Mom used to have a pile of clothing that was her “mending pile.” There were the pants and jeans that needed a patch on the knees, or a hem that had come loose, or a button that needed sewn back on, or dresses that needed to be shortened or lengthened. Until she sat at her sewing machine, that pile would remain a lump in the corner.

I liked when she taught me how to sew a button. I could do that. She even had my sister and I take sewing lessons one summer and I made something horrific but she was so proud.  Florence Marie a.k.a. Mrs. Walter, my home ec teacher in high school, attempted once again to teach me the finer skills of patterns and zippers, but all I took out of her class was a dreadful pair of bright orange balloon pants. I am SURE I was dinnertime conversation for her and Glen, a.k.a Mr. Walter.

I would rather just sign in to Amazon Prime or any other .com and order new, rather than mend. It’s easier. It’s lazier. It’s not hard. It doesn’t require effort and time…and skill.

As we listened to the message from church yesterday, our pastor mentioned lots of different “Mom” scenarios and the hard parts of celebrating Mother’s Day. He spoke on the passage of scripture in Luke when Joseph and Mary lost Jesus and didn’t even realize it. He spoke about moms who live with guilt and regret, moms who have lost a child, moms who are estranged from their children, women who couldn’t have children, moms who have gone on to heaven and are no longer with us. It seems to me that the older I become, the harder this day is for me. For the last seven years, I have not enjoyed this day. And since my mending Mom has gone to heaven, I try to pretend this day does not exist and try to make it a regular Sunday, just so the pain is buried.

I can relate to our pastor’s list. (1) My mom is no longer here,  (2) I live with much regret and guilt, but (3) I am also a mom who is estranged from a child.

Mending is hard. Mending a relationship, a broken heart – I can’t just order a new one from Amazon.

I am grateful today for these words from I Corinthians, reminders to me that my years AS a mom brought me so many beautiful memories, memories WITH my mom live on, memories of BEING a mom carry me on the hard days when I hurt and feel sorry for myself, and they spur me on to live by these words, to continue mending, as I am able:

Love never gives up.
Love cares more for others than for self.
Love doesn’t want what it doesn’t have.
Love doesn’t strut,
Doesn’t have a swelled head,
Doesn’t force itself on others,
Isn’t always “me first,”
Doesn’t fly off the handle,
Doesn’t keep score of the sins of others,
Doesn’t revel when others grovel,
Takes pleasure in the flowering of truth,
Puts up with anything,
Trusts God always,
Always looks for the best,
Never looks back,
But keeps going to the end.

Sanford, because if Sam had a son, they both would own a junk yard full of things that the guys from American Pickers would love. Sanford, because Sam likes auctions and buying boxes of things to store in the basement, never to be seen again until moving day.

Clampett, because…well, the pictures describe that perfectly. The two of us packed up all our belongin’s on Sunday and headed west to our “Beverly Hills.” Besides, I have the personality of Granny sometimes, and Sam is most definitely Jed.

But I also have a little Ellie Mae in me – because the passenger seat and blanket were completely reserved for little Natia. All she had to share was the floor…with our plant named Klahr.

Douglass, because Sam is also Oliver Wendell, none other. He’s a farmer at heart, and he tinkers. Boy does he ever. And he farms our football field-sized yard, better known as “Green Acres.” And he and his wife are living in a constant state of mess and remodel, just like on the tv show.

I’m no Lisa, but I do like pretty things, and I do attempt to cook (tonight is “hotscakes night”), and I do try to make the best of the mess.

So, I am grateful to be almost completely moved to our “Beverly Hills” small town USA.

I am grateful for boxes and boxes of one man’s junk that became Sam’s “treasures,” because they just make the yard sale that much bigger.

I am grateful that we were fit enough to be able to pack and load by ourselves, and I am grateful that we had a nice bed to crash into when the weekend was done and the trip was over.

I am grateful that we were not grumpy with each other and actually laughed all afternoon and sang, “You and me against the world…sometimes it feels like, you and me against the world.”

