Today was a challenging day.  Schools (along with everyone on the planet) are being called on to do some fairly extraordinary things.  Stress levels are high and that can bring out our base, selfish, human instincts -- the ones where we look out for ourselves -- and no one else, the ones where we take offense when none was meant, the ones where we throw everyone else under the bus for our personal benefit.   There is such a need for compassion and grace -- maybe now, more than any other time in my life.  And yet, we tend to gravitate to the opposite extreme in times of stress.  I came home venting, eating ice cream, stressed and frustrated, put a dollop of Baileys in my afternoon coffee and came upstairs to my place of solace, and felt more at peace. 

I was excited to have received a little package in the mail today -- some adhesive tabs for my writing journal.  The one I'm using is almost full  -- of anything and everything  --for the last 4 years.  There are some things I want to keep coming back to, so I wanted to mark them.  As I settled into the WordSmithery with my new adhesive treasures and my writing journal, I found this poem I wrote 4 years ago as part of the Teachers Write Program with Kate Messner.  It spoke to me especially today in the midst of so much chaos in my personal little world -- with talk of a Cat 4 Hurricane coming for part of our country, wildfires raging in another part, yet another part that was devastated by storms over the last few days -- with racial turmoil and upheaval high, with Covid/Corona wreaking havoc on everyone's heart. . . . it spoke to me.  Then I spoke it aloud.  Now I "speak" it here -- hoping it will speak to you and you will speak it in your heart or aloud, that you will share it and others will speak it and we will change the turmoil into peace by being "only one" . . .

I am Only One

I am only one, but I am one.
​
Father, help me be one --
That smiles at the one who needs a smile.
Help me be one who lends a listening ear.
Help me be one who reaches out with a hand of help -- not condemnation.
Help me be one who shines with the light of Jesus -- 
One who shares His vision,
One who shares His love for each soul,
One who speaks truth with love and compassion,
One who is willing to STAND!

Stand with those who are alone.
Stand for those who are marginalized.
Stand beside those who are hurting.
Stand firm in truth and justice.
Stand up to those who would take rather than give.
Stand up to those who glean pleasure from another's pain.
Stand up to those who base their judgements on a person's skin color --
      or their profession.
Stand up to those who divide.
Stand up to those who choose evil.

Father, I am only one, but help me be the ONE
That can make a difference today.

Note:  This was my entry for last year's NCRA Young Author Project in the "Forever Young" category.  The theme was, "The Power of Words"  My entry, and others from across the state have been published in an anthology attesting to the power of words.
​


I am a logophile -- a lover of words.  My favorite games are Scrabble and Boggle and Scattergories. I love the song “Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious” -- (and no, I didn’t even have to look up how to spell it). . . . it resonates with me...having a word that is just right when you don’t know what to say.  Words have power.  Some have power when they roll off the tongue -- you feel it to the core of your being when you say, “superfluous” or “meticulous” or “serendipity” or “paradoxical” or “zephyr”-- the power of words well-spoken -- just right for the occasion.  Some words have power in the meaning -- they are deep and life-changing:  love, betrayal, acceptance, loyalty, and trust.  The power of some words come from the speaker and their abilities, their charm, their magnetism -- for good -- or for bad.  When Hitler spoke -- or Martin Luther King Jr -- people listened to their words -- and there was power in them -- power in words well-crafted, framed and embellished by a powerful speaker, lilted, tilted, and crescendoed at just the right time in just the right way -- eloquence. Poets and authors -- gifted with mellifluous words that drip off the tongue like so much honey -- have long since and will forever more draw us to anger or tears or fear or love -- just by their words. A word, spoken in anger and frustration can ruin a friendship.  Another word can just as easily build one. Words are the DNA of life -- the building blocks of careers and relationships and stories, passed down from one generation to the next -- the genes of literacy.  
Even God used words to create something from nothing -- “Let there be light.” -- and there was light. Such power flows from tongue and lips and teeth.  Such power resonates from heart and head. With great power comes great responsibility.  That is why the scriptures say to guard our heart -- because everything flows from it.  That is why the psalmist says, “May the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart be pleasing to you,  O Lord, my rock and my redeemer.”  I don’t know of any greater prayer.  It has been weighing heavy on my heart -- to make my words count -- to make them encouraging and positive.  If, indeed, the Creator shared his gift of words with me, the least I can do is to use them in ways that will make Him smile and make a difference for good in this world, because words have the power to do just that!

