never use that decision making process to hurt the other.  We have used this method our entire marriage and it has worked beautifully.

Here is an example.  When we both agreed to move to Wisconsin it was in December, just before Christmas.  Dave’s new employer flew us out for one week to buy a house.  Remember, we were green horns from California, seasons were unknown to us, Wisconsin had shorter daylight hours in December, and we had never lived in snow country.  We were quickly introduced to all three.  So the house hunt began.  There were very few properties on the market.  No one wanted to show their house the week before Christmas, the daylight hours were short, we froze to death (it was in the 40 degree range), and the snow scared us.

I wanted to live in the country.  Dave wanted to live in a neighborhood with lots and lots of houses.  We would go into one house and before I even got out of the car I knew it was a “NO”.  Sometimes I didn’t even want to go into the house but Dave quietly coaxed me as the families had gone to lengths to accommodate our intrusion at such a busy time of year.  When we drove up to a country home, for Dave that was a preconceived “NO”. 

There was no bickering, no trying to persuade the other into buying what they didn’t want, just a simple, no and we left.  This went on for three or four days that ended at about 4:00 p.m. when it got dark.  If we were purchasing a home we at least wanted to see what the yard and neighborhood looked like.  And remember, I wasn’t looking for a neighborhood.  Neither one of us sulked, got frustrated, or angry with the other.  We simply kept plodding on.

And then it happened.  We stopped back by a house we had looked at previously that neither one of us could decide on for certain.  It was in a neighborhood, a yes vote for Dave.  The neighborhood was in the country a few miles from town.  A maybe yes vote for me, but I wasn’t completely committed.    The house was about 26 years old, had housed a family with eight children, it was empty of furniture, the kitchen was literally falling apart, the rooms were boxy and it was quite large.  It had the original carpeting, (remember 16 little kid feet trampling on it), bright psychedelic foil wallpaper adorning some of its walls, a busy circle plaster design on the ceilings, and if you touched the walls they felt like you were scraping against rough sand.  The outside of the house was all brick, with an outdoor setting of 5 acres surrounding it.  It felt like I was in the country as I looked out the window  in the gloomy afternoon light.  There were no leaves on the trees, and everything looked dead covered in the snow.

I slid down the prickly wall of the brown,empty dining room and just stared at the expansive space.  Dave came in, looked down at me and slid down the wall beside me (that was when we were young enough to get back up).  Then our realtor finds us sitting there and he slides down the wall.  We are all quietly contemplating our own inner thoughts.  Dave and I look at each other and at the same time, as the light was fading, said, “YES”.  That was all that was said.  I immediately stood up, Dave stood up, and the other Dave (the realtor) stood up.  He asked us if we were ready to go look at another house now.  I turned to him and said no, we’re done.  We chose this one.  David the realtor looked perplexed.  He asked, “You are buying this one?”  “Yes”, we replied.  He then asks, “What just happened here?”

We told him that we both said, “YES”.  “But I didn’t hear any discussion”, was his comment back.  We explained to him that none was needed.  And that was it.  We bought the house in December and moved in after the first of the year.  No arguments and no further discussion was needed.  We were both satisfied and happy.  We have lived here 30 years.  We have made it into a comfortable home and it has served us well.

TWO YESES—ONE NO.  We often muse at all the bickering and fighting we have not gone through these past 43 years since the TWO YES–ONE NO plan was put in place.  We have used that principal for deciding about adopting, decision to try for a pregnancy, not having additional children, child rearing, vacations, large purchases, investments, and so much more.  To my knowledge neither one of us have ever used it as a tool to “get even” with another for not giving in to something he or she wanted to do.  Those kinds of thoughts just never entered our mind. 

I believe God had and still has a purpose for Dave and I to be together.  And I believe it was God who gave us such wonderful ideas of how to make our relationship work for the both of us and for our children.  I don’t know how people make it through life without the knowledge that God provides in His Living Word.  God’s Word has been our road map through our life together.  And I thank God every day for working a miracle in my life so that I could become the wife God wanted me to be, for the man He brought to me.

 

TWO YESES–ONE NO

By Kathleen Martens

July 26, 2016

 

So many decisions

We must make

So many paths

We must take.

 

How to decide

On what to do?

And what to spend

On something new?

 

How can two agree

On the same

When everyone plays

A different game?

 

Decisions are made

Before the event

If money is involved

That must be spent.

 

It all boils down

That each one knows

It takes two yeses

But just one no.

