Visions of Poetry

Sunday Sabbath March 6 2016  THE CONCEPT OF ENOUGH

When is enough, enough?  And of what, must we have enough?

Dave gave me the title for this blog.  We were talking yesterday, and to be truthful, I don’t even remember exactly what we were talking about but he asked the question, when is enough, enough?  He then suggested it would be a good blog topic.  And then he just said I should write about “THE CONCEPT OF ENOUGH”.  So there I have it.  A new blog title without thought as to what I will write.

So here goes.

There are some absolutes as to what we must have “enough” of in order to literally survive.  First and foremost, we must have enough air.  We must have enough water.  We must have enough food.  We must have enough protection from the elements (I can vouch for that living in Wisconsin), both in housing and clothing.  And the list could just keep going if I wanted to be nitpicky.  We must have enough energy and capacity to work in order to buy enough food and housing and clothing.  We must have enough education in order to get the job to buy the “enough stuff”.  We must have a car or other transportation in order to get to the job and as you can see the list can just keep on going.

But what about once we become settled in our life and we have the education, the job, the food, the clothing, the shelter, and the water and air?  Then we want the bigger house, the better clothing, the finer car, the sparkling waters, the fine restaurants, the big screen TV’s in every room of the house, and the maid to keep it all up.  And then we must work more, to earn more, to have more…When is enough, enough?

It reminds me of the story in 1^st Kings, chapter 17 at a time when there was a drought.  The Lord directed Elijah to go to a ravine east of the Jordan and he would find a brook to drink from and God would have the Ravens feed him.  He did as he was told.  Finally the brook dried up because of the lack of rain.  Once again the Lord directed Elijah to take a journey and go to a city where he would meet a widow.  He did as he was told, and when he arrived, he found the widow picking up sticks for firewood.  Elijah asked her to bring him a drink of water and a piece of bread to eat. 

The story continues in 1^st Kings 17: 13-15 NIV: “ ‘As surely as the Lord your God lives,’ she replied, ‘I don’t have any bread—only a handful of flour in a jar and a little oil in a jug.  I am gathering a few sticks to take home and make a meal for myself and my son, that we may eat it—and die.’

Elijah said to her, ‘Don’t be afraid.  Go home and do as you have done.  But first make a small cake of bread for me from what you have and bring it to me, and then make something for yourself and your son.  For this is what the Lord, the God of Israel, says: ‘The jar of flour will not be used up and the jug of oil will not run dry until the day the Lord gives rain on the land.’

She went away and did as Elijah had told her.  So there was food every day for Elijah and for the woman and her family.  For the jar of flour was not used up and the jug of oil did not run dry, in keeping with the word of the Lord spoken by Elijah.”

As I thought about this story in the Old Testament I began to realize “THE CONCEPT OF ENOUGH”.  God, in His abundance, could have given the widow an abundance and even overabundance of much more than just oil and flour.  God’s scriptures promises that God provides for all our needs.  It does not say that God is going to give us everything in the world that we could feasibly fathom.  God provided for Elijah as well as for the widow and her son with just enough.  Notice how it was even determined just how long it would be provided.  His provision was enough to last until the drought was over.

This story reminded me of a time in our lives when Dave came home from work one Thursday and no longer had a job.  Several of the executives in the bank where he worked were downsized out of a job.  It was unexpected and we were unprepared for this type of a “disaster”.  I was a full time stay at home mom and did not work.  Nor did I want to work outside of the home and leave our young children.  We prayed.  Dave was over 40, over-qualified for most of the job positions available and no one wanted to hire someone who was in his salary bracket.  Dave didn’t care about the salary as much as he just wanted to get a job and get back into the workplace.  He worked full time sending out resumes, and working with head-hunters.  It was apparent that I would need to go to work. 

We thought this situation would be somewhat temporary so rather than leave our children with someone else we decided that I would open a daycare in our home and provide care for other people’s children.  And we prayed a lot.  We also promised that we would not allow the devil to gain a foothold in our marriage and tear our family apart.  There is a lot of stress and depression that can manifest during a crisis such as this.  AND WE PRAYED!  A LOT! 

My main prayer was that God would provide all our needs and that Dave would be able to find work.  As the weeks and months and then years started rolling by, our prayers, the daycare business, and Dave’s part time jobs he obtained once in a while kept us afloat.  Barely.  It was during those three years without insurance or employment that we learned THE CONCEPT OF ENOUGH.  We felt as if   we should put our home on the market.  We surrendered all we had so that God could take us down the path he had for us.  Was it difficult?  You bet it was.  Neither of us wanted to sell but we were willing to do it if it was what God wanted.  Each month I would collect all the monies that came in week after week and scrape together enough to pay our house payment.  Only one month during the three years of Dave’s unemployment did we not come up with the entire amount needed to pay our house payment.  The month we were short we received just enough to make a late payment and it was only 5 days late.  We didn’t even have to pay a late fee because it was still in the “grace” period.  After months of keeping the house spotless for looky-loos we decided to take it off the market.  And we prayed some more.  We were still scraping by.  Dave was able to get some sales jobs at furniture stores but the furniture business was also not doing so well and the store’s ethics and Dave’s integrity were not a match.  You might be surprised at how certain businesses train their sales force.  Dave was taken aback by some of what he was supposed to do and say.  He could not stay and work with a clear conscience. 

