Jul 19, 2013 |
TGIF
There was no doubt that this had to be another TGIF post. Because as I write this, I am so very thankful.
I’ve been blessed to be able to share my Penny Parable with more people than I imagined. I continue to find pennies every day, and I’m so thankful when I do. Some are found at home, some in my car. Some are tiny savings in my checkbook. At the end of the week, 7 cents adds up. And since posting the Parable, I’ve been finding far more than just 7 a week. It makes it worth it: that positive outlook, the hope that even the smallest thing can bring magic and miracles to a day.
Penny, Penny
As I’m teaching myself with my yard work, there has to be a starting point. A beginning. And eventually, little things add up to big things. Or, as my friend Danny likes to quote from Bruce Springsteen, “From small things, Mama, big things one day come.”
My Penny Jar
I have long-range goals and short-term projects. But I’m understanding that nothing gets done until the first step is stepped.
Over a year ago, one of my closest friends was searching for a new job. He’d heard of a few colleagues who were receiving interview after interview after interview… but he wasn’t. He was frustrated. We prayed for him and his family. Dot and I prayed for direction, answers, openings. And God heard us. He said, “Why does he want so many interviews? He only needs one.” Of course, God was right. And shortly thereafter, that one right interview came.
I have many writing projects in the works. I always will. As a writer, I can’t write just one story without formulating more. I’ve never heard of any writer who can. But I have a schedule now, a plan. Each day I focus on one writing task. Mondays I work on my assignments for the Institute of Children’s Literature. On Thursdays, it’s all about The Grenalia Chronicles with Megan. Sundays are when I catch up on my Trekaroo reviews. See? Many projects. But each day, one focus.
Terrace of the Cafe at Night
The most complex recipe begins with one ingredient. All books start with one word. When one day is too long, clocks tick one second at a time. The sun rises one inch at a time.
First Morning
Movies are filmed one frame at a time.
And blessings overflow… one at a time.
This weekend we get to see family we don’t see regularly. My Big Brother and his family are coming to visit. How appropriate that he’s the first-born. I can’t wait to spend time with them all!
Today, I’m thankful for one more second with family. One more penny in my wallet. One more word to write, hug to share, smile to give, moment to just breathe.
One more blessing to count.
Today, I’m thankful. One more time.
And Frankly, My Dear… that’s all she wrote!
Jul 15, 2013 |
It’s the beginning of the summer season. We’re having a strange-ish summer here in the High Desert. Most days are either filled with a high haze that obliterates the blue sky, or a feeling of humidity we don’t often experience. There have been moments of clear heat, those days that have melted us into the submission that comes with a tall glass of ice water and no more exercise than button-pushing on the remote control.
And in between, in the days that allow for outside movement and recreation… those days are filled with the day job and the errands and the catch-up events like dollar movies and friends and writing clubs and grocery shopping and baking…
What this summer is boiling down to is my List. I have a list of so many things to do in my front yard (backyard, too, but that’s a separate list!). Don’t get me wrong, my yard is turning out nicely with the bits and pieces we’ve been able to accomplish. But there’s so much more I want. Looking at the Big Picture, I easily become overwhelmed.
I’m tired of living on a dirt lot with shrub stumps and broken water lines. I’m upset that the homes around me have color and tidy yards while I have lumpy dirt and a stump that won’t die.
Overgrowth
Corner View
Stumpy
And so, in what will soon be detailed further in a Faith-based Blog post, I was nudged by God to “go back to the beginning”. He reminded me of how I came to own this house I’ve christened Bedford Manor. He brought back those moments of joy and satisfaction when it started to all come together. He inspired me again with the promise of things to come, and the security and beauty of what’s already here.
First Morning
I have beautiful plans to turn my Great Outdoor into a lovely Italian-themed desert landscape. I’ve done my research (thank you, Pinterest!). On my nearly non-existent budget, I’ll be dreaming more than doing at least for a while.
But there are two lessons here, maybe three.
First, I can’t do it all. But I can do one thing at a time. I can’t do it all at one time, and I can’t do everything I want. I can’t build a Koi pond in the same area I want to build a Pagoda or lay a container garden. I have to choose what it is I really want, and how I want it. While I’m deciding the Wants, I need to take care of the Needs. The tree stump that we tried to cut last year keeps growing back. The dying roots are unsettling the ground. So I can’t do it all. I can’t snap my fingers and have my yard insta-scaped. But I can cut back the growing stems. And I can drill the stump and keep it from growing back. Making my yard the garden spot I know it will be begins with one Project. And that one Project begins with one Step.
