Posts Categorized: Patience

Yarn Yarns

| Faithfulness, Kindness, Patience

 

 

The living room, when the yarn first arrived.

The room where I emptied out *all* the large bags and worked to organize everything. It felt as though any nice yarn shop could have gone into business with the inventory that I had in my guest room.

I’ve mentioned before, a couple of times or so, the twenty large bags of my Mother-in-law’s yarn that David brought home after his sisters had cleaned out and organized the house after her death. There were 40 bags, but he couldn’t get them all in the car. He had packed the trunk and the car, up to the lower edges of the windows. At our house, they filled the living room.

Eventually, I moved it all into the guest room. I had consolidated all the yarns, finding the same colors and types of yarn and putting them into zip-locking bags, to make it easier for the folks in my knitting/crochet group to locate yarns they were interested in and being able to determine if there was enough for whatever project they were hoping to complete. They meet twice a month, and each time, I took three, four, or five bags

In October, I mentioned the yarn again, saying this: “Tuesday, I took three more big bags of very nice yarn (mostly cotton and wool, this time) to the Knitting and Crocheting group, thanks to David’s mom’s yarn-buying habit. I think one more trip might get them all into the hands of those crafty ladies.” Hah. Here it is, looking January in the face, and I still have yarn.

 

When Jeremy and Sarah came for Thanksgiving (and were scheduled to stay in the guest room), I moved everything to the only spare place I had: my car. Large, black bags of wools and wool blends, and large white bags of man-made materials (acrylics, nylons, that sort of thing) were stuffed into the trunk, filling it up completely, front to back, side to side. Using the two colors of bags helped the yarn workers know which bag they should be searching, to find the kinds of yarn they were interested in. Cottons went into the back seat. I felt like a mobile yarn store. The second Tuesday and the fourth Thursday of each month, I opened up the trunk, pulled out three or fours bags and toted them into our meeting spaces.

Many members of the group knit and/or crochet furiously, daily, to create items for helping agencies around town. Hats for the homeless in our area, shawls and lap-sized afghans for people in nursing homes and rehab facilities, warm “chemo” hats, for cancer patients going through chemotherapy, scarves for participants and families involved in Special Olympics, tiny hats for newborns in local hospitals, hats for young children who attend the therapeutic nursery in our town, and other things I don’t even know about.

People also choose yarns for gifts for family members, and for items they will create for themselves. Because the yarns my mother-in-law purchased are of better quality that those that might be available at Wal-Mart, the yarn-workers are able to make nicer items for themselves and their families. Several people choose skeins of 100% wool because they are learning felting techniques (which require wool), and wool is more costly than acrylic yarn.

There’s a senior adult lady who lives on a meager, fixed income. She makes things that she sells at a monthly craft fair, to earn a little extra. For a while, she’ll be able to keep all the money she gets, because she hasn’t had to buy yarn. And, some things will sell for a little higher price, because the yarn is a better quality than she can afford to buy.

One young member’s spouse is out of work. She has a part-time job, but it’s not enough. She’s furiously making items to sell at a regular craft fair in a nearby town. Free yarn for her work! It’s making a difference.

If, at the end of a yarn group meeting, there is any yarn left, the group’s leader will take it to a woman who is home-bound, on chemotherapy. She knits the yarn into items for a local abuse shelter. She makes toys, hats, blankets, and anything else the shelter needs.

At church, we put out devotional books a few times during the year. Different people are asked to contribute pieces, and they are printed up for us to have, and they are also posted online each day during the season, too. A couple of weeks before Christmas, I read one by a church member that I don’t know. At the end of each devotional piece, the writers are asked to write a one-or-two sentence biographical blurb. This writer said that her hobbies were “voracious reading and crochet.” CROCHET!!  After that week’s worship service, I asked a couple of people if they knew her. Nope. Then, as I was about to leave, one of those folks came and said, “That lady over there in the green flowered shirt. That’s her.” “Did you just go around, asking people if they knew who she was?” I asked him. “Yes,” he said, as though it was the most sensible way to solve the problem, which, of course, it was. I gave up too soon.

I went over and she said, “Gayle! I heard you were looking for me.” I said, yes, that I had read her devotional, and I saw she liked to crochet. She said, yes, and I said, “I have yarn.” I explained the whole mother-in-law thing, and she said she’d love to come over and look at it, and I said, “Oh, no. It’s in my car.” She looked skeptical, as though Who would drive around with very much yarn in their car. I said, “My trunk is full of wool and acrylics and the back seat is full of cotton.” We went straight out to the parking lot to the car.