Daily we trusted the Lord.  Daily the Lord provided.  We always had “ENOUGH” to eat.  It might not have been fancy or even very healthy, but our kids were not hungry.   Day by day, week by week, month by month, and year by year God continually provided us with enough.  AND FOR EVERYTHING, WE WERE SO GRATEFUL!

I remember our son asking us if we were going to be homeless.  It tore my heart out.  So many aspects of your lives change when you don’t have a job.  My business grew, God provided all the children I needed, I went back to night school during those years for my early childhood education, became licensed and hired people to work for me.  It was still financially tight.  It was still rough and it took a lot of energy to keep my prayer life and my emotions from plummeting into despair.  I did break down a few times.  Dave and I had promised to always be there for the other if one was sinking.  And he was there for me and I was able to help pull him up a few times when he felt he was drowning.  And through it all, God was right there by our side. 

It would take a book to tell you all I learned in those three years when Dave was without gainful employment and the two years following his return to work.  It certainly felt like we were going through a desert at the time.  I look back now and I know it was during those times when God worked on my heart in so many ways.  He taught me how to not be so judgmental.  People would come and see our home and wonder why we were in need.  I can’t begin to tell you how humbling it was to accept food boxes from church for holiday meals.  We never asked, but undoubtedly, someone else asked for us.   And I can’t tell you how much joy and gratefulness was included in those two boxes filled with a turkey and a ham and all the fixings for a Thanksgiving dinner.  Never underestimate what your giving is doing in the lives of others.  And never judge a book by its cover.  Yes, our house was beautiful, well decorated, comfortable, and like any house, expensive to run.  If you don’t know the details of another’s life, there is no room for judgement.  Those food boxes fed us a lot longer than just one Thursday in November.   We probably ate for two weeks or more on the meals I prepared from that turkey dinner.

We found that a lot of people we knew were uncomfortable around us, yes, even some from church.  I don’t think people know what to say or perhaps they were afraid we were going to ask to borrow money.  It was painful but I never held it against them.  Our experience taught us how to interact with people who were experiencing what we experienced during our time in the desert.  I tried to figure out ways we could help.  And that is another whole story in itself.  God filled my heart with compassion and concern for those going through similar situations.  God doesn’t waste a lesson on any of His children.  He uses all that we go through to show us how we can be the best we can be.  He takes what the devil meant for harm and turns it into something good. 

Because of the length of this blog I going to draw it to a close, but this story is far from finished.  I would like to tell you the journey of the years following, once Dave was again gainfully employed on a full time basis WITH INSURANCE!  It was in a totally different line of work than being the Vice President/Manager of the main office of a large bank.  He was hired for less than half of what he made previously.  Guess what, I was the owner of a day care for many more years.  AND GOD ALWAYS PROVIDED…ENOUGH!

 

JUST ENOUGH

By Kathleen Martens

March 6, 2016

 

When trials come

And troubles brew

It could be

God is talking to you.

 

When life is weary

And full of pain

And by a thread

You are staying sane.

 

So many times

So unprepared

For the unexpected

And all the cares.

 

The world falls silent,

And you feel alone.

There is one

To whom all is known.

 

It is God

Who by your side,

Through all your woes

He will abide.

 

What you need,

Regardless your sorrow,

He is with you

In all tomorrows.

 

Regardless how destitute

You may become,

He will pick you up,

Because you’re His son.

 

And those times

When out of stuff,

He will offer

Just enough.

 

He is your port

In any storm.

And His comfort

Should be your norm.

 

And He will shield

You from all harm.

And He will hold you

In His arms.

 

Do not despair

Or turn your back.

Our mighty King

Provides all lack.

 

His scriptures promise

Adequate supply.

And your essentials

He’ll not deny.

 

Just pray and ask

When things get rough.

He always provides

What is enough.

 

Good night and God bless you. 

P.S.  If you did not read last Sunday’s blog you might find it interesting to read in light of today’s topic.  It is the true story of a recent event when God did even more than provide “just enough”.  It shows the miraculous power of him providing above and beyond what was needed in quite a remarkable way.

 

Saturday March 5 2016  TIME, OUR TEMPORARY HOME

If my mother were still alive she would turn 98 years old this year.  I remember when she was in her 60’s, 70’s, and 80’s it seemed as if she attended at least one or two funerals every single week.  She lived in Arkansas in an area where she had friends that dated back to her school days.  And she also had a lot of relatives.  During those decades in Arkansas she lived part of them with her mother and some of the funerals were for her mother’s friends as well.  Her mother was actually the last surviving person of her graduating class.  It is a sobering thought to experience the death of so many in your later years.  Either you are attending the funerals of those you knew, or they are experiencing yours.  Dave’s father stopped reading the obituaries in his 90’s, because by then, all his contemporaries had already died.  He lived to 101 years old.