I am grateful that one neighbor saw our Clampett-mobile and told Sam he would be missed as we left.

I am grateful for the new neighbors who were at the ready with a gallon of homemade ice cream when we pulled into our “Beverly Hills” driveway on Sunday night.

I am grateful for a kitchen to make hotscakes tonight. All we need is a pig named Arnold.

I am grateful for dust to dust, boxes to unpack, counters to clean, tools to put away, floors to sweep/mop/vacuum, furniture to move, the Clampett-mobile and trailer to unload – there’s no time to get bored these days.

And I am grateful for the beautiful “Green Acres” yard that Sam farms, and for the lilacs that line the entire west side.

Good-bye city life! Green acres we are HERE!

Then turning to the woman, but speaking to Simon, he said, “Do you see this woman?… 

…She was forgiven many, many sins, and so she is very, very grateful. If the forgiveness is minimal, the gratitude is minimal.” – Luke 7:44, 47

This woman:

• cries during messages at church that cut to the core.
• looks in a pantry full of food and cannot put anything together.
• just wants to stare at sweet Natia all day.
• cannot break free of the painful memories.
• gets mad at herself for neglecting her friends.
• relates to the woman with the alabaster jar, relates to the woman at the well, relates to the woman accused of adultery watching Jesus draw in the sand, relates to Martha, relates to Mary Magdalene, relates to Eve, and relates to Hagar. I would like to relate to Esther, too.
• is still startled when called by her first name.
• loves the smell of coffee, but not the taste of coffee.
• is a sinner.
• is a little obsessive compulsive when it comes to dandelions gone to seed.
• is heartbroken over the three dead dogwoods in the front yard.
• has a mind that swims with regret and bitter and anger and lonely and depression but also joy and peace and happiness and silliness and love and compassion and worry and concern and the desire to fix it all and spill all the feelings out to anyone who will listen.
• can pay bills now, all by herself.
• is too fat and knows it and wants to lose the weight but doesn’t want to eat salad and vegetables.
• loves road trips.
• prays without ceasing these days.
• regrets many things in life.
• worries about her sister.
• craves Taco Johns and Freddy’s fries and potato chips.
• misses her music kids but not the stress, misses the musicals but not the stress, misses summers off but not the dread of August.
• is sore and overwhelmed and so glad to be in small town USA, even though she is sore and overwhelmed with the unpacking and the sorting and the finding a place for it all.
• realizes she is old and likes things kinda boring and is okay with that.
• loves time with her husband on the porch at night in the stillness, watching the stars, but also loves time with her husband on the other porch in the early morning stillness, listening to the birds wake up the neighborhood.
• has heart palpitations and rising blood pressure when reliving the trauma of the past.
• would rather listen to talk radio than music radio.
• appreciates a Dad who came to help.
• wishes she could fix people who hurt with silence.
• must shower every morning. It’s her luxury.
• laughs at Jim Gaffigans, Jimmy Kimmels, Jim Halperts, and Jimmy Fallons. Jims make her laugh.
• is understood by God, is seen by God, is comforted by Him, and she is very, very grateful.

She answered God by name, praying to the God who spoke to her, “You’re the God who sees me!

“Yes! He saw me; and then I saw him!” – Genesis 16:13, The Message

I am grateful for my beautiful card from Anissa that makes me cry happy and gives me aches when I read it. It says, “Ama, I gave vis to you dekus you can awas wememr me.” Translation for those who do not read Anissish: “Ama, I gave this to you because you can always remember me.”

I will never forget you, my sweet Anissa.

I am grateful for my work family and for our first annual Dip Off and Pickleball outing. I’m wishing I had some dip off today. The cheescake dip was the winner in my books. Although the chocolate chip dip and the snickers dip were pretty close to the top. I can do without the yucky dips, though. However, put potato chips with just about any dip, and any dip’ll do.

I am grateful for my feast of jello and broth all the day long today. In honor of Sam I Am and because my sister insists.

The Lord your God is with you… He will take great delight in you, He will quiet you with His love. He will rejoice over you with singing. – Zephaniah 3:17

I am grateful for the silence of the morning, for the smell after rain, for the beauty of flowers in the kitchen window.

