Visions of Poetry

Tuesday August 9 2016  A PICTURE INTO THE PAST: MARY HATTIE BELL

There is sort of a ring (no pun intended) to the name MARY HATTIE BELL.  I wish I knew its full origin.  There is usually a story of some kind when we tag our children with their names.  I suppose “Mary” may have been named after her grandmother, Mary Edith.  I do not know the derivative of Hattie, nor the Bell.  I do know that Bell was and still is a popular name in the south. 

“Hattie”, the name I knew her as, was four months shy of her second birthday when Helen died so I doubt if Hattie had any memory of Helen.  So many questions I wish I could go back and ask my departed aunts and uncles.  I know many stories of their growing up years have long been left unsung.  I believe that life must have been so difficult living with their father that many buried the pain with their tucked away memories.  Only a few of my 8 aunts ever discussed their childhood with me.  For some it was just too difficult to bring up.

The first recollection I have of Aunt Hattie was when she was already “very old”, she must have been at least 34 years old, and that was ancient to me.  The timeline of my early years is blurry to me but I do remember when my cousins lived across the street from us.  During this time we lived in an old drafty house that seemed menacingly large to me.  Aunt Hattie and Uncle Floyd and all their children lived across the street in the projects.  These projects were in Richmond, California instead of in Rodeo, California.  After World War II the military workers moved back to home towns and the plethora of government housing became available as low-cost housing.  During these years my Uncle Harce and Aunt Estell came to California with their two children in tow following the end of the war.  My sister informed me that Harce and Estell lived in the San Joquine valley for a period and then moved up north to Richmond, California which is in the San Francisco Bay Area. I think they too, lived in one of the apartments by the time we migrated there and had one more daughter by that time.  A couple of years later they had another daughter.

The apartments, if I remember them correctly, were quite cramped and small, even to a child.  The apartments provided a roof overhead and that was what counted!  Estell and Harce had 2 children when they migrated from Arkansas, we had 5 kids at that time and from what I’ve been told, we all lived together in one of those small apartments.  Later, our family settled in an old house on Steege Street.  I wouldn’t be surprised if Hattie, Floyd and their five children also lived with Harce and Estell at one time or another.  Harce and Estell’s open door generosity was usually the first stomping ground of all the family members who migrated from Arkansas to California looking for a better life.   It was the GRAPES OF WRATH in motion; my family being one that came, uneducated, barefoot, and with a passel of young’uns hanging onto their mama’s apron strings, hoping for a better life.   I was totally oblivious to the hardships endured.  And it was me, the baby at that time that probably made it even more difficult to live in such cramped quarters.

I don’t know who migrated first, our family or Hattie’s family.  Eventually they lived across the street from us and I had a best friend in my cousin Paul Michael.  We were both preschool age and spent many hours together under the back porch digging to China.  My earliest memory of Hattie’s clan has more to do with the kids than with knowing who Hattie was in relationship to me.  She was just “another” aunt and I was discovering that I had a lot of aunts.  Paul Michael’s brother Steven was born about that time and I am sure Hattie had her hands full.

Over the years I became better and better acquainted with Aunt Hattie and always perceived her as being quite bossy, having control of what was going on around her, and always, always, working so hard.  She worked as hard as any man I ever saw.  And the other thing I remember about her was regardless of how little she had, she was always willing to share it with others.  She had a brusque demeanor to us little kids, but we knew she loved us.  I pretty much stayed away from Uncle Floyd however, because I knew he gave his kids some good lick’ins.  Hattie had a few high spirited kids in her mix and of course I was always aghast at the things I overheard while playing under the quilt frame as our mama’s quilted.  You bet your bottom dollar that if you are talking and your little ones are present (especially when you are NOT talking to them) they have antenna ears.  We even had supersonic hearing back then and we knew how to be real quiet all at once so we could hear their hushed tones through the thickness of the quilt above our heads as we sat on the floor amongst several pairs of legs hanging beneath their long dresses. 

Though I seemed to get along with all my aunts, I sometimes didn’t see eye to eye with my cousins.  And it was always fun to hear the juicy gossip.  Aunt Hattie was always kind and I knew she loved me in her own matter of fact, bossy way.  And boy, did she know how to get things done!