Well, today I went to a funeral.  As far as funerals go, it was mighty fine!  I mean that in all sincerity.  It was a funeral such as I have never attended.  John, the deceased, marched to his own tune.  At times he could  be hard to live with and did not always have the best of manners.  However, seen through the eyes of his son, who was the minister that delivered his eulogy, an entirely different perspective was brought to light.  The son himself, admitted to the adjectives I used above, but also showed his father from the perspective of a child’s love, expressing honor to a father who was always there for him.  And as always, it seemed that I left knowing more about the person from what was said after they died, than I ever knew while they lived.  Funerals are a place of education.  I always learn a lot when I attend a funeral.  And today I learned a whole lot more than I expected to learn.  It was enlightening and it was refreshing.  I walked away understanding that there is so much more to the inner workings of some people than I even imagined.

My cousin was buried yesterday and had no funeral.  Most of her family have moved away from the area where she lived and her mother, my aunt, is in an assisted living facility and cannot get out easily due to her own health.  She is in her mid-eighties.  At a later date there will be a memorial service for my Cousin Cynthia held at the facility where my aunt resides.  Our family is aging and there are but just a handful left here and there around the country.  There are lots of cousins but they are all spread out.  It is my generation that now bids farewell to the cousins of their youth.

And my sister too will be attending a funeral this week.  Her close friend and neighbor for the past 54 years died within the same few days as did my friend’s husband and my cousin.  I wish I could be there in California with my sister as she grieves for the loss of her friend.  Perhaps there would be some comfort I could extend.  I was only acquainted with Ruth through brief encounters but I can still imagine the loss my sister must feel.  It does not matter in old age that your friend is old.  What matters is the person you know deep inside, and it has nothing to do with how many wrinkles are on their face.

In the book, “A GIFT OF A YEAR” I read a sentence that said, “Time isn’t our enemy.  It’s our home.”  Relating to some instances I might agree with that to some extent.  At least, that time is our home WHILE we are here on earth.  The way I really see it, is that this earth is but my temporary home.  I am just passing through a period of time that earth measures on a calendar.   Time is the measurement of how long I live in the confines of earth.  My spirit is eternal, and it will continue to live, even after my time on earth ends.  And it is only then that I will truly be home.  I know I am taking this statement out of context from the book, but just from reading the few pages I have read, I surmise that the author and I are coming from two different perspectives as to what time really means to the person who knows God.  From my point of view “TIME” is like living in a holding pattern, waiting for the landing.  My landing comes when I take my last breath on earth and step into the light of my Savior’s arms.  OH WHAT A “TIME” THAT WILL BE!  And when my “TIME” comes, I think John will be one of those that will greet me for my HOMECOMING right along with my cousin Cynthia.   I fear not when my time on earth is done.  I just hope that I will not leave grieving hearts behind, but rather hearts that are rejoicing because they know that I have come in for my “landing”.  As cantankerous as John could be at times, I know he consecrated his heart to God, and today I stand rejoicing for where he is, not that his time on earth has ended.  John has come in for a “PERFECT LANDING” and I’m just a bit envious that he is already in the Lord’s presence and my run-way has not yet been cleared for landing. 

Time on earth is our friend when we use it to become better acquainted with the God who created us.

 

TIME, A GIFT OF PURE LOVE

By Kathleen Martens

March 5, 2016

 

This world is our home

For but a short stay.

It is our training ground

To learn God’s way.

 

We are born for a reason,

For God has a plan.

He has designed an eternity

For each woman, each man.

 

Our very days numbered,

Counted in time.

When we walk on earth,

In days confined.

 

Time has no constraint

For what is to come,

When we cross into eternity

To meet God’s son.

 

Hours will no longer hold

Us hostage in a world.

Forever we’ll be

Into eternity hurled.

 

And oh what a day

Of rejoicing it will be,

When we meet Jesus,

Forever more free.

 

Time isn’t our enemy

But a gift of pure love

To introduce us to God

Who lives in heaven above.

 

My Prayer of Thanksgiving:

O God, I give you great thanks for giving me a godly mother who taught me Your way.  Thank You for the prayers she prayed for her children, that they would open their hearts to You.  Thank You for opening my heart and accepting you as my Lord and Savior who died on the cross to forgive my sins. 

Thank You too God for being with me each step I take, for giving me comfort when I need comfort and for giving me strength when I need strength.  And most of all, I thank You for loving me first and teaching me to love You, and teaching me to love myself, and showing me how to love others. 

Thank You for all the healings you have done in my life, spiritually, emotionally, and physically.  Thank You for abiding in me through Your Holy Spirit so that I am never alone.  Thank You for taking all my cares upon You and that I need never worry about tomorrow.  You are my strength.  You are my deliverer. 

And Thank You God that you have promised Your children in 2^nd Peter 1:11  that we “WILL RECEIVE A RICH WELCOME INTO THE ETERNAL KINGDOM OF OUR LORD AND SAVIOR, JESUS CHRIST”.  Thank you Lord for the rich welcome you made possible for John and Cynthia and Ruth.  I thank You that I have Your promise to hold in my heart until the day that I too shall see You face to face.  Amen

Good night and may God bless you richly.  Remember, His promise of eternal salvation is extended to all who just reach out in faith, and receive it.