She was delighted. As she burrowed through it all, she turned to a friend who was with me (we were on our way to my house to make Christmas cookies). She said to my friend, “Do you do needlework? Don’t you want some of this?” “Oh,” said my friend. “I was the first one who got to go through it. I took home four tote bags full of yarn.”

I talked to my sister last week. Thursday, I sent off two large envelopes of yarn to Seattle. She’s not going to knit it, but my brother-in-law is. And my niece.

 

And now, there are two bagsfull still in the trunk, and two handle bags full of the cotton yarn, transferred from the back seat. There’s also a box of yarns that have been partially used and have no label, so knitters might struggle to know the exact size and weight of the yarn, the fiber content, and the care instructions. But they might be great for practicing new stitches, designs, and ideas.

 

 

Another trip or two to knitting/crochet group, and I should be yarn-free. I did keep a couple of things for myself, but, really, I already had some yarn.

 

 

 

She keeps herself busy making wool and linen cloth.

Proverbs 31:13 (Good News Translation)

   

and with her own hands she gladly makes clothes.

Proverbs 31:13 (Contemporary English Version)

 

She seeks wool and flax, and works with willing hands.

Proverbs 31:13 (New Revised Standard Version)

 

She searches out continually to possess that which is pure and righteous.
    She delights in the work of her hands

Proverbs 31:13 (The Passion Translation)

  

She shops around for the best yarns and cottons, and enjoys knitting and sewing.

Proverbs 31:13 (The Message)

I usually compare different translations, which have the same content, but I like to see what the different word choices are as I choose. I have to admit, I do like The Message’s translation best.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

It’s Beginning to Look a Lot Like I Need to Get Busy

| Joy, Patience, Peace

Does anyone ever feel like they’re completely ready for the birthday, the graduation, the big event, the whatever’s going on? It just always seems like there’s one more thing I need to do. Or, worse, one more thing that I’d forgotten I should do. It seems like I’m ready, but I suspect that there will be that Oh, No! moment when I remember that I’m NOT ready. I made cookies with a friend last weekend, and mine are in the freezer. I’ve mailed off all but one of the packages that needs to go. I’ve worked on Christmas cards (don’t you like to get them, surprise-like, a few days after Christmas?). The stockings are crammed full. I’ve put together most of the parts of our Christmas lasagna. The room where Kevin and April stay when they are here is getting close to being “guest-ready.” I might need to go to the grocery store tomorrow, and maybe the next day and the next.

Meanwhile, last weekend I went to Fort Worth for April’s graduation ceremony on Friday. Then, on Saturday, I went off to one of my favorite places to shop, the amazing grocery store Central Market. The main entrance opens onto the fresh foods area. It’s enormous. I got some apples. It was pretty chilly in that part. I walked around the corner where the meat market is, but it was really cold in there, so I turned around.

There are many vegetarian shoppers at the store, and they complained at some point about having to walk through the meat department (which includes live lobsters) to reach the other parts of the store. So, a while back, they cut an additional doorway from the fresh food section into the personal care area. I did go that way, and it’s where I get the soap I like. But, by then, I was pretty chilled.

They use the best bags there. I always try to remember to take my own reusable bags; I sometimes forget. But, since the bags are these nice, brown paper, handled bags, I save them and use them for all sorts of things. Here are my lovely apples, Snap Dragon, and Autumn Glory and Green Dragon.

 

At home, I’ve tried to sprout “micro-greens,” like I did for Thanksgiving a few years ago. I’m not having much success this time. The micro-greens aren’t sprouting particularly well, and they are all leggy. I don’t really think the mushroom spores were included in the seed packet. I guess they just wafted in from somewhere. I pulled these out, but another, tiny one has come up. Maybe our Christmas dinner salad will be micro-green-free.

 

 

 

Shout praises to the Lord! Praise God in his temple. Praise him in heaven, his mighty fortress.

Praise our God! His deeds are wonderful, too marvelous to describe.

Praise God with trumpets and all kinds of harps.

Praise him with tambourines and dancing, with stringed instruments and woodwinds.

Praise God with cymbals, with clashing cymbals.

Let every living creature praise the Lord. Shout praises to the Lord!