Second, I have Faith in my yard. I know what it will be like when it’s finished, but I don’t know how to get from now to then. I’m (mostly) okay with that. I have little ideas that will collect and grow and join together and soon my little ideas will be big ideas. It’s okay if I don’t see the Big Picture as a reality right now. Because I can still work on the design. I can plan. And plot. And save. And work. And try. And do whatever little beginnings I can do. God has given me this beautiful house that we’ve turned into a home. He answered my specific, bold, detailed prayer when house hunting. How could I not have faith that He will also answer my specific, bold, detailed prayer for the landscaping? I have to admit… I’ve forgotten to ask Him. I look around and sigh and struggle through the weeds and the dead stumps and the uneven ground and get discouraged. Got discouraged. Not any more! Because obviously this yard came with this home that is such an obvious blessing from God. And I believe He will help me turn it into a lovely yard, not just a dirt lot.
The third lesson is the First. That is, the most important. Stop, Look, and Listen. Stop being in such a tizzy over what needs to be done. Look and see what’s already been accomplished. Listen to that creative muse inside leading me to grand ideas. Go back to the Beginning.
I have simple, inexpensive ideas for my yard. The more research I do, the more I realize how do-able it is. I need to finish off the stump and cut down another tree. Pull out the dead lilac shrubs. Level the lot a bit more. Then comes the fun part. Pallets for a walkway and container garden. Rockscaping throughout the yard to cut down on dirt and dust and heat. A simple Pagoda that also supports a bench swing and grapevines. Pomegranate trees to add color and attract birds. Sugar Maples to splash their brilliance in the fall. A hedge of Boxwood along the front fence, and Oleander on the side. A wood deck under the side trees. A new coat of paint on the trim.
And that’s only half my list. But I’m no longer looking at the whole list. I’m looking at just the first item. The one I can take care of. The one I can start with.
One step at a time. One project at a time. One section at a time. And eventually, the little things will join together and I’ll have One complete yard.
And Frankly, My Dear… that’s all she wrote!
Jun 25, 2013 |
The Penny Parable
Anyone who knows me knows I have an affinity for pennies. As a child, finding one made the world amazing. Lucky. Blessed. Finding a penny was like opening a door to adventure. I would look around for the unexpected second, and very rare third penny laying about. Finding just one made any kind of day miraculous.
I’ve kept that magic with me. To this day, I still revel in the joy of those small and simple copper coins, but for other, deeper reasons.
As a person who continues to struggle with making ends meet on a regular basis, I take to heart the phrase “counting my pennies”. I make conscious decisions on where my resources go. When any situation arises that seems overwhelming, I learned a long time ago that when I can’t, God can.
I admittedly lose bits of my faith at times. I wonder how I can make my way in this world when it seems so impossible to accomplish the tasks set before me. How will I find enough hours in the day to finish the chores, write the stories, have quality time with Dot? How can I pay the bills when my monthly income is staggeringly less than what I need? How do I stop worrying and just believe? How do I continue trusting in Him? How?
In my darkest moments, in those times of despair and confusion whatever the cause or reason, He unfailingly puts a penny in my path. And I, unfailingly, feel refreshed.
IN GOD WE TRUST.
Most of us still make the effort to pick up that stray coin when we see it. Why?
The penny is the beginning of American currency. It is one cent. It’s no longer useful except to pay taxes and collect in jars. Yet we still reach for it, still hold onto it, still feel like Something Good can come of it. Because One is the beginning of all things.
For me, the penny is a symbol of hope and a future; it’s the beginning of a foundation. It says right there, embossed without the possibility of being erased, “In God We Trust”.
And He cares enough to bring that to my attention. Over and over and over again.
As in the Parable of the Talents [Matthew 25:14-30], I believe God will continue to bless us with bigger blessings as we strive to be faithful with the Little Things he entrusts to us. After all, how can we expect Him to shower us with those once-in-a-lifetime moments when we can’t recognize Him in our daily lives?