Thursday March 3 2016  THE PERPLEXING MYSTERY

It sounds like a Nancy Drew Mystery title.  Many of my readers may not be old enough to know who Nancy Drew was.  I wonder if the series is still around in the modern day world?  I read every Nancy Drew Mystery written by Carolyn Keene.  An interesting note regarding Keene is the fact that Keene was a pseudonym used by several writers that contributed to the series.  Each writer was paid $125 per book.  I believe the books were first marketed in the 1930’s and 1940’s.  The statement “You’ve come a long way baby” speaks for itself in regards to the rights of the author.  Just think what some authors earn now through their literary skills.

Now, back to my perplexing mystery.  “The mystery of the splatters” is what I shall call it.  It began on a cold bleak day over one year ago.  I took my car into the Kia Dealership to have a warranty oil change performed.  It was extremely cold.  If I remember correctly it was just a few degrees upward of ZERO.  Now that is a cold day.  I have sense enough to know that you NEVER wash a car when it is below freezing.  The water freezes almost immediately upon contact with the outside air.  I specifically told the man I checked in with that I DID NOT WANT MY CAR WASHED THAT DAY.  The Dealership usually includes a car wash with each oil change.  Well, when I went outside to pick up my car there it was, frozen like a Popsicle.  I opened the back door to set something on the seat and the door resisted a bit.  Well, a couple of minutes later I tried to open the driver’s door and I could not get it open.  I kept pulling at it, and finally I heard what sounded like a loud gunshot as the door reluctantly opened a bit.  I forced it open so I could get in.  I grabbed a towel and dried as much of the water off as I could around the opening.  I got in, struggled to get the door closed and drove away.  I was just hoping that when I got home I would be able to open the door to get out.

The weather last year was not delightful.  We had a lot of snow.  It was snowy, slushy, icy, and mucky (all mixed with road dirt).  After I had my oil change and the frozen door incident, a couple of days later something happened.  I went out to the car early in the morning, and when I started to get into the driver’s seat, it looked as if someone had taken some diluted white paint and splattered it all over the interior of my car.  It was under the dashboard, on the sides of the door, all over the front controls, the steering wheel and steering column,  and even deep inside the hooded part of the dashboard where the odometer and speedometer are.  Even the sides of the seat were splattered.  The splatters actually reached into the back seat area too.  I took my car into the dealership and simply said “LOOK”.  Well…actually I said a lot of other things too.  All polite and nice but they knew I wasn’t a happy camper. 

The dealership had absolutely no clue as to what was going on.  They cleaned it up.  I went back out on the road and within a couple of days the splatters were back with a vengeance.  I took the car in, and the service department cleaned it up again.  We started brainstorming.  My suspicion was that when I opened the frozen car door a seal had been disturbed or broken.  I had a difficult time convincing them of that.  The service men searched and searched and could not find the breech.  The sad part about the whole thing was that I had just had my car detailed a week or so prior to that frozen car wash.  When I mentioned how disappointed I was about what was happening and that I had just paid for a detailing they took it back in and detailed it for free.

Time after time I would bring my messy car in and they would clean it out.  On two or three occasions they kept it for long periods of time.  They replaced seals and removed and repositioned trims  on the outside that surround the windows.  

The roads cleared up.  I had no more trouble for a few weeks and then lots of snow and muck again and WHAMO.  I was back in “Streak City” inside my car.  The thing was, I could never tell when it was happening.  After the water drops dried, the salt streaks appeared.  I could not see where they were coming from.  The mystery of the splattering was like trying to solve a murder mystery with blood splatters.  Where were they coming from?  Exactly where were they intruding?  By this time the consensus was that it was road salt.  I was promised that anytime it happened, until they could find the cause, that my car would be detailed for free.  So, when it happened I was there for a complete detailing job.  Sometimes just a couple of weeks apart. 

Before I left on my trip last year, the car frame around the front car door was taken apart and hopefully repaired.  Well, I never had another chance to test it.  I left on my trip, headed south and did not confront any snow on my entire trip.  Fast forward to now.  Dave has done most of the driving since I’ve been home so we can put the mileage on his car while it is still under warranty.  I have done very little driving in the snow, until this past week.  And BAMO!  The perplexing mystery returns.  It has been quite slushy the past few days and because of our schedules I have had to do my own driving around town.  A couple of days ago I noticed a couple of little splatters but thought that perhaps my foot had splattered something getting in.  I am usually very careful about that but I supposed it could happen.  I was up and out of the house very early this morning for a therapy session on my torn rotatory cuff, then to the gym and on to Aldi’s for last minute cooking items.  When I came out from the store the sun was up and  the light was good.  I opened the door to get into the car and the brightness exposed all that my dark garage could not.  I was in Splattersville again!  All over the sides and underneath everything, the seats, the console, you name it, was splattered.  You may wonder why I don’t feel the splats.  Remember, it is cold here.  I am covered from head to foot, gloves, scarves, long thick coat, pants, two pair of stockings, and to top it off, a doubled over wool blanket covering my legs and lap.  I don’t feel a thing through all those layers.

Well, my car will be the recipient of another free detail job this week.  I must drop my car off tomorrow, pick up a loaner, and one of the service techs is going to wipe the interior down and drive it all weekend.  There is snow in the forecast and hopefully it will be slushy.  I asked him if he was doing it because he did not believe that I was telling the truth about the splatters.  He said no, it is just the policy that everything has to be verified and that he hopes to figure out where the water may be penetrating.  When it first happened I had to verify with everyone around me that they had not splattered something in my car.  So I called Dave and asked him if he had opened my car door and flecked all those spatters into the car.  I really believe that at first they thought I was doing it myself.  Amazing.