This photo was taken when our house was still in the city limits, being used as a real estate office... major highway out front, gas stations, drug stores, fast food and a Chinese restaurant surrounded her here. In fact, a Wendy’s fast food restaurant now occupies this lot.

Last week I shared a bit about our old house.  When I set out to write last week's blog, I had originally intended to write about our experience relative to one of my favorite picture books, THE LITTLE HOUSE by Virginia Lee Burton.   It wasn't always a favorite book.  I only encountered this one as an adult.  It has always been one of my husband's favorites, though.  Now it is very special to both of us because of our experience with our own "little house". 

Like both of the houses in question, the book is a classic and nothing new. . . The copyright is 1942.  If you'd like the read the biography of author, Virginia Lee Burton, here is a link to an excellent brief bio from an educational publisher.  She was an amazing woman who was good at so many things.  http://www.houghtonmifflinbooks.com/features/mike_mulligan/biohome.shtml 

The book begins, "Once upon a time there was a Little House way out in the country.  She was a pretty Little House and she was strong and well built."  The same is true for our little house.  When she was originally built in 1882, my hometown was still developing.  We had a courthouse near our little house, so she would have been part of a small town of the times.  She was a Victorian farmhouse, built for a family.  

In the book, the city begins increasing and encroaching on the little house, and the same happened to our little house as the population and the town grew up around her.  Pretty soon, she is surrounded by buildings that blot out the sun, and she missed her country life of bygone days.  Our own little house was surrounded by traffic and buildings as well as she sat in one of the main thoroughfares of our still-small-but-not-as-small-as-she-used-to-be town .. . . 

Then the book reaches a major turning point, "Then one fine morning in Spring along came the great-great-granddaughter of the man who built the Little House so well.  She saw the shabby Little House, but she didn't hurry by.  There was something about the Little House that made her stop and look again."   When we found OUR little house, she was serving as a real estate office, and in fact, had so served throughout my years in high school.  Although I had been inside maybe once or twice, I think, that day after it was placed "for sale to be moved", just like the great-great-granddaughter, I saw something in the house that was special.

Then, in The Little House, the granddaughter and her husband inquire of the Movers if she could be moved.  They said, "Sure, this house is as good as ever.  She's built so well we could move her anywhere."  And the same was true for our little house as well.  So both houses were jacked up and put on wheels.  In the book, the Little House moves hours away.  In our case, it was only about 8 miles, but it was still quite the adventure!

The book ends with her re-establishing herself in the country, getting a facelift and enjoying her new quiet, peaceful life in the country.  She is painted a "lovely shade of pink."  We chose lavender instead :-)  And while it's been long in coming, and there is still much work to do for our little house to be everything she can be, I hope, like the Little House, she is smiling happily, watching the seasons come and go, being lived in and taken care of.

If you don't know this book, you are missing out on a classic. Yet, no matter how old the book or the house are, they still have an intrinsic value that in unparalleled and I am thankful to have the book -- and the house -- as a part of my life.


You can listen to a read aloud of the book here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7D-UnakYw7A

OR, you can 
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Purchase the book from your favorite independent bookstore, or  here:  https://www.amazon.com/Little-House-75th-Anniversary/dp/132874194X/ref=asc_df_132874194X/?tag=hyprod-20&linkCode=df0&hvadid=312680791333&hvpos=&hvnetw=g&hvrand=12870730653959576604&hvpone=&hvptwo=&hvqmt=&hvdev=c&hvdvcmdl=&hvlocint=&hvlocphy=9010090&hvtargid=pla-527476992433&psc=1&tag=&ref=&adgrpid=62255331975&hvpone=&hvptwo=&hvadid=312680791333&hvpos=&hvnetw=g&hvrand=12870730653959576604&hvqmt=&hvdev=c&hvdvcmdl=&hvlocint=&hvlocphy=9010090&hvtargid=pla-527476992433 

This was when they situated our house onto the lot on the farm. By this point, the roof had been restored, foundation was complete and we had pressure washed/scraped and were just getting ready to start painting. You can see a bit of the lavender on the upstairs dormer.

1992 -- the house we now call home was up for sale to be moved.  We had only been married 3 years.  Financially, we were struggling.  It was not the time to buy a house.  It was certainly not the time to buy a fixer-upper that had to be moved.  It was definitely not the time to buy a fixer-upper that had to be taken apart to be moved -- and then put back together.