 

One thing to remember

Before you get there

First ask God

In sincere prayer.

 

No hard feelings

No arguments entail

If all THREE agree,

Yeses definitely prevail.

 

Thank You God for giving Dave and me nuggets of wisdom throughout our years together.

Thank You for harmony in our home.

Thank You Father that You are a good, good Father.

Lord, I thank You for blessing the words I have written today that they will touch the hearts of others.

And Lord, thank You for our home that You provided for us.

 

YEAH!  It is only 4:08 p.m. and I am finished! (Except for proofing and editing and publishing).

GOOD NIGHT AND GOD BLESS YOU!

P.S.  It is 5:02 p.m. and I AM DONE!

Monday July 25 2016  GREAT SATISFACTION 

Just wondering if any of you reading this blog remember the motivational speaker Zig Ziglar from a few decades ago?  Years ago at one motivational event I attended, he was one of the presenters.  He seemed ancient to me, but once I could get past listening to his voice inflections, which were spoken with a VERY southern drawl, I realized that what he said was insightful, powerful, and something every married couple should know.

Somehow I recently ended up with a spanking new, unopened packet of Zig Ziglar CD’s about marriage.  It was in a pile of odds and ends I was selling at my garage sale.  So to speak, I bought it back from myself.  I tucked the packet into my car so I could listen to the CD’s as I traveled.  Well, as I listened, though still had to get past the drawl and graveling voice, I had a big smile plastered on my face the entire time.  The way he talked, the words he used, the stories he shared were inspiring.  Again, words that every couple should listen to together.  He was a man with high ideals who daily chose the righteous road, was true to his wife, and from his stories, she was true to him.

The old breed is dying off.  The world is a different place than it was 30 and 40 years ago.  There aren’t many people who place their trust in fidelity and purity when entering a marriage relationship.  It is sad for me to really take a look at what is happening in the world, both in the secular world as well as those who identify themselves as Christians.  Divorce rates are high, and it seems that blended families are more the “normal” than it is for original couples being together.  I first noticed this when I was photographing extended families at weddings.  I often had to photograph four separate family groupings so each of the bride and groom’s parents would not have their divorced spouse in their new, blended family portrait.  Of course the bride and groom needed to pose in ALL THE BLENDED FAMILY SITTINGS.

After listening to the CD’s today on the way to the gym it brought back a very vivid memory to me from 43 years ago.  I remember pledging in my heart that I would never be unfaithful to my husband and I believed the same about Dave.  As I walked down the long aisle to meet my groom I remember praying that God would allow me to grow old with this man I was marrying today.  As time passed, our years together increased, and that thought from so long ago would echo in my memory.  I continually thanked God that we were both still alive and together, because that long ago prayer still lived in my heart.  Growing old has its drawbacks as far our bodies are concerned, but it never has its drawbacks in regards to growing old with my husband.  I do not fear death; rather my greater concern is being the mate who is left behind.  Each anniversary only increases my love for my husband.  Sometimes I wonder in amazement how it was, that God was so good in providing such a man for me, because I certainly did not feel worthy. 

When I look back to the day I listened in person to Mr. Ziglar, I realize now that he was not as old then, as Dave and I are now.  And I thought he was so old!  Somehow old age has become younger and younger.  When I realized the age discrepancy of my memory, verses reality, I now comprehend that I have realized my wedding march dream…I HAVE GROWN OLD WITH THE MAN I LOVE!  And my heart smiles.  And in my heart I whisper a prayer of gratitude to God, and then I whisper a little prayer of hope, that we will have just a little while longer.

 

JUST A LITTLE WHILE LONGER

By Kathleen Martens

July 25, 2016

 

My dream is fulfilled

And in my heart I know,

I have reached my destination

That came quickly, not slow.

 

The man of my dreams

Is still by my side,

And in each other’s hearts

Our love still abides.

 

Lord, just awhile longer

Allow us to be

In each other’s presence,

Bound together, yet free.

 

Old is always older

Than the age we are now,

How the years passed so swiftly,

We just don’t know how?

 

And thank You Heavenly Father

Though I deserved him not,

The perfect man for me

To my side You brought.

 

I thank You for allowing me

To know the treasure of true love,

And that love comes from You

As we journey to heaven above.

 

Thank You for the blessing

That we are a family intact.

We take not for granted

This wonderful fact!