So, I pray for snow.  I pray for muck. I pray that they will find the out what exactly is happening and where the droplets are coming from.  Maybe I shall take some more pictures of it before I take it in tomorrow.  I’ve already deleted all of last year’s photos from my phone.

So, the plot thickens.  The good thing is that I will have a detailing before we leave on our next quest.  Just last week I told Dave that I was so happy that I had not had any muck in the car this winter and that I planned to have it detailed when we arrived home from our jaunt.  I had planned to pay just like I normally do.  And then this happened.  And believe me, it is only a detailing job that will take care of this matter.  It is extensive.

So that was my plight this morning.  I came home and have been cooking the rest of the day.  Actually I still have food on the stove cooking as I write this.  I must now leave to take over a pots of soup and rice for my friend Judy, whose husband’s funeral is Saturday.  With her family visiting from out of town I suspected the extra food would come in handy.  I meant to do it yesterday but was waylaid with my vertigo attack.

 

 

SPLATTERSVILLE, KIA SOUL

By Kathleen Martens

March 3, 2016

 

A place of unknown origin

Deep in the planet CAR

A very secret hiding place

Where splatters can go far.

 

But when or where,

From whence they come?

In they tiptoe

To have some fun.

 

Splatter lines

From unknown source,

Enter quietly 

With great force.

 

They do their duty,

Drop here and there.

Decorating profusely

While they share.

 

To rid my “SOUL”

Of all the muck,

Is my goal

With any luck.

 

But time again

In happy tune

They laugh in unison

As they ruin.

 

And the mystery

In secret held

From whence they came

Is not dispelled. 

 

God bless you and have a great night’s sleep!

 

 

Wednesday March 2 2016  DON’T WAIT UNTIL THE LAST MINUTE

This is my Wonderful Wednesday but it didn’t go quite like I had hoped.  So I am just rolling with the punches.  Since we were not able to drive in the snow yesterday I was unable to collect all the foodstuff necessary for cooking today.  That took many hours away from my STAY AT HOME DAY.  My priority for today was changed and I had to go out.

First thing on my list was to have a fasting blood drawn.  It was only last night that I opened an email from my doctor’s office which informed me that I had to have blood drawn for my physical on Tuesday.  I had to go in today to make that work.  I received the message on 2/25/16 but only opened it last night.  Oops!  I get so many emails that it takes me a few days to get around to everything I need to open.  So my advice to you and any who want to take it, don’t wait until the last minute to do what you could do sooner.

Everything from yesterday caught up with me.  I was up until 11:00 P.M. (two hours past my bedtime), woke at 3:00 A.M. and could not go back to sleep.  I finally got out of bed and was awake the rest of the night.  I never do well if I do not get enough sleep, and 4 hours of sleep is not enough!  By the time I arrived home this afternoon I was barely able to function.  I ate some lunch and then crashed.  When I over extend myself or go without adequate sleep, I absolutely start spinning.  Vertigo comes over me with such force that I can do nothing else but lie down.  That was one concern I had last year before I left on my trip.  I determined I would be as kind to myself as possible and be certain I had all the rest I needed, and never once did I get an attack of the world spinning out of place.  I must remember to slow down and be kind to myself now that I am retired.

I have rested and now I am doing better.  I did not sleep, but just lying down helped a lot, that and the food I ate for lunch.  The only concern I have is, that all the cooking I was planning to do today may be put on the back burner (no pun intended), and it will be waiting for me to do tomorrow.  Tomorrow already has its own concerns because it is already punctuated with appointments.  I actually had planned to have this food prepared today so I could take it over to my friend’s tonight.  She has family from out of town staying with her.  Her husband’s funeral is Saturday.  I plan to cook for the funeral tomorrow after two morning appointments.  Our son called this afternoon and needs emergency childcare tomorrow for both children (about 40 minutes away) and both Dave and I are fragmented with appointments we cannot change.  So my advice, don’t wait until the last moment to do what needs to be done.  You never know what may thwart your plans.  And then again, some things must be done at the last minute when it comes to cooking.  So of course I am torn between the commitments I already have, and wanting to help our son in his situation.  Dave is also tied to certain commitments that he cannot cancel.

So here I am.  My head is no longer spinning.  Dave just arrived home to finish up the work I could not do on some of the food I brought home today, and I am here sounding like a belly aching old woman.  It’s just the facts ma’am, just the facts.

I guess I said all the above so you would know why I can’t write a blog today.  And now I realize I should have just written whatever I was going to write and not belly ached about what is going on in this aging body.  Every single day I forget that I am old.  Only when I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror do I remember.  Maybe that short term memory loss is a good thing sometime.  And sometimes I wonder what I REALLY look like, because I don’t see quite as well as I used to either.

 

DON’T DO AS I DO

DO AS I SAY

By Kathleen Martens

March 2, 2016

 

 

Do what you enjoy

Every hour you live.

And to yourself,

Rest do give.