However, as sure as we were in love with each other, we fell in love with this house.  Built in 1882, she was sturdy and full of character and beautiful architectural detail.  She had 2 floors and was being used for a real estate office.  She was just around the corner from the library where I was working.  Shane met me there during lunch maybe?  I honestly don't remember.  I do remember when I opened the door, I had visions of Christmas. . . .the door opens directly into the stairway and the living room, so when the door opened, I could see (in my mind's eye) -- beautiful garland cascading down the mahogany stair rail.  And as the stair wall angled to the left to carry one up, it left a beautiful angled wall that begged for a piano.  It was perfect (in my mind's eye. . .)  A huge kitchen and big bedrooms, a gorgeous room with a bay window would make a perfect library. . . .Shane was just as smitten as I was, and the cost?  A mere $2,000!!!!!!  This was the fodder of dreams! 

My parents came and looked at it and tried to talk us down with all the talk of hours of work and labor and hardship and idiosyncracies of old houses -- with the talk of cost of moving the house and putting it back together and so much more.  We were not to be talked down.  We were in love -- with each other, with the house and with the bright future that was waiting on us.  Young, naive, and idealistic -- yes, that was us.

Shane's aunt had us pegged to receive about a $20,000 inheritance when she died, and she was in her 90s at the time.  So dear Aunt Earle gave us our inheritance early so that we could purchase this home of our dreams.

Dreams became nightmares over the next 3 years as we strove -- largely unsuccessfully -- to put the house back in working order. They had to literally take their chainsaws and cut the whole upper half of the upstairs off.  They also used chainsaws to disconnect my kitchen from the rest of the house!  She was roofless and in pieces. . . . When they moved the house it was rainy season and the house literally bogged down in the field that would become our yard.  The corner of my sweet house sat jutted into the road for a few days until it dried enough to continue the move.  As a 2300 sq foot house, she was not designed as a mobile home, and she had already been moved once when she was a much younger house. We barely had enough money to purchase, move and get the roof back on the house.  We struggled over the next few years, making improvements as we could afford to -- which was negligible.  It was cold in the winter and hot in the summer.  There were so many challenges.

October will make 28 years ago that we bought this beautiful old home and made her ours.  The struggle has been so long and so real.  This spring brought the pandemic and stay at home orders.  It brought the cancellation of a few trips for us.  It brought stimulus checks.  It brought anxiety and stress, but it also brought forced time at home and extra money in our bank account.  So we have spent the Spring and Summer and all the money we didn't spend in gas and travel and eating out in addition to the stimulus money and we have gotten so much done.  It has felt so lovely and promising and this is the first time in 28 years that our upstairs will be a finished living space instead of unfinished storage.

There have been moments -- and hours and weeks and years when we wished we had done things differently.  There have been challenges right and left (You can read about some of them in my earlier post about keeping a level head).  It has been hard on levels that Mama and Daddy didn't even KNOW to tell us (in addition to all the ways they were right. . . .)  It is not the path most would have chosen. It has not been an easy path -- more like one of those winding, climbing mountain trails where you have to fight for every step and help each other along.  

There is still more work to be done.  It may very well NEVER be finished.  It will perhaps always be a WORK IN PROGRESS.  However, through it all, I think I still would have chosen just the same -- for all its unlevelness, idiosyncracies, character flaws, and challenges, I would still choose this sweet house that we have made into a home, because that is what LOVE does.  It chooses -- over and again -- in spite of difficulty -- in spite of hardship.  It chooses to love every day in spite of it all.

This summer and the Covid-19 pandemic have given us opportunity and funds to delve into much-needed home improvements.  For those of you who may not know, we live in a house built in 1882 and moved twice (quite a feat for a 2-story, 2300-sq. foot house).  She is not exactly a mobile home, so the two moves have taken their toll on her. . . .and now, she's a bit -- unbalanced . . . unlevel.  When you are in the midst of home renovations, this brings some (ahem) UNIQUE challenges.   My husband has stepped up to every challenge with bravery, math skills, growing carpentry/DIY capability -- and he has done some amazing work in less-than-ideal circumstances!   Whew, but there have been moments. . . .have you ever been there?  Maybe not with home improvements. . . maybe in life. . . suddenly, things are unbalanced, unlevel, not right and not easily fixed?  How do you handle that?  Now, listen -- no judgements here, because the truth is -- those are hard times!  And we're very human in our house . . .maybe yours, too? 