As I became an adult and had opportunities to be around Aunt Hattie she became one of my favorite aunts.  I think every aunt became a favorite aunt as I grew up.  Our relationships changed and I loved any and all history they could give me about our family.  My interest in the genealogy of our family grew as I matured and some Aunts were very helpful by telling me stories of the past and others were closed mouthed about their childhood.  I am still gleaning information from them even after all these years.

I saw in Hattie a spark of life that I believe had never been allowed to surface until it finally spilled over as she aged.  I saw an excitement and exuberance come alive in her.  She seemed to have the spunk of a young woman and she shared her joy in so many ways with others.  I still have a beautiful set of Monkey Sock Dolls that she made for me many years ago.  She was an avid gardener, cook, canner, and talker.  I think she could out-talk me!  I loved her spirit.

She also weathered many hardships.  Her son, my favorite boy cousin who helped me dig to China under the back porch, eventually became a Vietnam War Veteran.  He had a great loss of love in his life and took his own life right after Mother’s day one year.  I know that was extremely difficult for Hattie.  It was a sad time for our entire family.  We all loved Paul Michael so much.  Paul had a gentle soul and a sweet demeanor.

So, as you can see, life wasn’t easy for Mary Hattie Bell, third daughter born to William Ellis.  I will now share the short biography I wrote for her for that I shared at the 2011 Family Reunion.  I asked her children to tell me what Hattie should be best remembered for.  Her FIRST PLACE AWARD CERTIFICATE SAYS:  “for BIGGEST HEART!  We also remember her for her strength and determination.  She never looked at the bad side of life.  She fought a good fight!”  And I agree with every word!  Aunt Hattie was truly one of a kind!

BIOGRAPHY BELOW WRITTEN IN 2011 (With one correction as to the cause of her death)

MARY HATTIE BELL  1922-1988

Children:

Joyce

Linda

Jimmy

Mary

Paul

Steven

“Hattie was a strong character in her roll of life.  She too weathered some storms and worked hard to help her family through some lean times.  She was devoted to her family.   She was a woman of strength and determination.  She fought a good fight!  She was always able to put food on the table and she could make a feast with very little makings.  She was strong and enduring and never looked at the bad side of life.

Hattie was loving and caring to siblings and generous with the fruits of her labor that came from her garden.  She would send her kids to a neighbor’s house with a cardboard box full of garden produce and have them knock on the door and then run away so the family would not know where the food had come from.  She did not want to hurt their dignity.  She could always find someone that had less than her family and made certain they had food to eat if she was able to provide it.

At times she worked outside the home.  She was employed by Mount Diablo Hospital.

Hattie had the creativity that runs in this family.  She gardened, sewed everything her family needed, cooked, and she created ribbon roses.  She was an avid quilter and received great satisfaction when she completed her creation.  Best of all, her son stated, “she could stretch a dollar farther than anybody until you could hear it snap”.  She will lovingly be remembered for her Monkey stocking dolls.  

Hattie went home to be with the Lord in 1988 after a long illness *due to an inherited genetic blood disorder.  We still miss you Aunt Hattie after all these years of being without you.  You were always so full of life and vitality!”   

*Originally the text stated that the blood disease was caused by a blood transfusion.  I was informed on Sunday by her daughter Joyce that it was actually caused from an inherited genetic blood disorder.

 

SHE FOUGHT A GOOD FIGHT

Mary “Hattie” Bell

Kathleen Martens

April 2, 2011

 

An Amazing woman, strong and bold.

She battled some hardships, so I’m told.

So full of life, and energy galore.

She worked like a man, and talked even more.

 

Excitement in her eyes telling her story,

I imagine that God is now listening in glory.

Always so busy with children and home,

Or out in her garden working in loam.

 

Her garden gave life; food for so many.

She was so giving yet frugal with a penny.

Her kids never hungry, she worked hard to provide,

And with generosity she’d always divide.

 

She quilted and sewed and made monkey faces.

And two of those critters, my home still graces.

She had such zest just for living,

And suffered decline when bad diagnosis was given.

 

And through her illness she cherished each hour,

A hard journey to heaven but God gave her power.

We miss you Aunt Hattie; your personality with zest!

No matter what you did, You gave it your best!

 

Today’s poem:

 

LONG AGO MEMORIES

By Kathleen Martens

August 9, 2016

 

What glimpses of time

In memory confined?

Memories of past

Seem better to last.

 

Yesterday is gone

As if scattered on lawn

Thoughts come and go

But where, I don’t know.