 

After writing the above I looked up Zig Ziglar’s biography online.  Though I haven’t read all of it due to time, I will go back at a later date and read it.  I have included a bit of his statistics below.  

http://www.zigziglarstory.com/zigs-story-part-1    

Hilary Hinton “Zig” Ziglar was an American author, salesman, and motivational speaker. Wikipedia

Born: November 6, 1926, Coffee County, Alabama, AL

Died: November 28, 2012, Plano, TX

Spouse: Jean Ziglar (m. 1946–2012)

 

Quote from Zig Ziglar:

“IF YOU TREAT YOUR WIFE LIKE A THOROUGHBRED, YOU’LL NEVER END UP WITH A NAG.”  Zig Ziglar
Read more at: http://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/authors/z/zig_ziglar.html

 

THANK YOU GOD FOR MY HUSBAND.

THANK YOU THAT MY HUSBAND HAS ALWAYS TREATED ME LIKE A THOROUGHBRED, EVEN WHEN I ACTED LIKE A MULE!

 

GOOD NIGHT AND GOD BLESS YOU!

 

Sunday Sabbath  July 24 2016    AFTER THE STORM

Most of my readers live outside the state of Wisconsin.  Those of you who live in Wisconsin’s environment may have experienced how wicked a Wisconsin storm can be.  And if you live in a wooded area you may have familiarity with the sounds of such a storm.  The roar, of up to 75 mile per hour winds, creates a deafening noise.  The reverberation of trees knocking against each other with thousands upon thousands of leaves whipping against one another creates a cacophony that crescendos with the nuances of the air-stream.  It’s as if some ancient language is trying to be heard. 

The visual spectacle of such a scene in the darkened midday sky creates a sinister world depicting anger and loss to come.  How trees can withstand the force of something unseen, yet delivered with such a vengeance is beyond me.  And throw into the mix of all the tumult, the solid mass of water that is poured out on the land from the blacked sky above.  Add the ingredients of the booming sounds of thunder, the spectacle of bolts of lightning, and you have the perfect Wisconsin Storm.

Then, add the fact that every street in your immediate neighborhood slopes toward your property and the rain water gathers in momentum as it flows downhill to your driveway, down the side of your house, and to the runoff area out back.  It is like a flash flood river, in miniature, yet deep enough and fast enough that you would not want to be caught walking in it.  I believe it could undermine the balance of anyone caught unaware.

And when morning comes, the wind abates, the clacking and howling of rustling trees now in quiet repose, debris littering the lawns and flower beds, and sodden flowers bowing low, the sound of absolute silence greets you.  Simple quiet peace offers itself as a gift, as if to say, “Sorry for the ruckus yesterday and last night.”  And many trees are down in the area and you are grateful that yours are intact.  But some trees, no matter how resilient and strong, now lie prostrate like dead soldiers on the battle field.

 If you can imagine all that I described as happening to you, then you know how I felt this morning.  I actually morn the trees that lost their lives in the mêlée of yesterday’s storm as well as the storm two days prior.  I view trees as being strong, vital, and giving.  It saddens me when a storm writes their death.  And then I notice the most exquisite flower, bowed low on its stem, fully opened, but not bruised, damaged or torn.  The most fragile, delicate creation in the yard, bending beneath the unrelenting wind and the weight of water, has not been scathed one iota by all it experienced.  I am amazed at how it weathered the storm.

Perhaps it was the flower’s inclination to bow before its almighty creator and not fight the forces that surrounded it.  Perhaps when forces rage around us, of which we have no control, our best choice would be to just lay low, bow before almighty God, and surrender to what His will is for our lives.  Maybe we would then survive the turmoil and come out as the victor.

 

AND AFTER THE STORM

By Kathleen Martens

July 24, 2016

 

A simple flower

Bowing low,

Becomes the victor

In after-storm glow.

 

No bruise or tear

Upon its petals,

Amidst the chaos

Resistant as metal.

 

Delicate blossom

Its aroma lends,

Through all the commotion

Without scratch or rend.

 

I hope to be

Just like that flower.

No matter the storm

I refuse to be dour.

 

I will seek

God’s mighty grace,

And after the storm

He will lift my face.

 

And God’s fragrance

Becomes my shield.

I become more like Him,

Because I yield.

 

Thank You God for the bountiful rain we received this week.

Thank You Lord for the heat of Your Sunshine.

Thank You for such a wonderful message at church today.

Thank You for giving me a reminder of the promise I must fulfill.

Thank You for my energy and strength.

Thank You for friends.

Thank You for pumpkin seeds.

 

GOOD NIGHT AND GOD BLESS YOU!