I am grateful for the feeling that God is rejoicing and singing when I walk from the truck to the office and hear the cardinals, when I sit at my desk and hear them just outside my window, when I wake up in the morning, and when I sit on the patio outside at the end of the day.

I am grateful that my Dad goes above and beyond. Our dumpster is notoriously full one day after trash day, thanks to a husband who throws a whole lotta demo material and unwanted junk away on a regular basis. We are bad citizens who have not recycled, and we are bad dumpster owners who do not break things down to make the most of the space. That’s where Dad comes in. I promise you, almost every week, he takes the time to go through our dumpster and break down boxes and rearrange the order of all things garbage-y. It’s not even his trash. And on top of that, every day when I am in town, Dad drives to the house just to take little Natia for a walk and retrieve the junk mail that will find its way to the dumpster.

And I am grateful for the joy of watching a dog’s face in the breeze while driving down College Boulevard at lunchtime.

I am grateful for roasted pecans.

I am grateful for Natia paws.

I am grateful for tragic news stories that remind me how blessed I am that I was not the victim of a tragic news story.

I am grateful for cold and rainy days. I think I could live in Seattle…if I were independently wealthy and could stay in my luxurious home with a fireplace and read books all day long, just me, Natia, and a blanket.

I am also grateful for sunshine after a cold and rainy day, though.

I am grateful for the pleasant feelings when I see this:

I am grateful for a new bird sound this morning on our pre-sunrise walk.

I am grateful for colored pens.

I am grateful that God is patient with me.

I am grateful for a stack of cards sitting right here beside me to make me feel guilty until they are written on and mailed.

I am grateful for clean socks.

I am grateful for Christmas colored M&Ms that are still good in April.

I am grateful for two new friends. It doesn’t matter that they are under the age of 16. Sometimes those are the best friends.

I am grateful for a dandelion digger to use instead of the weed killer spray. But I’m also grateful for the immediate pleasure of blowing wishes.

I am grateful for animal crackers when desperate for sweetness.

I am grateful for John and his hard work in selling the house that now makes our life much easier.

I am grateful for the quiet prayers spoken by Sam.

I am grateful for a scrub brush to use while washing dishes.

I am grateful for a few tulips that survived the freeze.

I am grateful my brother is okay after a work accident.

I am grateful my Dad was able to see new places and have new experiences yesterday, thanks to my sister.

And I am grateful that my parents made sure I grew up knowing my grandparents on both sides, aunts and uncles and cousins. They provided that sense of family…and that pressure to not lose touch. Time to get busy. Three months and counting.

I woke up this morning, crying. I had been crying in a dream. What an odd feeling. I started to wake Sam up and tell him what had happened that made me cry, but just as I was beginning to say something, I realized it had been a dream.

Still. Those emotions lingered and I wasn’t able to go back to sleep.

I am grateful for sad dreams. Evidence of deep down emotion. Sad dreams remind me to count my blessings, because I have been given many blessings.

I am grateful for the sounds of hammering all over this small town, evidence of roofs being replaced after a hailstorm.

I am grateful for warm sunshine on my shoulders mid afternoon as I sat on the front porch for a fresh air break, evidence of a beautiful spring day in small town USA.

I am grateful for sounds of a woodpecker and a mourning dove and robins and a cardinal – like the children playing in the park across the street, evidence that they all had something to say, or sing.

I am grateful for people who sing or whistle while they work. Evidence of happiness.

And I am grateful for disappointment. Evidence, once again, of deep down emotion, and an opportunity to try again…

I am grateful for the way the wind sounds at 2:43 am as it whistles through the screen of our open bedroom window.

I am grateful for the message of “I Can Only Imagine,” and grateful that I sat next to Sam last night in the theater and felt him sobbing as we were both touched by the story.

I am grateful for my mom’s attention to detail and the fact that it was passed down to me when it comes to editing, even though I drive some people crazy.

I am grateful for my single kitchen sink.