 

Reminiscing brings pleasure

In unending measure.

And my joy is to share

So others can care.

 

Long ago days

In languid thought,

No need to hurry

Worry or scurry.

 

Little smiles tucked here and there

And so easy they are to share.

When I bring them to mind

They are easy to find.

 

Like little jewels

Of handy tools,

When they are needed

My bidding is heeded.

 

And so I cherish

Before I perish

To give without cost

Before memories are lost.

 

Lord, thank You that I can still recall some memories of the past.

Lord, thank You for the amazing brain which you created.

Thank You God for Your concern for each person in our vast family.

Thank You for all the people You put in my life to make it so rich.

Thank You for each aunt, each uncle, each cousin, and all the in-laws.

Thank You for this very moment in which I live.

Thank You for plumbers.

 

GOOD NIGHT AND GOD BLESS YOU.

 

Monday August 8 2016  THE SECOND MONDAY

I am back on the keyboard writing my blog.  Following is the saga of this past week.  Dave and I skipped town and I did not take the necessary equipment to publish my blog.  I wanted to be footloose and fancy free.  But could I actually get away from writing?  No I could not.  The hotel had a computer so I wrote my sister an email each day and I have included them here.  It is the story of our week from my perspective.  Tomorrow I will return to the series A PICTURE INTO THE PAST.

I warn you that it is long.  I hope it will be interesting to you.  Please let me know if you make it to the end.

Tuesday August 2 2016  ON A JOURNEY

Here I sit at the computer at the Holiday Inn in Covington Kentucky.  I know I promised that I would not write a blog for a few days.  My “blog vacation” is to be until Monday of next week.  We have been planning this trip for the past several months and it is our first bus tour outing.  WE HAVE ARRIVED!  We are finally old enough that we understand the joys of being with other “like-minded” retirees as well as not having to experience long tedious hours behind the wheel.  The hours are never tedious to me, but for some I can understand how they would be.

Every day is a new adventure for me.  No matter how mundane, how monotonous repetition can become, or how tired I get; to live another day is a gift I receive with gratitude.  And sometimes the days can seem quite long.

Yesterday was Monday, the day before we were to leave.  I had finished packing my suitcase by 11:00 a.m.,  my ironing was finished (yes, I iron my clothes before I pack them), and I had made good inroads on preparing the food I wanted to take with me.  Soon it was time to prepare for lunch, go to the store for grapes, go to the gym for a couple of hours and then come home and finish up the trip preparations, shower and get to bed by 9:00. 

Remember my question, “Does anything ever go as planned?”   Dave had a sprinkler rotating around the yard most of the day to prepare for our absence.  Later he did a couple of loads of laundry, and then, before I got in the shower we decided to run the dishwasher.  Well, after I was soaped up I could tell the water pressure was dropping.  I quickly rinsed off and turned the shower off.  My shower hadn’t even begun until after 10:00 p.m. so you can tell I was already off schedule.  I told Dave about the low water pressure and suggested he wait until morning for his shower.  He went right to bed and was asleep in minutes.  The dishwasher had not finished.  Since we never go anywhere, including to bed, until the cycle is over I volunteered to stay up and take care of it.

When I have a few spare moments I always find something to do.  I worked a bit more doing final prepping for our 3:30 a.m. wake up.  About 11:30 p.m. I was pretty much finished so I turned on the faucet to wash my hands only to find out that we had NO WATER.  Only air came out.  Uh Oh!  I didn’t like the thought of that.  I had a hunch that something was not working with our well pump.  I found a phone number on the pump control cover and gave the number a call at about 11:45 P.M.  And believe it or not, someone answered.  I followed his instructions to restart the well but did not work.  So…you guessed it, they couldn’t do anything for me until morning.  One slight problem, we wouldn’t be here in the morning.  And of course the clock was ticking.  It took awhile for the plumber to return my emergency call (he was in bed sleeping), and then it took time for us to do some sleuth work about restarting the pump, and then it took more time for in conversation.  We were cut off at one point and he called me back.  After I answered I heard Dave coming into the basement concerned about hearing the phone ring.

