What’s My Pattern?

Yesterday, I was pulling weeds from the gaps in our brick side walk. It suddenly occurred to me that I had never taken notice of the pattern in which the bricks were laid. It was not a familiar pattern like the herringbone or the basket weave. I remembered the brick walk it did thirty years ago in front of our house on Lakeview a few blocks away from where I live now. I started by digging out the grass where I thought a path was needed. I seriously thought I would use the bricks I collected from the beach and make a herringbone pattern that would easily follow the curve I prepared. Hundreds can be found from an old roadway that used to exist along Lake Erie. It turned out I needed to order a whole pallet to complete the job. We later redid it with a proper sand base and a brick cutter to fit the edge pieces. My son-in-law, Lewis, just completed laying a new walk in front of their house where he and Bethany had to replace an entire septic system. They sent a picture of a beautiful new walk with a traditional basket weave design. I can testify to the hard labor of this project and the need for planning, preparing and executing the design carefully. Careful is not my forte, but I was proud of the outcome even though it does not compare to Lewis’s craftsmanship. Back to the driveway and sidewalk pattern that my Hubby’s parents had completed twenty years ago. I could not find a name for this pattern. It looks to me like a cross made from standard pavers, with half sized blocks filling in each corner. Part of one cross connects to the next one. This choice does not surprise me because there is a long standing tradition of Christian faith in the family. Grandma Warren had once pointed out the Christian doors in the house that have a cross and open bible design on them. I got very excited by this and thought about how the patterns in our lives repeat and are interconnected. Every generation has a somewhat new pattern in their lifestyle, but certain elements are evident from previous generations. Retro design is something I enjoy because it reminds us of the whimsical past. Faith practices are similar in patterns of worship that repeat and new music and customs are added in every generation. Our creative expressions are important and our creative energy connects us in community with one another. God intended for us to express ourselves and invent new expressions to build relationships. It could be that the way we lay stones reflect something important from each era. The main point is that we are laying pathways that welcome others to connect with us. If we keep our paths clear and our hearts open, there is a multitude of wonders that we can experience with one another. There are so many patterns for building a path. Be sure to include love, because that is written in stone.

Skin Deep

Reposting a blog from three yeas ago that is still relevant today. Also, my daughter has come to expect a Saturday blog with her tea even if I am on vacation.

Yesterday, I reached for the travel size moisturizer and then realized I just slathered hair conditioner on my legs. My skin needs tremendous help due to years of sun damage. Maybe this is the miracle I have been looking for. I have worked and played outside all day in the summer sun most of my life. By June, my grandmother would always say “You are as brown as a berry”, and indeed I had a tan so dark that I looked like another nationality. In the winter my mother would say, ” You look like death warmed over”, because I was so pale and pallid. Thankyou to the inventor of blush. So, my obsession with skincare started at an early age while I secretly wished I had chocolate brown skin all year. Then tanning beds were invented. Well, I have learned long ago that those are dangerous too. Oh, to have beautiful skin like the women near the equator. My friend Lise, always said, “Beauty is skin deep”. I didn’t quite understand the implication at the time, but now I know she meant what is in the heart is the most important and beautiful part of a woman. We cannot judge a person by their skin. We cannot make assumptions based on a person’s hair, make up, or clothes. We must invite all people to join in loving service to one another. We must teach our families to embrace all people and to even love their enemy. There is no other way to live in peace.

Totally Fit is committed to bringing all women together and to inspiring them to be whole in spirit, soul, and body. We realize how very different all of us are in the way we look, feel, and worship; but we embrace our differences to gather as one in praise of a Savior who rescues us from our failings. We laugh, cry, hug, and pray with one heart, and with many voices we sing and share the knowledge that leads us to a better life through Christ. We are one in the Spirit as we learn about and serve others in the community. Our goal is always to be healthy and whole to give glory to God with all our being. Let us gather now as one to pray for peace and bring comfort to those who are broken hearted and hurting.

We can try to change the color and texture of our skin, but we must condition our hearts to understand, forgive, and love deeply beyond the skin.

I love You Very Mulch

This week, I was hoping to see our yard man spreading mulch so I would not have to spend hours each day fighting with the invasive plants. He could not schedule us in, so I ordered fifteen yards of double shredded brown mulch myself. It was delivered two hours later and deposited on our driveway. Heart palpitations started at the sight of the mountain that I had to conquer on my own. After eight hours of of loading a wheel barrow, dumping it into the garden beds, and spreading it evenly around the shrubbery and flowers; I was exhausted and elated at how much I accomplished. Then hubby came home. He could barely pull into the driveway because of the huge pile that was still blocking his way to the garage. He changed his clothes and started filling the wheelbarrow and transporting the heavy loads to the places that were the hardest to reach for me. He spent a couple hours with the pith fork, while I spread the mulch in the flowerbeds with the rake. We had serious doubts about being able to play golf the next day, knowing our back muscles would be sore at us. As we climbed out of bed in the morning, bent over like ancient invalids, I prepared to return to the the mulch pile while hubby went to the office. The day was gorgeous and perfect for outdoor activity. I completed spreading shredded wood to all the places I hope not to see weeds for the rest of the summer. It looks like we only depleted the hill by half. At least seven yards of mulch are left! My neighbor asked if she could have a couple barrows full, so I wheeled them over. I suspect our driveway will become the neighborhood gathering place to get fine quality ground cover. I am not sure how I overestimated what I needed. Even though I am walking like the Tin Man in need of oil, it was great exercise for my upper body and quads. I was careful to drink plenty of fluid every fifteen minutes and work in the shade when possible. I tried to use good posture and took breaks so I would not put too much stress on my back. I prayed that I would not injure myself or my hubby in our endeavors. What is the lesson? Know your limits? That is hard because the consequences are not realized until after eight hours of sedentary sleep time have occurred. Stay in shape? I don’t really know what is reasonable for age sixty-one. Pay someone to do the work? I actually offered fifty dollars and hour to the truck driver to come back and spread the mulch. His eyes got big but he didn’t return. I think I will just remember that hard work happens. We have to do whatever it takes to accomplish the things that are important, and not be afraid to ask for help. God finds interesting ways for me to make friends and help neighbors. In this I am blissfully happy. I hope this mountain does not remain a conversation piece for too long. Faith in myself to move mountains was shaky, but now I know God would have me do it one barrow at a time. Our pitchfork is a symbol of a good day’s work. We did make it to the golf course late in the afternoon, and my stiff muscles improved my swing! I over-putted on every green, so I must have new found strength. I pray for many more opportunities to gather outdoors. Our world is a wonderful creation that does not need our improvements, but I am still  trying to find Eden.