Many people are so consumed with the Big Miracles they neglect the Everyday Miracles all around us. Too often I find myself wishing for the winning lottery ticket instead of taking stock of the wealth around me: Dot and I have a roof over our heads, reliable transportation, food to eat. Our family and friends are always blessing us with their company and conversations. We have so much to fill our lives.
It’s when I take stock of these things that I realize how God is already taking care of us.
It’s with faith the size of a mustard seed that mountains are moved [Matthew 17:20]. This doesn’t always mean a sudden shift in the cosmos, or a blatant turn-around of a situation. Having faith takes endurance. It’s a task of longevity.
Let’s face it… if faith were Shake-and-Bake Instant, we wouldn’t have struggles, would we? We could just believe and make it happen.
Unfortunately, the Real World doesn’t work that way. Or maybe it’s fortunate. Without perseverance, we wouldn’t learn hope. And hope can be the biggest miracle of all. Hope leads to possibilities. Hope says, “Yes!” when the world says, “What?!” Hope says, “Let’s try!” and “Try again!” Even when we’d rather give up.
HOPE IS WHAT KEEPS US GOING.
Every foundation begins with one. One plan. One base. One step. And then another.
The penny is not insignificant. It’s a start. Pennies are everywhere.
When I see a single solitary penny in my path, I pick it up. Because it’s a message from God that tells me I’m loved enough to have His attentions. The penny tells me He still cares about me, even when I feel invisible or worthless. The penny tells me, I have a foundation to build upon. And little by little, I’ll make my mark.
And just like that single solitary penny, I am valuable. And I may be only one person. But I can make a difference.
Little by little.
One penny can’t do much. But soon enough, they add up. Enough pennies can buy a loaf of bread. And to one person, one loaf of bread can change the world.
Hyacinth for the Soul.
That one penny reminds me that God is always nearer than I think. He is always taking care of the tiniest details, so I don’t have to. He’s my foundation.
It starts with One. And grows.
And Frankly, My Dear… that’s all she wrote!
You may also enjoy reading:
More or less: 29 Words
Poverty: My Story
“Be Not Afraid”. Yes, I’m talking to YOU.
What I Learned on Women’s Retreat [The Big Whammy!]
Praying for a Miracle I’ve Already Received
EXODUS: Keep On Keepin’ On
May 9, 2013 |
There’s a plethora of news articles discussing poverty as it relates to society as a whole. There are Government studies, prejudices, and surveys. There are misconceptions, stereotypes, classes to educate those in the throes, assistance programs that help (or don’t), and people fighting every day to overcome the odds.
Let me be very clear at this point: I am not a statistic.
My Social Media brand states quite simply, “I’m a Christian. Writer. Mom. Single. Daughter. Friend. Worker. Chef. Believer.” I’m also a baseball nut, coffee drinker, Disney lover, cat owner. I’m sympathetic, empathetic and at times extremely temperamental. At no point have I ever been a statistic.
I am a person. My home is where I live and where I raise a family. We are not charts on a piece of paper or a spread-sheet column.
The very first thing you should understand about me is that I am blessed. I believe in God, I have felt His hand upon my daily moments and I know without Him I would be lost. I am poor by the world’s standards, but definitely not by His.
Trying to live up to the world’s idea of how my life should be is utterly exhausting. Working long hours while running a household can be overwhelming. And so rewarding.
I am deeply bothered by the stigma that my life brings to me and my daughter. I’m often overwhelmed at the inconsideration pushed upon us for lack of funds. I’ve prayed and thought long and hard about writing this post. There are some things that private. And then there are times when my voice may be the only voice someone hears. For others who can’t speak for themselves.
Poverty is not One Size Fits All or even Most. Poverty is deeply personal, intimate, and unique to each person. Not each family. Each. Person.
This is my story.
This is by no means a complaint against the world. Nor is it a cry for help. It’s not meant to take away any other person’s individuality or be thrown to the masses. This is simply My Story. Or at least the parts of it I can share.
I can’t say I was born into poverty. I think maybe I was, myself and my brothers. But we didn’t know different. Dad worked hard for income, Mom worked hard at keeping a home. At some point in my youth, both worked. We all came together for dinner around the table. We went to school, did our homework and worked our chores. We played games. We talked. We went to Church. We were a family. When my brothers were each old enough, they found part-time jobs to supplement their own pocket cash. I babysat the kids across the street. We didn’t know what poverty was.