One look at Dave peering into the laundry room and I knew he was about dead to the world standing there in his skivvies.  He asked what was going on and I told him the pump was out, to go back to bed, and I would take care of it.  He said Okay, no questions asked, no explanations given.  It was almost comical.  I checked on him a few minutes later and he was sound asleep.  After all was said and done I was told nothing more could be done until the next day.  I retired to bed at almost 1:00 a.m. and was then wide awake.  I did get about 90 minutes of sleep before the alarm went off.  When we drove out of the driveway we were only 4 minutes behind.  Dave never did get a shower.

After the plumber came today and looked things over we received the report that we will need to have a new well pump installed.  The plumber was finally able to get the well started but it went off again.  He started it again.  This time it stayed on for awhile. We will wait until we get home to decide when to have it replaced.  If it stops again it will be replaced immediately, but if possible we would like to wait until mid September so the perennials can go dormant and have less damage and stress involved as the heavy machinery rolls over our flowerbed and lawns.  Dave has worked so long and diligent on creating border edgings between lawn and ornamental plants.  We last had the pump replaced in 1995 so it is not surprising that it is time to do so again.  Phone calls, reports, and conversations with the plumber peppered our first day on the road.  I’m just glad I wasn’t driving.

We had a bus with more seats than passengers so I chose to go crawl into the last two seats on the bus; most people were closer to the front.  I borrowed a pillow from another lady, wrapped myself up in the full sized blanket I had toted along, and fell asleep.  I almost missed the rest stop interlude because I didn’t even know the bus had stopped.  I felt great the rest of the day following that 90 minute nap.  My body needed it.  And you know what; I never did get upset, frustrated, or a “woe is me” attitude.  Instead I was so thankful that we were home when the pump failed.  I was thankful that it didn’t cause an electrical fire.  Just another day that didn’t go as planned.  It was still marvelous to be alive because I always remember that it is God who holds my hand.

Cincinnati, Ohio is a beautiful city.  Our Hotel is across the Ohio River, adjacent to the downtown area.  The fellow passengers on the bus are delightful and I thoroughly look forward to becoming acquainted with more of them over the next several days.  We arrived safely on a beautiful day of sunshine.  The outlying country is as beautiful as Wisconsin, lush green fields, corn waving in the breeze, and grains flourishing by the acres.  And lots, and lots, of trees.  We will be transported to Williamstown Kentucky tomorrow to view the new exhibition of the life-sized replica of Noah’s Ark, which is a wooden structure built on land with the same dimensions as described in the Bible.  I shall write more tomorrow, but if these emails to myself are ever published it will be quite a time after the event took place.  I did not bring my computer, or my camera.  I did not want to lug them around so I could lie back and smell the roses.  AND NO BLOG WRITING!  Well, technically I am not writing a blog, I am writing myself an email.  And maybe I’ll send it to my sister as well.

 

ALL IN A DAY

By Kathleen Martens

August 2, 2016

 

A day goes

Like the wind blows,

Willy and nilly

And sometimes silly.

 

Another day may contrive

Twist and turns to make you thrive.

And so many unknowns

Some days are shown.

 

But it matters not

You receive the unsought,

What comes, comes,

So no need to run.

 

Stand up and face

Whatever the race,

And be content

With circumstances sent.

 

Do what you must do

To make it through,

And you will find

Each day a gold mine,

 

Thank You God for a safe trip today.

Thank You for an awesome bus driver.

Thank You for the people you are allowing me to get to know.

And thank You Lord that You have given me strength so I can do all things through you.

GOOD NIGHT AND GOD BLESS YOU

 

Wednesday August 3 2016  YOU MUST SEE IT TO BELIEVE IT!

What an absolutely amazing day!  Sunup to sunset has been full to overflowing with new experiences, sights, sounds, and awesomeness.  Dave and I are so glad that we participated in this Prime Time Excursion to take part in our first Senior Citizen bus tour.  Even though my years and wrinkles speak loud and clear and I am a card carrying, Medicare senior citizen, my heart tells me differently.  Not only is it fun to be part of the graying crowd, it is also a delight to get to know the other “Prime Timers”.  After a couple of days in the confines of traveling together our guards come down, and we all realize, we are who we are, and no pretense needed.  To tell you the truth I have never truly believed that I have been taken seriously as an adult.  I remember turning 50 years old and wondering if I was now grown up.  I have come to the conclusion, no, I am not grown up, never have been, and at this late date, I don’t think I ever shall be.  I’ll just let other people think I am already entering my “second childhood” when the truth is, I never left my first.  It’s a fun place to be.