I am grateful that Sam takes care of the hard things and spares me but includes me so that if I ever have to deal with the hard things, I will have the knowledge and ability.

I am grateful for Brandy and her story that makes us close. We are not alone on our journey, and someday, we will share those ashes that God replaced with a new, beautiful life.

I am grateful for a speech my niece wrote about my wonderful mom. Tears of joy and sadness all at the same time…

And I am grateful for stress and sleeplessness and a mother-worry that brings me to my knees.

“If you’re lucky enough to do well, it’s your responsibility to send the elevator back down.” – Jennifer Dukes Lee post

I am grateful for people who do things for others in secret and don’t share it with anyone else. They just do it, and no one knows but God.

It’s those stories you read…about someone who gave and gave and no one knew until the person was gone from this life and their goodness was discovered.

Mom used to tell me that if you needed the accolades and the appreciation after doing good, that is all you get. But if you do good in secret, God will reward you in Heaven, and that’s the best.

When I was on Facebook, I always thought it was interesting to watch the people who posted the good things they do for others – we’re addicted to those “likes” by others. It’s similar to the people on social media who take constant pictures of themselves or their children or their latest food creation or…fill in the blank. They want people to “like” their world. I guess it’s similar to me and my writing and checking to see how many people have read what I wrote.  We want those accolades and that appreciation. We want the attention. We want our tribe, our circle, to approve and shower us with praise. We want, but we don’t need.

I love what Jennifer Dukes Lee shared:

http://www.incourage.me/2018/04/learned-movie-can-imagine.html

She made me think. I went off in another direction, but I am grateful for her lesson about doing for others today. It was a great reminder for me to give to others and do for others when I have reached a higher floor.

And it was a conviction to do so without posting it, without subtly putting it into a conversation, without any expectation of a pat on the back – just a pat on the heart.

Here is a simple rule of thumb for behavior: Ask yourself what you want people to do for you; then grab the initiative and do it for them! If you only love the lovable, do you expect a pat on the back? Run-of-the-mill sinners do that. If you only help those who help you, do you expect a medal? Garden-variety sinners do that. If you only give for what you hope to get out of it, do you think that’s charity? The stingiest of pawnbrokers does that. (Luke 6:31-34)

…you have everything you need.

I am grateful for…

…a pleasant surprise in the form of a letter.

…a house, sold.

…the gift of an ordinary day.

…just a closer walk with Thee.

…Barbara Bush.

…free samples at Costco.

…taxes done.

…the beauty of a quiet drive and farmland.

…ellipses.

…a new idea for weekly community dinner around our table, complete with paper towels and conversation.

…a fireplace when the boiler goes out.

…my brother and sister who visit my Dad.

…boxes to unpack.

…new friends who drop by unannounced.

…prayer that is constant inside my head.

…a beautiful Ansyr blanket and a portrait of my grandchildren and I that arrived in the mail.

…Sam, who loves me, tells me so, and shows me constantly.

…for a stressful but wonderful weekend full of news and work and finally, home.

Lesson #344: Never clean the house when you feel like a zombie.

Lesson #167: Move every two years, just to get rid of stuff. That’s Dad wisdom, through and through.

Lesson #375: Label everything that is liquid and has been put into a spray bottle, so you don’t have a surprise when you go to clean the windows.

Lesson #12: Don’t have pets and carpet. Pets OR carpet, maybe. Not pets AND carpet.

Lesson #117: Don’t wait until you sell your home to fix it up. It makes you not want to sell your home when you fix it up and make it picture pretty.

Lesson #400: Junk drawers are not your friend. They are junk.

Lesson #1: It is good to have family and friends who do nice things for you when you are getting ready to sell your home. Appreciate them.

One home, almost ready for open house. Just don’t look in the garage. Yikes. (That just means one major garage sale, coming soon. We’re not selling the garage, however. Just the mountain of stuff inside.)

Thank you Cosmo, Mike, John, Angela, Dwight, and Dad. We are so very grateful for all you have done to help us get things ready. John, do your thing!