 

Think things through

And plan ahead.

Go to sleep early,

And be well fed.

 

When you’ve lived long

You don’t bounce as well.

Balance your life

And you’ll get along swell.

 

Forget not your limits,

Do not over extend.

Yesterday has

No oomph to send.

 

Instead save up

On today’s supply,

So that tomorrow

Will comply.

 

Because the unexpected

Can zap your energy,

Plan hours carefully

To extend your synergy.

 

Don’t do as I do

Rather do as I say.

Rest and relax

And take time to play.

 

And wouldn’t you know it, today I had so much I wanted to say.  I’ll save it for another day (that is, if I remember).

God bless you and have a wonderful rest of the day.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Tuesday March 1 2016  IT’S TIME TO GET READY FOR CHRISTMAS (PLANNING FOR THE PERFECT DAY)

When March rolls around (or comes galloping in) that’s when I always tell Dave, “Well, it’s time to get ready for Christmas”.  March seems to come in the blink of an eye once the calendar turns to a new year.  And here I sit, with so much to do, and I know I won’t be able to get it all done before Christmas. You know how you feel those last couple of weeks before Christmas when you are trying to remember all the final details of what must be done by such and such a date?  Well, that seems the way my life goes.  I usually have some sort of deadline looming before me and it seems I only meet my goals just in the nick of time.  And so, I start in March preparing for Christmas and rarely do I even put up a Christmas tree.  I always run out of time!  Oh well, maybe this year.

I have two or three blogs I enjoy reading.  Most of the other bloggers do not write as often as I do, but I check in once or twice a week, to see if there is news on their home front.  One blog I especially enjoy reading is written by an author named Sarah Loudin Thomas.  Her web address is  http://www.sarahloudinthomas.com  if you are interested in following her.  I read her most recent blog this morning while I was on the hydro-massage table at the gym.  (That is my perk each day after I work out).  She was commenting about what it would be like to have a FREE DAY to do whatever she wanted to do.  I enjoyed reading about her dream day.  After I read her blog I put my phone down, enjoying my wonderful back massage, and spent the rest of my time on the massage table contemplating about what would be the perfect day of freedom for me.   Fortunately for me, I have already had some of what I call “perfect days”.  I liked her idea of calling it a FREE DAY.  It connotes freedom and so much more.

Later in the morning Dave and I were coming home after having our taxes done and I asked him the question,  “What would he would do if he could do exactly as he wanted for one entire day?”  First, he said it would depend upon the season.  Living in Wisconsin, that is definitely a key factor.  My previously perfect days have always taken place during good weather months.  As we were discussing the daydream of the perfect day we were driving about 20 miles per hour on icy roads thick with snow.  There was ice on the windshield that the wipers could barely keep up with, and the snow was fiercely swirling around us, causing a hazard, both to our driving, and our visibility.  Hmmm…the perfect day, what would we do on THAT day?

Dave chose a summer day.  He would like to be outside, sitting in warm sunshine, just enjoying the quiet and solitude (notice I am not there with him, otherwise he wouldn’t be in solitude, nor would it be quiet).  I didn’t feel the least bit perturbed about that.  I know that just being alone in nature would make the day perfect for him.  He did say that maybe he would read some too.

In regards to my day of freedom, I didn’t care if it was cold or warm.  Absolutely any day would make a perfect day for me if I could do exactly what I wanted to do.  I would want to go to bed on time (9:00 p.m.) the night before so I would wake up naturally between 4:30 and 5:00 a.m.  Then I would stay in my housecoat and do my getting ready routines for the morning.  However, instead of dressing, I just might stay in my housecoat (ALL DAY).  I would have my favorite breakfast of hot homemade soup with a bit of chicken and wild grains in it.  Then I would eat a fresh orange.  I would then watch for the sunrise through my library windows.  Though my library faces the west side of the house I can see when the sun starts rising as the tips of the trees light up.  I would watch the changing light go from black to an amazing indigo blue, to lighter and lighter shades of azure, all the way to morning’s magic.  I would be in the presence of the Lord in the secret garden of my heart.  I would read my Bible, pray, sing, give praise to God and write my heart out in my hand written journal.  And, I would anticipate the poem God would allow my heart to unwrap.  My next venture would be to go into my craft room and contemplate on what I would like to create.  I have several projects awaiting my attention.  Who knows, I might even work on the photo albums of our family history for my sister Faith.  I have all the old family photos that she chose as part of her inheritance.  I am being entrusted to create an album(s) for her.  I am so looking forward to presenting it (them) to her when I finish the project. 

My next desire would probably be to eat again.  This time a lovely salad with lots of wonderful micro-nutrients to give me lots of energy and that “feel good” feeling.  There is nothing better than feeling good.  Dave would probably be up by then and I would enjoy sitting across the dining table from my very best, life-long friend, of over 43 years.  I get all squishy inside just thinking about how much I love him.  He makes every day perfect for me.  But…on to my fantasy of not having anything to do except that which I would absolutely want to do.  I would get up, leave the dishes, and the kitchen would be entirely clean when I came back to it later (just like on my “usual” days).