Psalm 150 (Contemporary English Version)

 

 

How lovely that, just when we need to feel thankful to God for Jesus, here is this very nice Psalm that we can use.

I Prefer the Term “Efficient”

| Joy, Patience

A less kind person might say that I’m rather lazy. I must admit that I’m always searching for the way that’s less trouble, no-so-involved, easier, etc. Efficient.

Years ago, in our other house, I created a large swag made of pine and holly (the artificial kind), and hung it across the top of the large doorway between our living and dining rooms. I added a string of small, white Christmas lights. Over the years, I purchased clear, plastic ornaments meant to be attached to those lights. It’s lovely. One year, I found an apparatus designed to be plugged in to an outlet, and the other end was a metal snowflake. You touched the snowflake to turn those little lights on, and you touched it again to turn the lights off. It was handy, even though the plug, in that house, was easy to reach.

Now, in the house where we currently live, the swag goes around the large windows at the front of the house. The Christmas tree sits in front of that window. The only plug on that wall is right behind the tree, and therefore difficult to reach. The you-only-have-to-touch-it snowflake is extra handy now, and I touch it every morning to turn on the lights. Easy-peasy. And, there’s a step-on button at the bottom of the Christmas tree that turns on those lights. Efficient.

There are also two candle lights in the windows. We are careful, as we prepare to decorate each year, to plug those in at exactly six o-clock, p.m. They come on, the stay lit for 6 hours, then they go off. And, for the rest of the season, that’s the routine for them. On at six. Off at midnight. Efficient.

For all the years we lived in the other house, we never did any outdoor decorating. When we moved, I began to consider it. The next-door neighbors particularly loved Halloween. They also put up stuff for Christmas. Some others did, too. Not tons and tons of lights and stuff, but enough to make the street look merry in the evenings. I wanted to do some decorating, but, remember, I’m, um, efficient. I didn’t want strings of lights that had to be put up on the roof, unplugged and replugged each evening and morning, and then removed again in January. We don’t have space for those lit metal figures that would have to be stored for eleven months of the year. And I just didn’t want to try to tackle those large, inflatable figures. I found the answer at Target. Solar lights. Seemed perfect for the person who is, um, efficient.

I bought some.

They have these little solar collectors, which must get lots of sunlight during the day. Then, the lights come on at dark, and shine for several hours. They lose their power at some point in the night. Then, you hope, they gather up enough sun for the next night. One set of our lights are hung on a pine swag across the wrought iron rail along the porch. They are working fine. The lights (here on the right-hand side) are on a mesh sort of arrangement, and they have not worked at all this year. I know it’s not a lack of sunlight, as the two solar collectors are right next to each other, as you can see (over there on the left-hand-side).

So, the mesh-set ones are out. I found some snowflake-shaped ones and ordered them. They just arrived today (Thursday), and are, therefore, outside, powering themselves up. I also bought a plain set for the holly hedge across the front of the house. I’ll have to let you know next time how everything’s working.

Oh, ’tis the season!

 

 

 

Here, on the left, is what the railing swag looks like. This is, of course, a flash photo, since I didn’t think about it during the daylight hours.

On the right, you can just barely see the little solar lights on the swag. They look brighter if you’re actually walking or driving by. And, I don’t really know how long each evening the lights stay on. I’ve gone to bed long before they use themselves up. But, you can see in the photo the two candle lights in the window, some of the lights from the tree, and at the top and down the side, the lights from the swag that easily turns on with the touch of a snowflake.

 

 

The only drawback, and it happened for a couple of nights earlier in the week, is that it only takes a couple of cloudy days to completely shut down the solar lights. So I guess it’s not a great choice for places in the northern reaches of our country, where the days are so much shorter. And, not so good in places where it’s overcast for much of the winter months. But, for us here in Texas, there’s usually lots more sunny days that cloudy ones. Perfect for someone who’s, you know, not exactly lazy, but … efficient.

 

Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of lights, who does not change like shifting shadows.

James 1:17 (Christian Standard Bible)

 

Every good and perfect gift comes down from the Father who created all the lights in the heavens. He is always the same and never makes dark shadows by changing.

James 1:17 Contemporary English Version (CEV)

 

Every generous act of giving, with every perfect gift, is from above, coming down from the Father of lights, with whom there is no variation or shadow due to change.