Our first stop was to visit Noah’s Ark built in the dimensions stated in the Bible.  It is beyond breathtaking, even at first glimpse from a distance.  The closer we got the more impressive it became, And then to walk up next to it and look up, that was simply staggering.  The rendition of Noah’s Ark is amazing from the outside but the outside doesn’t hold a candle stick to what was inside.  The magnitude of the support beams, the massive timbers, the roominess, and the 3.1 million board feet of lumber that was used to build it, staggers the visual senses.  As I walked up floor after floor of layout designs of cages, and storage, living quarters, and internal water ballast system, I was awe struck to think that Noah, along with his three sons could even build such a structure such as the ark in 120 years.

As the Bible describes the years it took to build such a design I never imagined the detail of the hand work that would be involved.  So much attention was given to detail.  I even wondered how it was even possible to build such a ship with our modern day accessories, tools, and computer sciences.  It is past phenomenal.  You would need to see it to believe!

Just as God brought the animals to the Ark, God also brought those whom were to be involved in the project to Ken Ham, the man who had the vision to build it.  A Christian designer and builder of Hollywood sets asked to be the designer.  Mr. Ham told him the Ark was already designed but he could be the lead architect.    Later the builders showed up without being asked.  The ark was built by teams of rotating Amish craftsmen who worked with hand tools.  The magnitude of the beams alone is just mind staggering.   The ark’s cost was $100 MILLION DOLLARS. 

Dave and I had lunch on an outside terrace while on the grounds of Noah’s Ark.  We then finished our tour and met back at the bus to go back to the hotel to drop off those who chose not to attend the afternoon festivities.  About 15 people stayed behind and the rest of us went on a tour of Cincinnati.  Cincinnati is a city of bridges.  The bridges crossing the Ohio River have a long, varied history unique to each bridge.  I could go on and on about all I saw but will refrain from doing so since I can’t remember the names of the places and have no time to look them up.  You just need to take my word for it and plan a trip for yourself.  Cincinnati is a beautiful and amazing jewel to discover.

We then went back to the hotel, picked up those we left behind and headed back to the Ohio River to board a large boat for a river cruise.  We were treated to live music, dinner on board, and we had quit a rip roaring time after dinner. 

The hotel computer was already in use when I returned and thus I am writing later than usual.  It is way past my bedtime and another day awaits me tomorrow.  And for some reason my text has a weird red line under about half of the lines and I don’t know if it will send copy the red line in my saved text.  Don’t ask me what it’s for because I do not know.  I may have bumped a button by accident and caused it to happen. 

 

OH MY GOODNESS

By Kathleen Martens

August 3, 2016

 

Oh my goodness

What am I thinking?

I almost closed out

Without even winking.

 

No poem yet written

So I cannot end!

Red line or not

I truly must send.

 

My poem to be short

After such a long day,

And to bed

I must make my way,

 

Tomorrow looms quickly

And the clock will sing

“It’s time to arise

As a new day I bring.”

 

So I bid you farewell

As I trot off to bed,

And will sleep the deep sleep

Of the living dead.

 

Good night sister dear

You’ll be the one tonight

That I send these words,

As cyberspace takes flight.

 

Thank You God for Your protection over our day.

Thank You that my heart is young and I enjoy living every single day.

Thank You for all the wonderful people who I am becoming acquainted with.

Thank You for joy.

Thank You again for prunes.

GOOD NIGHT AND GOD BLESS YOU!

 

Thursday August 4 2016  FLAT ON MY FACE

 Anticipating an exciting day ahead I determined that I would not be late for the bus when it left at 8:30 a.m.  But, this old age memory is at fault for a lot of things so I’ll just blame what happened to my brain.

 Dave and I are almost to the foyer of the hotel when I remembered that I didn’t remember to grab my sunglasses.  I gave Dave my bag and took off at a RUN (a literal run) to retrieve my glasses.  My sandal caught on the carpet and I was thrown into a forward propulsion of speed.  My feet were trying to keep up but I guess I was too top heavy and gravity got the best of me.  I went SPLAT, face forward, nose first, right down on the floor.  WHAMO!  CRACK! AND TOTAL QUIET.  Slammed my nose flat out, heard something snap, (thinking it was my glasses), and just lay there as still as a mouse.  A bit stunned but unsure what the damage might be. 