 

Saturday July 23 2016  A DAY WELL LIVED

Up early with two hungry boys!  Asked them if they would like to go out for breakfast but all they wanted was grandma’s cereal (Brand Buds) and fresh fruit smoothies.  What a deal!  After breakfast we headed to Vitense Golf Land (a miniature golf course) and played 18 holes.  It was quite the spectacle with a four year old, an eight year old, an old lady and one old man.  But we had fun making spectacles of ourselves.  Fortunately we didn’t keep score.  I don’t know if we could have counted so high.  Dave salvaged his reputation by winning a free game because of his excellent “LUCK” of hitting the right slot on his last shot.  I suppose now we must go back.  Just one last parting comment, the entire game was actually quite hilarious if you were one of the participants.  To the outsider looking in, it may have been quite pitiful.  Loved every moment of it!

From the golf course we headed to the SPLASH PAD!  In case you are out of touch with the little guys, that is a flat cemented area with all kinds of kooky water squirts, dumps, mists, sprays, and apparatus on which to play that one could ever imagine.  The boys love going there.  And boy was it a busy place!  The kids had a blast and it was delightful to watch them interact with other children, giggling, and having so much fun.

THEN…we went to MacDonald’s drive through and took their bounty home with us so we could fix something more “sophisticated” for us two adults.  Once again the kids were thrilled with the “Disney grandparent day” affection being lavished on them.  After lunch we had hoped to go outside and try out our GIANT WATER GUNS (yes, even gramma and grandpa have one)!  It was voted down because the boys wanted to finish the movie they were watching last night when they both fell asleep.  I actually outlasted them last evening.  WHEW!  We had just enough time left to watch the entire movie before we planned to leave at 2:30 p.m. to drop the boys off at our son’s workplace so he could take them home.  But that was not to be.

During the movie we had another roaring storm come barreling through.  The winds were atrocious.  I was concerned we were going to have a few ragged and twisted trees left in the storm’s wake.  Only a few times since living here have I seen it any worse.  The torrential rainwater collects momentum as the streets in our neighborhood all slope, directing the flow of water to our driveway, down past our house, down our back driveway, and funnel into a water causeway that Dave designed, and purposely bricked in, to direct the watershed and dump it out in our lower woods.  When we moved here we noticed that the runoff was eroding our land at the end of the driveway and Dave did not want to see that continue.  It works marvelously.  The water runs fast when it rains hard like it did today and earlier this week.

After a few texts back and forth with our son, he decided that his huge truck would better ford the flash flooding of the city streets, than would our Kia Soul.  He decided to pick the boys up rather than have us drive to lower ground.  And of course the storm was happening about the time we planned to take the boys to his workplace.

I assume they are safely home by now since I have not received an S.O.S. message from him.  The house is quiet again.  The storm is settled now, both in and out.  And I say that in jest.  Our grandsons are exceptionally well behaved children and it is always a pleasure to have them here.  And what I enjoy about them being here is that I always have so much fun teaching them new things.  They are like little sponges.  And they are both talkers!  I like little talkers!  When you really listen, you just might be surprised what they can teach you! 

 

TWO LITTLE BOYS

By Kathleen Martens

July 23, 2016

 

Two little boys

Vying for attention,

Sopping up information

With amazing retention.

 

Two little boys

With active little minds,

Though they are brothers,

Definitely one of a kind!

 

Two little boys

Overflowing with love,

And lots of exuberance

And a few shoves.

 

Two little boys

Who grow in my heart

Like blossoming flowers,

Even when we’re apart.

 

Two little boys

From God on loan,

To cuddle and nurture

And call my own.

 

Two little boys,

Never enough time to give,

To tell them of God’s love

And how He commands them to live.

 

Two little boys

Growing into men

I pray in earnest

God protects them from sin.

 

Two little boys

Someday we’ll leave behind.

So we share our stories

Hoping wisdom they find.

 

Thank You God for our “TWO LITTLE BOYS” that you have entrusted to our son and his wife.

Thank You God for continuous protection over their hearts.

Thank You God that they have an intact family and godly parents.

Thank You God for who they are.

Thank You Lord for our amazing day with them.

Thank You for Bran Buds Cereal and fresh fruit smoothies.

Thank You for their laughter that still charms my ears.  

Thank You Jesus that I am able to hear their laughter.

Thank You too that our trees are still intact.

Thank You for rain.

 

GOOD NIGHT AND GOD BLESS YOU!