Sometimes, Shane has been upstairs working while I was writing or on a webinar and I would hear growls, choice words, or the slamming of whatever carpentry project he was working on with a bit of extra power and vehemence. . . We don't always handle those unlevel challenges well.  We want the corners of our life to match up.  We want all the parts to match where they are supposed to. We don't want our holes exposed.  We don't want anyone to see we are unbalanced. We want to be able to put the level or the plumb line to our life and see the bubble in the middle of the window.  Unfortunately, oftentimes life isn't like that at all.  That bubble bumps the right end of the window or the left!  Sometimes there's a big 'ol gap in the corner that you're going to have to do some extra work to fix.  And sometimes, there are problems that happened WAY BEFORE you that YOU CAN'T FIX!  (Anybody ever heard of Adam and Eve?  Hello!)  Some of these house issues were not created by us and we can't fix them all!  Some of them we simply have to live with or work around. 

The scriptures give us some great tips for handling life when it gets unbalanced. Jesus tells the parable of the wise man and the foolish man who were building a house.  His message? 
1.  Make sure you have a good foundation!  That is the first really important thing.  What are you building your life on?  I Corinthians 3 says it this way (Message translation)  Or, to put it another way, you are God’s house. Using the gift God gave me as a good architect, I designed blueprints; Apollos is putting up the walls. Let each carpenter who comes on the job take care to build on the foundation! Remember, there is only one foundation, the one already laid: Jesus Christ. Take particular care in picking out your building materials. Eventually there is going to be an inspection. If you use cheap or inferior materials, you’ll be found out. The inspection will be thorough and rigorous. You won’t get by with a thing. If your work passes inspection, fine; if it doesn’t, your part of the building will be torn out and started over. But you won’t be torn out; you’ll survive—but just barely.
Psalm 127:1 (NIV) 
Unless the Lord builds the house, the builders labor in vain. Unless the Lord watches over the city, the guards stand watch in vain.


2.  Look to God and Jesus when things are unbalanced and unlevel.
Hebrews 12: 1b and 2a  And let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us, 2 fixing our eyes on Jesus, the pioneer and perfecter of faith.Psalm 1211 I look up to the mountains--
    does my help come from there?
2 My help comes from the Lord,
    who made heaven and earth!

The psalmist wasn't always so confident.  There are laments throughout the book of Psalms.  There were times of doubt.  There were times of struggle.  There were times he couldn't fix whatever issue he was facing.  Somedays he railed at God.  My friends, God is big enough for that, too, and NOTHING you say or do catches God by surprise.  He loves you NO MATTER WHAT, but His desire is to help you achieve your best -- to be the best version of yourself.  He wants to build you into a Mansion -- if you'll let Him.

Sometimes, others have harmed us until we are so unlevel and unbalanced we are unrecognizable.  Sometimes, we've made bad choices that have turned our life topsy-turvy, left holes in the drywall, tiles missing, ceiling boards drooping, water damage. . . .luckily, our Savior was a carpenter :-)  He knows all the tricks of the trade and if you surrender to Him, he can begin making those changes to help you shine -- He's got the joint compound to fill in the holes. He's got the sandpaper to smooth the rough edges.  The nails that put Him on the cross can put you back together in His hands.

If you're feeling unlevel and unbalanced, I urge you to cry out to Him.  Build your life on Him and fix your eyes on Him.  The Master Carpenter, the Creator of the Universe can build you up into everything HE knows you can be.

We've surrendered, but that doesn't mean all the days are rosy and perfect.  We still find those unbalanced places, those unlevel spaces -- in our house -- and in our heart.  And when we do, we have to surrender all over again. We have to do our part and allow Him to do His part.  It's a journey -- much like renovating an old house.  It will always be a work in progress.

Proverbs 17: 22 A cheerful heart is good medicine,
    but a broken spirit saps a person’s strength.

My parents have had a difficult couple of weeks. 

Daddy is one of the most loving, kind, patient, and dear men I've ever known (and no, I'm not biased -- but, even if I were, the truth of it remains :-)  He tends to get a little down in the dumps when things are continually hard.  There's a situation that really  tears at him, and he had a couple of extra-challenging days recently, so he's been a little grumpy and negative lately.  This is hard for us to watch when he has been the positive-thinking guru of our family for my whole life.

Today, my family sat down to a game of Mexican Train (dominos game).  It was light-hearted from the get-go.  My niece, who is 9, pushed the train whistle every time she played a double and did a little dance.  Pretty soon, we were all doing it, including the little dance -- even my husband, who is super-tired from tons of home renovations and day after day of long, hard work -- even my mom who is 74 with COPD and congestive heart failure and is on oxygen 24-7 -- even my dad who is 77 and feeling extra grumpy. . . we all danced and listened to the train whistle and "chugga, chugga, choo, choo" as we played. Laughter rang out in the dining room of my parents' home.