James 1:17 Contemporary English Version (CEV)

 

Every gift[a] God freely gives us is good and perfect,[b] streaming down from the Father of lights,[c] who shines from the heavens with no hidden shadow or darkness[d] and is never subject to change.

James 1:17 (The Passion Translation)

 

Everytime somebody give you someting nice an spesho, all dat come from yoa Fadda up dea inside da sky. He wen make all da lights inside da sky — da sun, an moon, an stars. But God no change jalike da tings inside da sky.

James 1:17 (Hawai’i Pidgin)

 

 

Beautiful lights. Just one part of a beautiful Christmas celebration.

 

 

I Do Some Things Better Than Others

| Joy, Love, Patience

As a senior adult, I’m growing accustomed to being a little bit (or a lot) behind on things. I don’t know that I’m up-to-date on much of anything beyond what medications older folks are taking these days, and what’s new in Baby Boomer-related issues, such as Medicare, Social Security, and those sorts of things.

But, I was a little bit dismayed when Kevin sent me a link last week after reading last week’s post about the issue of “that’s a great question.” The link relates to a podcast about that same issue. It was dated “January 15, 2015.” Yes, I’m almost four years late noticing it.

However, do know that the podcast is really interesting, and you should listen to it.

So, I’m not necessarily up on all things current. But, I do get some things done.

I like to rake. Mowers (and Edgers and Leaf Blowers) have been coming on Tuesday mornings since springtime to mow and tidy up the yard. A couple of weeks ago, I said I thought it was time for the winter break from yard work, and the guy in charge brought up the leaf issue. He wants to mow the leaves to shreds. I want to rake them up. I reminded him that I like to rake, and that we have a compost where I put them. For every bowl of peelings and cores (and things that have sat too long in the crisper) that I dump into the compost container, I add an armful of leaves. After a year, I leave Bin #1 to decay,  and I pull the nice, composted stuff that’s been percolating in Bin #2 out, to put into the garden. Then, I start adding stuff to the newly emptied Bin #2.

 

 

 

For years, Christmas crackers have been part of our holiday celebration. Sometimes, I can find them in local stores. Sometimes, I order them. This year, we put up the tree and decorated it the day after Thanksgiving, because everyone was here to help. Then, for the next days, and days, I got down a Christmas storage box and put out things. One box every few days. And I thought, Oh, do I need to order, or search for, crackers? Finally, a couple of days ago, I took down the big red basket that holds a variety of holiday things. And, there, TA-DAH, was a box of crackers, purchased, I suppose, a few days after Christmas, on sale probably!

 

 

Along with some other folks from my church, I volunteer each week as a Reading Buddy at an elementary school close to church. Every Tuesday, three second graders spend their lunch time, half an hour, with me, reading, to try to bring their reading skills up to grade level. We started in October. The information I got said that the kids were reading at Level 1, which turned out to be, um, mostly inaccurate. I have one girl who was in my reading group last year. She was reading behind the other two girls’ abilities, but tried hard. This year, she’s the star reader, mainly because the other two kids are way behind. There’s a boy who struggles with the simplest words. There’s another girl who, and I’m not exaggerating, could not read the words “the,” and “and.” That’s not a Level 1 reader. So now I’m choosing the 0.4 and 0.6 books, which still are not easy for those two.

I made some word cards. First thing last Tuesday, I laid out a sentence that began with the struggling girl’s name. I helped her read the words that were hard for her. Then, I put out the words for the boy, and he read his sentence, with help. Then, the last girl had a sentence three times longer than the other sentences, which she read pretty easily, as the others looked on. Then we moved on to our book, and each kid read a two-page spread (just a few words appear on each page). And by the end of lunch, that first little girl read, all by herself, “and” and “the,” every time they showed up!! AND, she read the word “wait,” which she had seen several times, as the book is about waiting.

We now have read all the 0.4-0.6 books that are on the shelves for the Reading Buddies to use. I think this week I’ll need to write a book about three second graders who like to read and eat lunch and go to school. (I plan to use the words “and” and “the” several times.)

 

 

Put your heart and soul into every activity you do, as though you are doing it for the Lord himself and not merely for others.

Colossians 3:23 (The Passion Translation)

 

Of course, it’s not all that difficult to put one’s heart and soul into every activity if it’s interesting and fun and satisfying.