 One old woman prostrate on the floor, face down, not moving, and I hear someone trying to help me up.  I told them I thought I was okay but to give me a moment to access myself.  I was still and quiet until I heard someone holler, “Call 911.”  Still not moving I sternly said “ABSOLUTELY DO NOT CALL 911.  I’m leaving on a bus.  I just need to do an assessment”.  I gingerly turned over.  My neck seemed fine, my nose throbbed, my eye orbits burned from the skid, my left side felt like I had been hit by a bowling ball, and my nose was bleeding.  The left side of my abdomen and stomach had taken the brunt of the fall, landing on my fanny pack with three full bottles of water in it.  Again, someone wanted to pull me up.  “Nope, still doing my assessment,” I said.  When I decided (less than 2 minutes in total) I felt it was okay to get up.  By this time Dave had been summoned from the bus and he and the bus driver helped me stand. Then I ran lickety split back to the room to fetch my sunglasses.  And all that time, my sunglasses were safely stored in my fanny pack, which I had just landed on.

 My nose is bruised, my side a bit sore, and I’ve since discovered that I probably cracked my two ribs loose again on the same side I did three years ago.  However that was accessed later when I tried to lie back in a Star Gazer light show at the Creation Museum so I could watch a production on the ceiling.  Oh well, all said and done, I had a great day at the Creation museum.

 More about the Creation Museum later.

 

ONE OLD MARE

By Kathleen Martens

August 4, 2016

 

Lickety split

My world changed.

All because

My memory refrained

 

From reminding me

What I needed to know,

And that created

A spectacular show.

 

One old mare

Galloping down the hall

And her open shoes

Caused her to fall.

 

All is well

That ends okay.

Maybe tomorrow

Will be an even better day.

 Again Lord, thank You for Your care and concern for me.

Thank You for the experience of the Creation museum

Thank You for life.

Thank You for green apples.

 

VFM (My sister)

 These are your private blogs at present so I can write a note.  I only had 30 minutes to write this.  Bus is leaving again and I must go.  We are going out to dinner and I am never hungry at the right time.

 Love,

Wkm

 

 

Friday August 5 2016  THE JOURNEY HOME

 I was not late for the bus this morning!  There was no way in the world I would risk it.  After three days of busy activity I was ON THE WAY HOME.  I discovered that I enjoy bus travel.  This bus and bus driver may have spoiled me a bit however.  The bus had quite a few vacant seats and we could spread out so we were not so cramped.  Dave and I split up because I wanted to sit in the back of the bus so I could be close to the restroom.  That way I wouldn’t have to walk down the long aisle so many times.  Dave chose to sit toward the middle of the bus.  Thus, we both had two seats.

 My legs are short and often do not reach the floor when I sit down in chairs and seats.  If you have never had this probably then you have no idea how painful it can become behind the knees and in the spine after an extended period of time.  I brought on board an insulated bag with “real” food in it.  My bag was just the right height to prop my feet on.  And the plus side was that I had my food at my “toe tips” instead of at my fingertips!  I could then snack whenever I chose to do so.  It also gave me a world’s eye view because my window was unobstructed and the back seats were higher than all the other seats.  I also enjoyed standing up and walking up and down a few rows of seats that were not occupied and thus not disturb anyone.

 The bus driver was an amazing man.  He turned that long, wide, Badger Bus through perilous mazes, corners, back-ups, curves and rush hour traffic better than I ever thought humanly possible.  He was kind, friendly, helpful, and just an all round nice guy.  His amazing skill put me at ease. 

 

THE BUS DRIVER

By Kathleen Martens

August 5, 2016

 

A comfortable coach

In which to ride,

And a great driver

In whom to confide.

 

Walking into the unknown

Not knowing what to expect,

It was soon apparent to me

Our river was a man to respect.

 

Mr. Sammy Williams

Dressed to the nines,

With everything ready,

And always on time!

 

Extremely efficient

Confident and careful,

He was exemplary,

As well as quite prayerful.

 

He commanded the roads

With carefulness of space.

I knew He was covered

With God’s grace.

 

We thank you kind sir

For the help we received.

You have converted me

To bus tourism I believe.

 

But there is one thing

I’d like you to know,

YOU MUST BE THE DRIVER

WHEREVER I GO!

 

Always a smile

On your wonderful face,

And a confident grasp

As down the steps we raced.

 

All your kind gestures,

Unnoticed they are not.

A man of your talent

Significantly sought.