Following lunch I would lie down on the couch and watch a T.V. show I recently discovered called “STRANGE INHERITANCE”.  The episodes are always very interesting to me. After the half hour show, I might watch another episode, or choose to watch a “HALLMARK MOVIE”.  I would prop up my feet and just relax.  Then I would sit down at my computer, open up my blog site, and write on my blog page:

“SORRY GUYS, THERE WON’T BE A BLOG TODAY.  I HAVE TOO MUCH TO DO!”  I might also say, “God bless you”, and that would be about it.  There would be no gym time and no phone time.  I would take the wall phone off the hook, turn off my cell, and enjoy the silence.  I think I would then ask Dave if he would like me to win him in a card game.  We both play a competitive game of HAND AND FOOT.  Great card game.  The only thing is, he doesn’t “let” me win.  I have to really work for my wins.  But even if I lost the game, my day would still be perfect.

I would then read until dinner time.  Dinner would consist of Greek vanilla yogurt, fresh berries, walnuts, bran buds, and two prunes.  And then I would read again.  Finally, I would hang up the phone, and climb into freshly laundered purple sheets, wrapped in my purple fuzzy blanket.  Dave would tuck me in, turn out the light, and then go and eat a steak.  Each to his own.

WHAT WOULD YOUR PERFECT DAY BE LIKE?

The question that Sarah asked was: “WHAT WOULD YOU DO WITH A COMPLETELY FREE DAY?”

Well, Sarah, I think I have answered that question.  Thanks for giving me so much to think about.  Now I think I’ll just pick a day and make it happen.  THAT IS THE BEAUTY OF RETIREMENT!

P.S.  I might somehow get a tub of popcorn included in my day, smothered in coconut oil.

 

A DAY OF FREEDOM (OR THE PERFECT DAY)

By Kathleen Martens

March 1, 2016

 

 

A day of freedom

What does it entail?

How does one plan it

So it does not fail?

 

How is it possible

To only do

What your dream desires

To be true?

 

And for each one

What would it be,

To feel that your day

Is totally free?

 

For each is different

In parallax view.

From an unalike position

All would ensue.

 

What is right for one

May not be for another

Regardless if married,

Sister or brother.

 

So each to his own,

Entitled to dream

What is perfect for one

May cause another to scream.

 

So dream away,

Enjoying your reverie

Plan it your way

Very cleverly.

 

And enjoy each moment

Regardless what you choose

Your day of freedom?

Might just be to snooze.

 

Good night and God bless you!

 

 

 

 

Monday February 29 2016  YOUR THOUGHTS WILL SPEAK IN SILENT WORD

Today, being the extra day in Leap Year, always reminds me of the presidential race.  And I just realized something this very moment as I typed the above date.  I am already looking forward to four years from now when we will have a new leap year, and a new presidential election.  I know I promised to not get political, but I want it on the record of my blog journal, regardless who is elected, it will be a sad day for me. And regardless of who loses, the greatest loser of all will be our country, The United States of America.

So, on to reality! 

My mother died at age ninety one due to a strangulated hernia that caused gangrene to become sepsis in her entire body.  In other words she died of acute irreversible infection.  My mom also experienced progressive dementia.  When did it begin?  I don’t really think anyone knows with certainty.  Though I was only with her on intermittent visits to Arkansas, I began to notice it after she turned about eighty one or eighty two.  And because my visits had long months in between, I would notice a  progression of the dementia each time I was there.  Before turning eighty she was a bit forgetful, just as most of us become after sixty five or seventy.  She was still able to care for herself, her garden, hold interesting conversations, drive, attend church regularly, as well as devour book after book.  She moved slower, her walking sometimes painful, but every day she was up by the crack of dawn.  By sun up she was in her garden planting, hoeing, snipping, transplanting, and picking huge bouquets of flowers all through the spring, summer, and fall.   She always had a huge fresh flower arrangement in the middle of the table by breakfast time.  So many times it were so big that one could not see who was sitting across the table.  The first person who happened by to visit usually received the flowers as a gift to take home.  When someone came by later she would go out with the guest as they were leaving and pick them a fresh bunch of her beautiful flowers. 

Mama’s flowers were her gift to the world.  And then one day she went out to weed and upended all of her little sprouts, unbeknownst to her.  Over the course of time is was obvious that she no longer knew which seedling was a flower and which was a weed.  Her gardening days were over.  She lived with her sister who owed the property.  Her sister, being ten years younger, understood what was happening to my mother.  Both their mother and their mother’s mother exhibited the same symptoms at about the same time in their lives.  And after that, things changed for mama.  This happened in her early eighties.  By eighty five my mother no longer knew who I was.

When mama was seventy nine years old she announced to everyone that it would be her last year of driving.  She had given some thought to her progressing years, and realized she was no longer “a spring chicken” (her words).  Mama decided that she would extend her car insurance so she would be covered for three months past her eightieth birthday.  She would then have time to sell her car while it was still insured.  And true to her word, on her eightieth birthday, she gave up her driver’s license and never drove another day in her life.  She had her car checked out, and cleaned up, and then placed an ad in the newspaper.  It sold on the first day of the ad.  Her life was different after that.  She knew she would no longer be able to attend the church she had been so involved with for the past twenty five years.  Now she would be a passenger in her sister’s car and would attend the church her sister attended which was in the opposite direction from her place of worship.  That was hard for her, but she did it without complaint.  She decided ahead of time what her attitude would be.