 

Is It REALLY a Great Question?

| Patience

I’ve been noticing for a while, quite a while, I guess, what seems to be a bit of a change in question/answer situations. When a well-know person (in acting, in government, in a leadership position) is being interviewed by the press or voters or people who are simply interested, here’s what I’m hearing: “(Question gets asked)” and interviewee responds, “That’s a great question.” And, they then answer, explain, inform.

I hear it over and over again. “That’s a great question.” Sometimes, it’s only “That’s a good question.” But, the almost identical response happens. Again and again. No matter how many questions are asked, no matter what the particular topic, the interviewee almost always says: “That’s a good/great question.”

I wonder if the agents, support staff, or mothers, are giving the advice that says, “Always affirm the person who’s asking you a question. Let them know that you’ve heard what they asked and that you think it’s important, whether you think that or not.”

And I suppose it’s pretty good advice. When the hoi polloi are seeking answers and/or information, being treated with respect can go a long way toward getting elected, having one’s books purchased, or choosing to attend the touted play, movie, lecture, or meeting.

As with anything, too much repetition of a word or phrase can make the expression sound trite, which might make the listeners loose interest, turn a deaf ear, or completely ignore the response. I’ve been hearing, “That’s a great question” for months. And months. And months.

So, I have some suggestions:

“That’s an interesting question.”

“That’s an intriguing question.”

“I’m glad you asked me that.”

“That’s a topic I really enjoy talking about.”

“I’ve been doing some research about that very topic.”

“I was hoping someone would bring that up.”

“What a splendid question!”

“That’s a worthy question.”

“Super question. Thanks for asking it.”

Thesaurus.com‘s top thirteen synonyms for “good” are:

 

 

 

I admit, I don’t quite get the “bad” reference, unless it’s akin to “you’re so bad, you’re good.” And, “acceptable” seems a little wishy-washy. But I’m fond of “marvelous,” “superb,” and “valuable.”  Of course, after the interviewee has said, “That’s a valuable question,” they’d better have a really solid answer that proves the value of their information.

I do understand that often times, the people who are being interviewed have been interviewed scores and scores of times about their new movie, new job, race for office, desire for a new job or promotion, or more. They have responses and answers that they may have given lots of times. They’re pretty weary, I imagine. But, they might be able to learn a few more adjectives to help their listeners stay engaged. And, if they’ve said “That’s a great question,” then they’d better be sure that they’re going to give a great response.

 

It’s stupid and embarrassing to give an answer before you listen.

Proverbs 18:13 (Contemporary English Version)

 

And it’s also stupid and embarrassing to make up an answer if you don’t know what the actual answer is.

 

 

 

 

I’m Not All that Great a Gardener

| Faithfulness, Joy, Patience

Years ago, when we lived in our house that was built in 1912, I saw an idea for a small, compact garden, described in a women’s magazine. A ring garden. The plans said to dig up a nine-foot circle. Then, with metal stakes and wire mesh, we made a three-foot diameter compost area in the center. The plans gave specific instructions for what to plant and where, in the ring garden, with the plants that needed staking at the edge of the compost (like beans and tomatoes). Plants that needed the most moisture and nutrients were planted closer to the center. Plants needing less, were planted closer to the edges. The suggestion was to pour a bucket of water into the center, compost area, once or twice a week, if it didn’t rain. We followed the instructions to the letter. This, however, was a garden plan for some other part of the country–someplace where it rained more and the summer wasn’t scorching hot. We got some beets, I think, but not much else. We kept putting peelings into the compost, along with the errant squash or tomato that got left behind on a garden plant. Then, in the spring, as suggested by the magazine article, we pulled compost from the center and dug it into the garden to begin anew.

And, we did begin anew, but with seeds and plants that we knew we liked–summer squash and zucchini, tomatoes, and cucumbers.

Early one spring, I saw a little vine pushing from the edges of the compost bin. Obviously a squash, it was growing, I imagined, from something spoiled or bug-eaten that had been tossed into the compost the previous summer. Deep in the warmth, with rotting leaves and vegetable peelings, the seed germinated, and the sprouting plant pushed out into the sunlight. I watched as it grew, more vigorous than the squash vines I had started in the garden. It thrived, flowered, and began to set fruit. Hmmm. The two little round, green fruit on our vine were certainly not summer squash or zucchini, the only kinds of squash we plant and eat. I wondered what they were, thinking hard to recall some other kind of squash we might have had.

The squash grew bigger and greener and rounder, and I grew more and more perplexed. Not knowing what they were, I didn’t know when pull them from the vine. Then they began to turn orange.