We had a clean house. Home cooked meals. We didn’t know we were poor. We knew we didn’t always have as much as the kids down the block. But we always had more than we needed. And we were okay with that.
When I was 13, my dad passed away. Mom chose to move us closer to her sister, also a widow. Thus we transplanted from Michigan to California. My mom has always been an extremely strong, hard worker. If we were in Laura Ingalls’ days, she’d be known as a Pioneer Woman. When there’s a problem, she finds a solution. Even though the word “No” is often a part of our vocabulary, the word “Can’t” rarely is. Her home is immaculate. Her yard is landscaped. She’s always found a way to take care of what needs taking care of. I am very proud of my mom, and just as proud that my daughter inherited that same “Can-Do” spirit. We are not poor people. We are just people in poor circumstances.
We live in the largest county in America. Currently, our unemployment rate averages between 12 and 14%. That means one in seven people who used to work or can work, is not working. That doesn’t take into consideration the dependents that person is responsible for: a spouse, child, or other dependent. I don’t like the game people play with these numbers.
I’m blessed to have a job. I work 35 hours a week. It’s not much, but it’s honest work. It feels good to have a job I can go to. A place where I can contribute back to society and be a part of the outside world. I enjoy paying bills. I do! I like the feeling of writing out checks and buying my own groceries and putting gas in the car. I don’t like knowing that the payments I make aren’t always enough. I don’t like the calls I get each day asking me for money I don’t have.
But I like that each week, the calls are fewer. I like that each payday, I can afford to put just a little more money toward paying off the smallest debt. And maybe next payday, a little more. It’s not easy and there are often times when I’m unable to do anything more than the minimum payments… and sometimes not even that. It’s embarrassing. And that’s a stigma I face a lot. The stigma that being in poverty carries an attitude of apathy.
I want to be self-sufficient. I’m not there yet. I don’t know that I ever will be. But I’m learning a lot on this journey. I’m learning every day. How to cook differently. How to juggle a budget where the outgo always exceeds the income. How to get by for less than what society tells me I need. And how to ask for help when I really need it.
I’m blessed with a wonderful support system. I have family and friends and church and community. I’m not alone. I have people. My people. People who come alongside me to lighten the load however they can. A grandpa who constantly teaches Dot maintenance and farming. My mom who shares cooking secrets. My boss consistently trains me to be better at my job, and gives me opportunities to grow and not be just the stagnant front-desk person. I have people who see me through my struggles. And, yes. I have struggles. Who doesn’t? But I don’t struggle with life. There are worse things than not paying off debt in a timely manner.
For my family, Poverty is a matter of perspective.
My yard is still 90% dirt. That’s not because we’re poor. That’s because I live in the desert. That’s because I don’t know gardening. But I’m learning. Some day, my yard will be completely landscaped. For now, we’re taking it one square foot at a time.
I still treat Dot to the occasional pizza or Starbucks. We need that treat once in a while. When I was growing up, Mom had this saying on a bookmark:
“If, of thy mortal goods, thou art bereft,
And from thy slender store two loaves
alone to thee are left,
Sell one & from the dole,
Buy Hyacinths to feed the soul”
– Muslihuddin Sadi,
13th Century Persian Poet
I remember asking her what that meant. She smiled as she told me, it’s another way of saying “Man cannot live by bread alone.” There must be more to life than physical needs. We must also take care of our spirit, our soul, our emotions.
Imagine my delight when in the first Spring of my somewhat fixer-upper home I discovered Hyacinth growing in my front yard.
Grape Hyacinth
We all need a time of refreshment. Being in poor circumstances no longer allows us the luxury of Disney passes or even a weekend getaway. My mom has another great wall hanging in her kitchen. It reads
Do What You Can
Where You Are
With What You Have.
And that’s why I still try to make time for Family Game Nights. Why we scrimp and save for our Girl Dates to Starbucks or McDonald’s. That’s why a 40-minute drive to Casey’s Cupcakes and the Mission Inn every few months isn’t indulgent ~ it’s necessary!
Because I refuse to let my daughter think she lives in poverty. Because she doesn’t. Because poverty is a temporary disposition that I refuse to settle into comfortably, and I will fight tooth and nail to make sure she doesn’t know what she’s missing.