We got into a conversation about how my mom is a bit obsessed with killing mosquitoes (or other insects) and were joking about how Mama will look at you with a very serious expression and say, "Don't move" and we all hold our breath because we know she is getting ready to smack us to kill whatever beastly insect is nipping and nibbling at us.  We all dread the look, the tone -- and if she ever gets the fly swatter?  Look out!  Daddy was laughing and teasing her about how he thinks sometimes she just pretends there's a mosquito so she can smack us :-O  A few minutes later, we look at my daddy and he is just snickering big-time.  We looked at him quizzically and he explained that the conversation got him thinking about his favorite movie -- HOME ALONE. (We watch it every Christmas -- but really we watch my daddy watch it because he laughs so hard and it brings us such joy!)  If you've seen it, you know the scene where the spider is loose in the house and is perched on "Marv"'s chest. and Harry says, "Don't move. . . " just before he whacks his chest with a crowbar to kill the spider. . . .well, Daddy made the comparison with my mom and her, "Don't move" and it turned his giggle box completely upside down!  He laughed until tears were streaming down his face, and he could only get out a few words here and there because he was laughing so hard.  My niece made out a reference to Home Alone in the chaos, and Daddy laughed harder.  We made out "spider" and "Marv" and "don't move" and pretty soon we were all laughing uproariously. . . ..  This isn't really that unusual for my sister and me -- or for the kids.  Even Shane (hubby) and I have moments.  But for my whole family (minus one) to be sitting around the table laughing so hard is such a precious moment.  Mama laughed so hard she could barely breathe even with her oxygen pumping. . .she declared, "No more laughing.  I'm going to be so sore now . . . ." and we tried to comply, but it just ended with more giggles, more giggles, and more giggles.  Eventually, we settled back into a mode of fun, but not TOO much fun.  The laughter subsided for the most part.

Hard days will come.  Grumpiness won't go away forever.  Grief will visit -- unwanted.  Life will intervene -- unwelcome.  Satan will throw darts -- uninvited.  But laughter is both weapon and balm. 

Days are tenuous.  Mama's health is tenuous.  Life is tenuous.  Age is tenuous.  Laughter is so, so good for the soul.  I am incredibly thankful for today, and I pray that when grief comes and hard days knock on the door of my heart, that I can think back on this day and remember a day of laughter and utter joy -- to extreme.  What an incredible blessing today was, and I hope that God will call it back to my memory as often as I need to be reminded:
22 A cheerful heart is good medicine,
    but a broken spirit saps a person’s strength.

I wrote this piece a few years ago, but it is so apropos, I thought I'd share it here again. I wish I had taken a picture that day -- all the different sand formations were so beautiful -- and so different.  Whatever the sands of your life look like right now, my prayer is that He will create a masterpiece. 

​Today Shane and I walked on the beach at Cherry Grove. We were all the way at the end where the inlet and the ocean meet. It was low tide, so there was lots of room to walk. For a while the sand was dry and bleached perfectly white and it had smooth flowing waves. Then we got to an area that was hard, smooth and damp. Around a tidal pool, there was an area of sand that was heavily ridged. Along the edges of another tidal pool, the edges had a terraced look -- layers and layers of sand, slightly graduated. In some areas, the water had cut deep canyons into the sand. Other areas had shallow rivulets flowing. One area looked pithy, like a pumice stone with millions of tiny holes. Some areas had gentle depressions, as if someone had raked their fingers through the dampened sand. So I began to think of fingers on the sandy shore of our lives. I thought of how God sometimes allows us to hang loose and free -- natural and flowing. Sometimes he allows the rivers to carve canyons in our souls to develop our character or to help us appreciate the blessings we have or to have a feeling of empathy for others with canyons carved in their souls. Sometimes we find ourselves full of tiny holes, soaking up all the positive and negative life has to offer. Sometimes our lives are flat and smooth with very little chaos, and sometimes chaos produces heavy ridges -- ups and downs, some wet with tears, others dry and thirsty. As God dips his fingers into our lives, we have to trust -- even when he refrains from dipping his fingers into the landscape of our lives. We have to trust that if he created the oceans and the tides and the tidal pools and all the configurations the same sand can create under his craftsmanship, then certainly our lives will be no less beautiful. Whatever his fingers are doing or not doing in your life, step back, take a look at the artistic piece he's composing, and if you don't like what you see, have a conversation with the sculptor and then watch and see what your life becomes.