One year, we planted cantaloupe. I think this was the total harvest. But, that is the ring garden, behind the boys.

Oh. Of course. Pumpkins. From last Thanksgiving.

When they were completely ripe, I picked and cooked and froze them. The next Thanksgiving, we enjoyed pumpkin bread and pumpkin pie from our surprise pumpkins.

 

A tree is identified by the kind of fruit it produces. Figs never grow on thorns, or grapes on bramble bushes.

Luke 6:44 (The Living Bible)

 

Squash, however, come in many varieties, most of whom grow on vines that look deceptively alike. Sometimes, you just have to wait and see what shows up.

One year, we had several volunteer tomato plants, scattered around in the ring garden. And, another year, the little garden was rife with, oh, yes, pumpkin plants. They are pretty aggressive, those pumpkins.

Brrrrr

| Goodness, Patience

We’ve had some weather. Of course, there’s always weather, it’s just a little more interesting at this time of year, as opposed to June-September here in Central Texas, when it’s nasty hot and consistent. I looked up “talking about the weather” and, of the three or four articles I read, my favorite one came from an Australian publication. Instead of labeling “weather conversation” as boring and tedious, the author says it’s a nice way to start a conversation with a stranger, particularly when riding up and/or down an elevator. At worst, you might get a grunt or a nod, at best, you might find a new friend.

Early this past week, the temperature was 26 degrees. Yes, 26. We don’t really know how to do 26. We don’t have the clothing for 26. We can keep piling on layers, but that just makes it difficult to move around, bend our arms, and that sort of thing.

When I checked the weather elsewhere, I saw that in Brooklyn, Jeremy and Sarah were enjoying temps of 46. Yes, in Brooklyn, New York, the air was twenty degrees warmer than here in Waco, Texas.

Things are back to more normal here. It’s warmed up, and the forecast says highs next week in the 50’s and 60’s, which is much more comfortable. And normal.

My dad grew up in Wauseon, Ohio, way up in the northeast corner of the state, almost all the way to Michigan. There was snow on the ground all winter, and the ice pond next to his house froze solid. They had ice skates and played hockey there.

One summer, when we’d gone up to visit, I was trying to explain the weather differences to my cousins. “Well, for example,” they said. “What do you wear on Thanksgiving day?”

“Slacks and a sweater,” I said.

“That’s what we wear,” they exclaimed, imagining, I think, that the temperatures weren’t all that different.

“Outside?” I asked.

Their faces changed. “Well, no,” they said.

Well, of course not! There was snow on the ground!

The only wool garment I own is a big ol’ navy pea coat. I’ve had it for years, and it’s large enough to fit over the several layers of clothes that I’m likely to be wearing whenever the temperature drops. I’ve had it on twice in the past few days. I might not need it again at all this winter.

I checked the weather forecast for Wauseon. Friday and Saturday there might be some precipitation, and the temperatures in the 20’s. But, on Thanksgiving Day, the high could be 41. And 44 on Friday. They might go out and play a few games of tennis.

Our forecast for Thanksgiving Day is a high of 62. But it might rain.

 

To those who send him, a trustworthy envoy is like the coolness of snow on a harvest day; he refreshes the life of his masters

Proverbs 25:13 (Christian Standard Bible)

 

I certainly understand how welcome an unexpected snowfall would be on a hot, harvest day. And, I’d like to be the kind of trustworthy envoy, or friend, or family member, who brings that sort of refreshment. Maybe while wearing my nice, wool coat.

 

 

 

And . . . It’s November

| Kindness, Love, Patience, Peace

June was all right. July was hot. August was hotter. September wasn’t much better. October hurried by and now it’s November, and I’m a little startled.

We’re still a little bit behind on average rainfall, but we’ve so made up for most of the deficit. We finally had a few sunny days, and then, with no warning that I got, Thursday turned dark and nasty.

I’d gone to the grocery store, sort of at the last minute, for Halloween treats. And, for me, those treats are apples. I certainly love candy and would eat it every day if I could. Junior Mints for breakfast, M&Ms for lunch, and Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups for dinner. If I could.

And Snickers and Mars Bars and Hershey Bars. And Butterfingers.

Yes, there’s a plate of goodies, but Kevin’s eating his apple.