 

We thank you so much

For all you have done.

You had a great part

Making our week fun.

 We left the hotel at 8:30 a.m. and arrived at the church parking lot to transfer to our cars by 5:30 p.m.  We arrived home by 6:30 p.m.  YEAH!  We had water…FOR ABOUT 10 MINUTES!  And then the well shut off again.  More phone calls and the earliest appointment is for Saturday morning.  So, here we are once again without water.  I went next door to scrub the day’s travel off my hands so I could fix dinner.  No showers available tonight, but I will heat some water so we can soak our eyes and wash our faces before bedtime.

    We decided to wait until Monday to have our new pump installed because it will be so much more expensive if it is scheduled on a weekend.  We were not given a confirmation for a Monday appointment because there could possibly be another emergency call at that time.  I was baffled.  I asked him if ours was not already an emergency.  We went ahead and made an appointment to have the plumber come tomorrow to see if he could get the well started again as a stop-gap until Monday.  Oh well, life is life.  Even when he comes out it won’t guarantee that our pump will last longer than 15 minutes or that we’ll even have it installed by Monday.

 So, I went to bed.

Lord, thank You for our safe return. 

Thank You God for running water.

Thank You for the energy to last through this day.

Thank You for toilets that will flush again.

GOOD NIGHT AND GOD BLESS YOU!

 

 Saturday August 6 2016  BLOSSOMING PAIN

 So I am told that the third day is the worst.  That is, the third day after my fall I will feel the full brunt of my injuries.  And they grow. The day I fell I actually felt okay once I conquered the internal swelling of my nose.  Cold water bottles held on it for a while following the fall help a lot to keep the swelling and bruising down.  I must admit, I do have a beautiful blue nose bridge that brightens up my face but the swelling has gone down considerably.

 The bruises on the rest of my body have blossomed in the interim of the past three day.  My knees are decorated, my abdomen is quite festive, my rib area is bruised with dots, my arms are spotted with circles of discoloration, and almost every part my body hurts.  I am extremely sore, throbbing pain in some areas, dull aches in others, and sharp shooting stabs of discomfort when I move a bit in the wrong direction. 

 After unpacking I collapsed into bed last night by 11:00 p.m.  I slept deeply until 3:00 p.m.  I was unable to go back to sleep due to severe pain in my knee.  Worse than the pain in my knee was the pain in my ribs when I tried to turn over. 

 Before I went to sleep I called the nurse on call for a consultation.  She instructed me to go to the Emergency Room.  I refused.  She then instructed me to go into urgent care on Saturday morning.  Again I said no.  Urgent care has made too many incorrect diagnoses on our family members.  So the nurse on call checked to see if there were any doctors who had an appointment still available for Saturday.  She found one last appointment and set it up for me.  I promised to go the next morning.  And so I did.

 I have separated two or three floating ribs from the cartilage (a repeat injury).  I have soreness and contusions from the fall, my nose is probably not broken as it looks good from the inside, I am bruised and contused, and stiff, and sore, and the doctor recommend pain relievers.  The strongest I will take is Tylenol.  So when I arrived home I did just that.  I actually even rested for a half hour.  The verdict is; I survived the fall and must now limit my exercise to doing only that which doesn’t exacerbate my pain.  Maybe I’ll just have to go to the gym and sit.  That is, as long as my feet will touch the floor.

 Now, let’s go back to the saga of the well.  We spoke with our son early this morning and he suggested rather than hiring the same company who put our last pump in 21 years ago we should get some additional bids.  So bright and early I called several other places.  Found a reputable, family run business in a little town about 40 minutes away.  Dave and I both liked what he had to say.  He (the owner) would come out today, as he was the one on call, and replace the well pump.  His company was much larger than the one we originally planned to go with.  AND WE WERE THE EMERGENCY!  I called the other business, told the man not to come and explained that we had another bid and it could be done today without costing time and a half.  We don’t have the bill yet but the total will probably amount to about half, or perhaps even less, than the first business I called.  Smaller town businesses almost always have better prices.  In our panic and need to leave town we didn’t have much time to do much calling at midnight last Monday night.