Dazzling White

Yesterday, I was digging in the dirt. This is something I enjoy doing in the Spring because it means that we will reap the benefits of flowers, herbs and vegetables throughout the summer. I also love the aroma of the earth and the mint as I cultivate the things I have planted, and care for the vegetation that Grandma Warren and Mamma Cordell planted years ago. Well, yesterday I was showered and dressed in white jeans, ready to go on an adventure with my hubby. There was an hour before departure and the garden called to me, so I decided to tend to a few plants without changing into my grungy clothes. I knew full well that I was flirting with disaster.  Of course I did not kneel on the ground, and I wore gloves to protect my freshly polished nails. It was a cool morning, so I thought there was no danger of sweating while I puttered. I put pansies in two pots on our front porch and added two echinacea plants in the herb garden, then went inside to wash up. There was no sign of dirt anywhere! Incredible that I took such a risk and came out clean. White clothes rarely remain without stains in our house. I have even quit the process of soaking and using Shout it out products, Tide to go sticks and washing in bleach. I just buy new “whites”. This gives me fond memories of one daughter that was always wearing white on spaghetti night. We were tempted to give her a bib even in her teens. Most of us want the appearance of being clean, but what matters most is that we are pure of heart. This condition could be as impossible as me keeping clean white jeans while gardening, but it is made possible by a Savior that loves us. In the letter to Titus we read:

He saved us, not on the basis of deeds which we have done in righteousness, but according to His mercy, by the washing of regeneration and renewing by the Holy Spirit. Titus 3:5

It was not my good luck and incredible carefulness that kept me clean. It is not my good deeds that keep my heart pure. It is mercy. I am reminded every week as I muddle through life, that I am here by the grace of God. I am loved by a merciful God that loves you too, and wants us to love one another. It is important to stop trying to dig up dirt on each other and instead plant a garden filled with joy, peace, patience, and goodness so that we may be whole: Spirit, Soul, and Body. Walk with me in our generational garden. There is something there for all of us. Our dazzling whites may not last, but real love lasts forever.

A Touching Situation

Last week, we were on vacation in Spain and Italy. We stayed in the ancient city of Girona near the Costa Brava, and then traveled to Florence to celebrate the Marriage of Ashley and Nick. It was a time of refreshing and reconnecting. We had to marvel at the ease in which we could adventure from town to town on the trains, and buses. And there was walking. Walking has been a struggle for me and hubby sometimes as our knees, feet, and spines are starting to complain. And yet, the cobbled streets and stone sidewalks beaconed to me, and made me stronger this time as we navigated through the beautiful Roman constructions that have been a fortress since the twelfth century. Every step we climbed to the castles and churches gave me a greater strength and endurance that I have been desiring. Our trip was nearly without mishap. Then, our first day in Florence, we were strolling around the Uffizi Plaza. The marble statues still evoke wonder, and I tried to capture some images on my phone. Every so often, my hubby would stand still to be in the picture. Once a day, I got him to take a picture of me in front of a lovely scene. (I don’t know what we will do with all the images stored in our cloud.) Well, I started to climb the steps for a closer look at the Roman Gods and stopped by the Lion. “Here honey, get a shot of this,” I said as I touched the Lion on his paw. There was a loose chain there that I lifted, somehow feeling that it was symbolic. The mighty lion breaks the chains of our captivity and gives us freedom to live in unity with the people of God- or something like that. My thoughts were halted by the sound of a whistle and the apologetic look on my hubby’s face. A women of some official capacity came up to me and said in a melodic Italian accented English, “Do not touch!” I moved along quickly as she rearranged the chain I had lifted. My hubby pleaded with me not to start a national incident and get us arrested. He does not know what to do about my impulsive behavior, so I tried to behave after that. My love language is touch. I like to touch people and I am a hugger. I like to touch the objects I am looking at. I am the second child, so my mother did not have the time to tell me not to touch things, and I learned the hard way. We should try to respect people’s space, so another way to touch someone is with our words of support and love. Lives can change and even be saved through our words of encouragement and hope. To the artists and sculptors who have blessed us with the beauty of their creations; I thank you. I could feel the lion roar and see the power in his sinews. I have been touched by the hands of the creator.