But several years ago, I started handing out apples. Years ago, when Kevin was two, I took him to a family Halloween party. There were apples on the table, and every kid got one. Kevin cradled it with love. He’d never had a whole entire apple, all his own. I’ve seen the same thing with other kids; that “This is my apple and you stay away from it!” sort of attitude. So, I get apples.

Thursday morning was really dark. Heavy clouds. And then, mid-morning, pouring rain. Rain, and rain, and more rain. Then, in the afternoon, it kept on raining. Still, I opened the bags of apples and piled them into a basket and set it near the door. I turned on the outside lights. And had low expectations.

No kids live on our block or the next one up. I don’t see many kids in the neighborhood, despite the fact that there’s an elementary school at the end of the block. But, I don’t begrudge the groups of children that walk around, or are driven around, looking for houses with their lights on.

No one rang the doorbell until after 8:00. In the street, there were several parked cars with lights on. A caravan of sorts, I think, of families who were out searching for goodies. When I opened the door, there were ten or twelve kids, with their parents standing behind them. They said, “Trick or Treat!” (The littlest ones needed some prompting.)

“Happy Halloween,” I said, and held out my basket.

“Apples!” said the littlest ones, who were standing closest, and they reached in for their fruit.

“Apples?” said the older kids, as they pulled apples from the basket, just as happily.

“Thank you,” said a mom. “You are my favorite house!”

Nobody looked unhappy. And why would they, they already had loads of candy. Along with their shiny apple that was all their own.

The next, much smaller group came about a half hour later. They were just as happy with apples as the others.  And, that was it for the evening.

Only once, many years ago, two houses ago, did I have a grumpy Trick-or-Treater. The doorbell rang, I opened the door, and held out the basket with apples inside. The boy leaned over and stared down into the basket. He looked up at me and said, rather unkindly, “I don’t want an apple.”

I said, “Too bad. That’s all I’ve got.” He turned away, and walked back down the sidewalk, where his dad (I presume) was standing. When he got to the end of the sidewalk, his dad said, “What did you say to her!?!”

I closed the door, smiling just a little, hoping the kid was going to get some sort of instruction about grateful hearts and being kind and thankful for gifts that are freely given.

 

Yes, God will give you much so that you can give away much, and when we take your gifts to those who need them they will break out into thanksgiving and praise to God for your help.

2 Corinthians 9:11 (The Living Bible)

 

 

The Sunday after Halloween, I usually take the basket with the remaining apples to church, to preschool Sunday School. I peel and core the apples, and the children, using nice, safe knives, cut them up (into varying sized pieces, some rather large and some minuscule). Then, we put them into an electric skillet (in an out-of-the way place) and cook them. Then we squash them with a potato masher and have yummy homemade applesauce. We are thankful.

Dish? Washer!

| Joy, Patience

At some point in my childhood, I began, as did JoAnne, washing dishes. We started on Sundays, after our big roast beef and mashed potatoes Sunday dinner. Later, we began to wash dishes every weeknight, too.

Several years later, Mother waited until the KitchenAid dishwashers went on sale and bought one. She lost some storage space, as a cabinet and a couple of drawers had to be removed so the dishwasher could be installed. That dishwasher kept on washing dishes for about 30 years. And, even then, the dishes were getting washed, but the hinges on the door began to fall apart, and eventually, the door, once opened, wouldn’t close.

We replaced that dishwasher, but it only lasted three or four years. By then, Daddy had passed away, and David and I had moved in. The door (the door again!) had developed a leak that could not be repaired.  So, we were looking at having to get another new dishwasher. Without a lot of study on the matter, we took the advice of a salesman at one of those big stores that sell all sort of appliances (and paint and lumber, etc.), and bought a lemon. We didn’t know it was a lemon. It just was a lemon.

It needed two repairs while it was covered by warranty. And another one after that. Then the water didn’t flow into the machine. Repair people ordered a new part and replaced the old one. And, still, no water. At least not on a regular basis. Sometimes, it worked; sometimes it didn’t. I gave up.

This time, I tried to be more involved, pro-active, informed. I went to Consumer Reports to find the best, most reliable dishwashers, because, seriously, I’m thinking that this will be the last dishwasher I will buy. I went to all the local stores that sell dishwashers. And, in all those places, no one came to help me. And, I was walking up and down the dishwasher displays, taking photographs, reading the all the information posted on the machines. No one helped.