I believe this poverty is temporary. I refuse to be a societal statistic.
And Frankly, My Dear… that’s all she wrote!
You may also enjoy reading:
There’s Hope for Bedford Manor
“Be Not Afraid”. Yes, I’m talking to YOU.
How To Eat For Free And Have Fun Doing It (Or, How Printing Coupons Gave Me a Really Great Weekend!)
WinCo Wins: Lunch for a Dollar!
Dear God, I Owe You An Apology (Quit Helping Me!)
Winco Wins
Apr 15, 2013 |
THUNK.
And then, again.
THUNK.
That’s what my friend Lisa says these types of writings do for her. When God uses me to write His message on her heart. She gets thunked.
As you’ve undoubtedly noticed from my incredible lack of writing lately, there’s not been a lot of thunking going on. Sorry, Lisa.
I need a respite. A retreat. I need to find a way to afford a weekend getaway to disconnect from the world and reconnect with my daughter, my writing, and my God. I need nature. To spend time in His world and renew my view. I need refreshing.
I’m tired. I’m tired all the time lately. The Cookbook Project was so fulfilling, so successful. So exhausting. Through the end stages of ordering product and processing orders, I fell under a bout of anemia. It doesn’t happen often. But if I don’t take care of myself, it can affect me.
I was already tired. So I didn’t cook too much in the last month. We ate leftovers and easy fixings: toast, eggs, oatmeal. It’s not like a homecooked meal. But I tried. Sometimes. And sometimes I didn’t. Which is why my iron levels dropped. I didn’t make the connection until one morning the dark circles under my eyes were darker. And not going away. And neither was my fatigue.
And then I remembered. I’m borderline anemic and I hadn’t eaten meat for much longer than a week. Neither had I taken vitamins.
My eczema has flared up as well. Rough, dry, itchy patches on my legs and hands. Yeah. Real attractive, right? The problem with eczema is the more it flares up, the more I rub/scratch, the more it flares up. Ugh. Talk about your Catch-22. My eczema is a result of cold, dry weather, weather changes, dietary changes, and stress. Hmm. Any of those happen lately? Let me think… I’ll take (e) for All of The Above, Alex.
Just about ten days ago I made a wonderful discovery. Something I’d not known before. Something which makes people who hate the internet, appreciate this information highway just a little. Anemia and eczema are connected.
Awesome.
I mean it. What a sigh of relief to know I don’t have a buzzillion things wrong with me; but rather one thing that is affecting me in a buzzillion ways. If I can get the anemia under control, the eczema will follow.
I’m still tired. Greatly overwhelmed. But I’m hopeful. I don’t expect my body to rebound after one red-meat meal. It will take a little time. Hope is a beautiful thing: Hope, in itself, offers promise and peace.
The anemia isn’t the only cause of my eczema. I need to release my worries and concerns. I need my body to let go of the stress it’s holding on to. That’s so much easier said than done. Am I right?
Let’s have a show of hands: Who has worries? Who has concerns? I thought so.
Worries and concerns aren’t unique. Troubles are a natural part of life. But doesn’t it seem that there are more worries and concerns lately? Isn’t the world around you more troubled than it used to be? Are you losing sleep, too? The deep-breathing thing doesn’t always help, does it? Yeah. Me either.
There’s a lot I’m not doing because I’m so tired. I’ve been unable to tend to my yardwork. I haven’t visited friends as often. And I’m not writing. Not really. I haven’t touched the novel for over two months. I haven’t even read my Bible.
My fatigue makes me feel like a failure. And causes me concern. These projects that aren’t getting done: how detrimental are these delays?
Today was it. That moment when I finally spoke aloud the words I knew were welling up inside of me. “I don’t have energy to be happy right now. I need replenishment.” Thankfully, blessedly, God heard me.
Dot nudged me to go to Church with her. I wanted to just stay in bed. But she wasn’t having any of that. I knew there would be a reason for me to go, so I went. We unexpectedly met some of my Very Favorite People there, who invited us to lunch at IHOP after.
Hey. Free food. I don’t have to cook. And I get to enjoy their company? Yeah. I’ll bite that apple. [Yes, my chocolate-chocolate chip pancakes were delicious. Thank you asking, Kenny.] Two hours later we finally disbanded. And I felt fed. Loved. Comforted. And a bit replenished.