 While I went to the doctor’s office Dave waited for the plumber to come.  It took about four hours to install the pump.  His demeanor was great, he exuded confidence in what he was doing and explained everything he did.  He instructed us on how to operate the new pump, and told us how to determine by certain sounds and clicks if our pump was performing efficiently.  He also said our electricity bill should drop by about $30 dollars or more a month.  That is a great side benefit.  He will send someone out next week to make certain everything is working efficiently.  He will also collect a water sample for testing.  The water sample is required by law.  We do not drink or cook with well water because of living in the middle of farm country.  We are surrounded by crops.  And unfortunately pesticides are used.

 WE CAN NOW TAKE A SHOWER!  And the best part is we do not have to wait until Monday to find out if the other business has another emergency call before they can come out to service us.  

 

NEVER TAKE IT FOR GRANTED

By Kathleen Martens

August 6, 2016

 

Thank You God for running water

Let us never take it for granted.

How quickly messes accumulate

And my environment becomes so slanted.

 

And Thank You Lord that You have taught

Me how to not worry.

Such a gift to live in the moment

Without always needing to hurry.

 

And thank You Lord for the lesson taught,

That worry helps not one little bit!

And You always provide the solutions

That always seems to fit.

 

Thank You for the lessons learned

Of how difficult it must be,

To live in a country that is so poor

Running water they never see.

 

Teach me not to complain or fret

For the inconvenience of just a few days,

While so many in the world toil

Without running water EVER coming their way.

 

Thank You God for your provision.

Thank You for the opportunities of living in The United States.

Thank You also that we were able to find the right person to do our job.

Thank You for dishwashers.

Thank You for Cascade.

Thank You for toilets that flush.

Thank You that I survived my fall.

Thank You for a wise son.

 

 Sunday August 8 2016  A DAY OF REST (actually written Monday August 9, 2016)

 I was able to go to church yesterday.  Hopefully the soreness and pain is reaching its climatic proportions because yesterday was quite a rough day.  After lunch I slept for over three hours.  I then spent most of the afternoon lying prone on my back and it was lovely.  I received phone calls from some very close friends and thoroughly enjoyed my time down to talk on the phone.  Television and phone calls are very low on my average day’s agenda due to my schedule so it was such a pleasure to indulge.

 I snacked for dinner, put my eye paste in my eyes and climbed back into bed.  AND THEN I REMEMBERED!  I had not written a poem for the day.  Now that is something that is near and dear to my heart.  So I put my glasses back on (little could I see), retrieved my journal and sat down and scribbled out a quick poem.  Here it is:

 

MY PROMISE TO THE LORD

By Kathleen Martens

August 7, 2016

 

Time to retire.

My sleep has come.

My eyes are blurry

But I can still see some.

 

So I write to my Lord

With thanks in my heart

For this restful day,

And tomorrow’s new start.

 

Thanks you Lord for the reminder

That I not forget to give

My poem of love and sacrifice

To my Savior who lives.

 

Though my body is weary

From all my pain,

I know the lessons I learn

Will be for my gain.

 

I’ll gain knowledge and wisdom

As You reveal Your plan,

And with humbleness I come

To obey your commands.

 

As long as it is possible

I pray to remember my word

To write my promise to You

So Your voice will be heard.

 

 

After I finished the poem I made my way back to bed and slept over nine hours.  I am feeling better today.

 

 MY GIFT TO THE LORD TODAY

By Kathleen Martens

August 8, 2016

 

I close this long saga

With a poem of thanks

To the King of kings

Of the highest rank!

 

My Savior and Redeemer,

My provider and Friend.

He is always with me,

And His love He sends.

 

There aren’t enough words

That can speak my heart

In describing the glory of God,

And His magnificent art.

 

The amazing universe

In its infinite design

Speaks so perfectly

Of God’s timeline.

 

There is only one God

And He is the creator of all

And He planned a perfect world

Until sin caused the fall.

 

And though we now suffer

The consequences of sin,

Because of His Son’s death on the cross

Heaven’s gates open in.

 

He bids us to come

And to sit by His side

And when we leave this world

With Him we’ll abide.

 

Thank You Lord for your omnipotence.

Thank You Lord that Your creation is not a “THEORY”.

Thank You Father that your brought someone here to my house so I could give to someone today.

Thank You this time together with You.

Thank You again for watermelon!

 GOOD NIGHT AND GOD BLESS YOU.

 I HOPE SOMEONE MAKES IT THROUGH THIS “BOOK” BLOG TODAY.   At least if all goes well in publishing it I will have it for my record.

 

 

 

 

 

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!