Ultimately, I went to Best Buy, which does sell appliances. And, does have salespeople who volunteer to help. Together, the salesman and I looked at machines, both in the store and online. He printed out a comparison of four machines and all their attributes, and sent me home with the information. David looked at the choices and thought the one I liked best was a good choice. I went back a few days later and ordered the machine, which, of course, would have to be ordered. So, I waited. And washed dishes. By hand.

At last, delivery day came.  The guy arrived right on time. He came in, looked things over, measured the space, and said, “It won’t fit. It’s too tall.”

(At this point, I can go on and on about what happened next, and next, and next. But, it’s a little boring. And tiresome. So, we’ll cut to . . .)

Then the new dishwasher arrived. It got installed with no additional issues (well, there was that plumbing thing . . .)

Just let me say that dishwashers have changed since my mother bought a top of the line KitchenAid. The days of “put the dishes in the dishwasher, add the detergent, press ‘Start'” are long past. Long past.

I read the user’s manual twice through. I spent an hour or so dealing with the local water hardness issue. Yes, there’s an issue.

This machine needs to know the water hardness level of our local water. I was supposed to contact my water department to find out what the hardness level is. I pretty much knew already, but I did go to the web site and look it up. We’re at the dishwasher’s level 7, the highest one. That’s important, because I’m supposed to put in “Special Dishwashing Salt” to help the dishwasher to clean appropriately. And, the booklet says, very clearly, that I should NOT use rock salt or table salt, but only “Special Dishwashing Salt,” which, of course, one can get from Amazon. So, I had to wait a couple of days to use the dishwasher for the first time.

There is a place in the machine for the “Special Dishwashing Salt,” and a special funnel for putting it in. And, I have to use the digital display to inform the dishwasher what hardness level our water is, so that the machine will, um, do something with the salt, so that my dishes will get good and washed, the way they’re supposed to.

 

 She is energetic, a hard worker,  and watches for bargains.

Proverbs 31:17b, 18 (The Living Bible)

 

Funny thing about bargains. Just because something is inexpensive, sometimes time will tell whether it’s a bargain or not. Something expensive is a bargain if it lasts for a long time. Something inexpensive may turn out to be the opposite of a bargain, if the repairfolks have to keep coming back again and again and again, to fix something that never has worked properly.

A Drop in the Bucket

| Patience, Peace

Official rainfall records began to be kept in Waco in December, 1901. Apparently, it was a late decision, as the only rainfall listed for 1901 is December (1.50 inches). As of this year, the average rainfall is 36 inches per year. (I’m assuming that this number changes each year, as they should/might recalculate a new “average” each year, by incorporating each year’s actual rainfall into all the previous years, and creating a new average.)

Here are some rainfall totals over the years.

1905-60.20–This is the greatest rainfall listed.

1919-52.07–This was a good year, too.

1954-14.92–This is the lowest yearly rainfall total.

2004-59.69–This total, just a few years ago (well, a few years ago, considering the over one hundred years of records), was close to the record yearly rainfall (back in 1905).

Meanwhile, the constant, dripping, driving rainfall that we’ve seen for the past two or three days, has waned a little. When I went out first thing Thursday morning, there were some dry spots on the driveway.

This year, in Central Texas, we had substantially less rainfall than the average, with summer monthly totals of .20, .47, and .57. Then, in September, we had 4.9 inches. As of Thursday, we’ve had 9.53 inches for October. Now, we’re trying to recall what a sunny day was like.

 

The normal year-to-date rainfall total, as of yesterday, was 27.36. The actual year-to-date total, as of yesterday, was 24.04. The weather app on my phone shows little rainy-day icons for all day tomorrow, and several days in the coming week. We might make it!

Research can be so much fun. I’ve spent quite a while looking at the maps at the National Weather Service. I understand the green parts that show Flash Flood Watches and Flood Advisories in my part of Texas. (It has been raining a a lot.) But I’m also seeing freeze warnings and frost advisories for areas where family lives, and, I got a little side-tracked by “Special Weather Statements,” that come from parts of the country where I don’t think I know anybody.

 

 

The Lord will send rain to water the seeds you have planted—your fields will produce more crops than you need, and your cattle will graze in open pastures.

Isaiah 30:23 (Contemporary English Version)

 

Okay. I don’t actually have any cattle. The only animals I have in my backyard are squirrels. But I’m grateful for the rain that nourishes my plants and trees. I’m comforted to know that the large, local lake is filling up with water for drinking and cleaning and bathing. I thank God for the rain.