I’ve been waiting for a Big Miracle, when the little ones are right in front of me. I can’t conquer the world. But I can conquer one task. At least, I can start.
So tonight, rather than watch TV, I turned it off and decided to pick up my Bible. I subscribe to one of those little daily prayer magazines. I haven’t looked at it in months. I figured it would be a good way to edge back into the Nightly Prayer Routine. My focus is easily distracted these days, so I can use all the guidance I can get.
After saying goodnight to Dot, I went to my room where the first distraction came about. My adorable cats were cuddled up, waiting for me. I also wanted to post an Instagram photo of my new fox necklace. That’s a separate story; but this part is important: as I was looking at the photos from those I follow, one lovely young lady posted this:
“So do not fear, for I am with you;
do not be afraid or dismayed,
for I am your God.
I will strengthen you and help you;
I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.”
She posted it as a reminder to herself that He is always here. But I think God had her post it so she could THUNK me with it.
In this moment, before I started my Bible reading and prayer time, God is already soothing my soul. I am so very afraid of how terrible our finances are. I am so very worried about getting through each day. I don’t know what to do or where to turn.
But God does. And He chose someone else’s troubles to tell me.
And it doesn’t stop there. After reading that, and feeling a slight rejoicing well up inside me, I opened my little magazine. Today’s verse of the day is Isaiah 35:3-10. Isaiah is a book filled with stories of Strength and Endurance. Just look at the first word in these first two verses:
“Strengthen the feeble hands,
steady the knees that give way;
say to those with fearful hearts,
‘Be strong, do not fear;
your God will come,
he will come with vengeance;
with divine retribution
he will come to save you.'”
I guess now I should tell you that before I read, I wrote. My journal is full of letters to God. Pouring my heart out, praising Him in thanks, offering up prayers for others. As you can imagine, tonight’s entry was full of phrases like “Rescue me” and “Fight for me” and “Why is this so hard?” and “What do I do?” I knew He would hear me. Am I so tired that I’m not hearing the answer?
And then I read Isaiah.
That alone made me giggle a little.
You see, many years ago, in choir, I was known as the Teddy Bear Rescue Mission. I’ve always collected teddy bears. Still do, when I get the chance. About ten years ago, I was going through a very rough time and constantly seeking God’s presence. I asked Him to specifically show Himself to me in ways that were meant only for me. Over several months, He blessed me. With bears. Abandoned teddy bears I found on the side of the road, took home and cleaned up. There’s Roadie, Faith, and especially Isaiah. Isaiah was a brand new Ty Beanie Baby bear that happened to be in the middle of the road just as I drove up and stopped for a signal. I only had to open my door, reach down and pick him up. To this day, that bear is a symbol of God’s promise to care for me personally, individually, and intimately. He knows me and knows not only what I need for my body, but for my mind, emotions, and soul. He continues to refresh and replenish me. Even if the world doesn’t see it. Even if the bills still don’t get paid. Even if my anemia and eczema doesn’t go away.
Bears are awesome creatures. They are big. Strong. Yet cuddly. Furious and ferocious. And I have always loved them. And foxes remind me of Disney’s Robin Hood. They are beautiful, quick, quiet. Each of these wildlife animals command respect and admiration and awe. They don’t worry. They live the lives they are designed to live. You don’t see a bear trying to be a zebra, or a fox imitating a bird. They don’t worry about tomorrow.
There are approximately 365 mentions in the Bible to “not fear”. The variations are “Don’t be afraid,” “Do not fear,” and “fear not.” 365. That’s one for every day of the year. I’d say if God says it that much, He must have known we’d need the reminders.
I didn’t have to get away to connect with nature. I didn’t need a retreat to feel restored. And I don’t have to worry about my bills and budget.
I needed only to open my eyes. And be the best Molly Jo I know how. The rest will take care of itself. Somehow.
Faith Like a Fox
And Frankly, My Dear… that’s all she wrote.
You may also enjoy reading:
The Bear Rug ~ A Heritage Story
A Lesson to Trust
Give Us This Day…
What I Learned on Women’s Retreat [The Big Whammy!]
Destination Mission Inn