Even prior to giving up her driver’s license my mom knew the tail end of her life was being lived.  She began sorting through all of her personal belongings.  Some she gave away, some she saved to give to her children and grandchildren.  My greatest sadness was when she went through all her personal correspondence, read every single piece of mail one last time, and then burned everything that she believed was too private for others to read.  She possessed very old letters and documents that she thought would cause sorrow to others, and she never wanted another eye to “set upon the pages”.  There was always so much heartache that she and her siblings shared through letters and she did not want any of the writer’s descendants to know what their parents and grandparents had said in the privacy of a personal letter to her.  Oh how I would have loved to have known those secrets!  I think that must be the “writer” in me.  There was no changing mama’s mind.  As I look back, I do believe that some of her dementia had already started and was in its early stages.  And then again, perhaps she was exhibiting much more wisdom than I will probable ever aspire to. 

Mama would become quarrelsome when someone confronted her with facts she no longer remembered.  Subtle changes at first, but unrecognizable to herself and most others around her.  But as the years rolled by it became more obvious to others that she could no longer make her own decisions and had to have someone with her at all times.  As subtle changes escalated, I do believe that even mama became aware of something happening within herself.  We found notes left behind in her dwelling that attest to the fact that she felt like she was “losing herself”.  The notes are heartbreaking to read. 

I said all of the above in order to arrive at the ultimate discourse of this blog.  This morning Dave and I were discussing our future and what we need to be aware of and what we need to be prepared for.  Yes, we are already a bit slower in both body and thoughts.  Yes, we both feel as if we still have some good years ahead of us.  Realistically, we both understand that what happened to my mom could happen to one, or both of us.  My mother never agreed that she was changing and needed help in making her decisions.  Finally when it was no longer feasible for her to manage her own decisions, someone else had to step in and make the decisions for her.  Was it easy?  No, neither to mama or my two sisters who took over her care.  But it was determined by all of her children that mama no longer had a voice in the matter.   In other words, mama no longer had a vote.

This morning as Dave and I discussed this scenario in our lives Dave said something profound and sobering. He said to me, that should one of us exhibit dementia, regardless of who it is, that person will not have a vote.  In other words it will not be the one who is exhibiting the symptoms that can vote on whether or not it is true.  That sentence alone gave me the topic for this blog.  What if it were me?  When you put yourself into the first person of that scene, all of a sudden it becomes a big issue.  How do we prepare for that possibility?  Can we prepare for that possibility?  I think there should be some thought and discussion that goes into that possibility.  We long ago decided that we want to be as prepared as we can be, regardless of how our ending years play out. 

I believe it is important to discuss these matters while we are still of sound mind and good judgment (assuming that time has not already passed).  We need to convey how we want our lives handled and to give permission to the one that must make the decisions as to when and how the one with dementia will be cared for.  We need to give our consent now, while we can still make sound judgement calls.  Dave needs to know how I will take care of his situation and he needs to give me input as to how it should be handled, even when he may no longer have sense enough to agree.  And I must do vice versa.  Realities and decisions such as this are not pleasant to think about, much less discuss.  But I really do believe pre-planning should be discussed and brought out into the open.  And if you are a single person, you should have someone you trust enough to have power of attorney over your health.  And your wishes should be discussed while your mind is healthy and you can make some of the decisions of where you might go or who would handle setting up personal care.  And make certain your legal affairs are in order with trusted trustees and a trusted and competent attorney who is YOUNGER THAN YOURSELF.

I made up my mind to enter these years with a good attitude, with a love for life, and a zest for living.  I also want to enter into them without clutter in my home.  My mother was wise.  She relived her past through her letters and she gave relics of her past to those she loved.  She enjoyed the two passions of her life, both God and gardening, with constant attention to both, as long as it was possible.  She was most content if she were employed in doing something constructive.  As crippled as her hands were, she would sit in the kitchen and peel peaches by the hour during canning season.  As feeble as she was she would be right in the middle of harvest, culling bushels of black eyed peas for winter dinners.  She would scrape corn off the cob until she no longer had the strength to do it.  And she never complained.  Again, she chose her attitude.

And eventually, the life she knew and loved, was over.  And she no longer had a vote.

I wonder how long I will have a vote?

Be ready people.  Think about these things.  Don’t let life happen around you, instead, become involved with what is happening.  Be real and true to yourself.  Give as much of your heart as possible to others, and accept the graciousness and heart of those who love you.  And most of all, make your decisions now, while you still have the ability to do so.  Make your vote count while you still have a voice.

 

AND THE PLEASURES OF LIFE…

By Kathleen Martens

February 29, 2016

 

Life is too short to waste an hour.

Boost yourself, hang on to your power.

Someday your voice may not be heard

Your thoughts will speak in silent word.

 

Do what you can to stay healthy and strong,

Tuck in your heart a happy song

Live life to the fullest, each and every day,

And speak the words, you yearn to say.

 

Life has a way of ending too soon,

Allow in your heart a lovely tune.

It takes so little to find joy and peace,

That pleasures of life seem to increase.

 

Good night and God bless you.