Dear Quarantine Diary – Week #8

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covid-19 diary, covid-19 humour, dear diary, faith, friends, humour, loss

Dear Diary -I stood on the bathroom scales this week and it says I”ve gained weight. There goes my theory that my clothes were shrinking in the closet and dresser drawers. Afterall, I haven’t worn most of them for a year. I don’t think the scale is broken, but if it isn’t kinder next time, it will be!

Dear Diary – On Saturday, Hubby and I watched an episode of Home Town, which I PVR when there’s a free preview. I love this young, sweet couple and their devotion to restore a house and build a home. They also salvage, re-purpose and work within a budget! All good stuff!

Hubby started looking at real estate and found the PERFECT place for us, only 10 minutes from my folks. I have always dreamed of living in one of the many limestone or red brick farm houses in and around my small town. So it’s not wonder we fell deeply in love with a gorgeous restored old limestone church. This beautiful home was obviously a labour of love. They retained the beautiful woodwork, the tower, the arches, the stained glass windows. Every detail enhances its natural beauty. I love the soaker tub next to an arched window, and the French door leading from the main floor master bedroom to a 3 season room. I love the fire pit. I love the custom wrought iron gate. I love the country landscape and I could learn to live with the pool. And if we sold our house at the top end in the current market, we could probably afford it, mortgage-free. We’d have a house but no income, and we’d lose it all.

Instead, we’ll just let our hovel house here, be our home.

Home is a comfort and home is a light, a place to leave the darkness outside
Home is a peaceful and ever full feeling, a place where the soul safely hides

Michael Card, Home

Dear Diary – I excused myself to use the “ladies’ room”, then muttered mockingly under my breath, “why are you using it? You’re no lady”. Little Guy burst out laughing. “Good one,” he said, “I was just thinking, we all use it so does that mean you think we’re all ladies?”.

Dear Diary – It’s always wonderful to find out you are memorable! I don’t think that’s happened to me before. I went to my 12 year old eye doctor this week, and he remembered that I play Overwatch. He remembered the D’Va text notication on my cell phone. He also remembered a 30 second conversation we had last year when I accosted him in the parking lot to ask what characters he played. I guess it’s true of gamers –

The bond we have is much deeper than the game we play.

Patrick Willis

Dear Diary – My parents read about the perfect cat for me. I would love, love, love to get a cat who is past the crazy kitten stage and loves to cuddle. But Hubby hates cats. Just to see their reaction, I told the boys about Moustache anyway. I mentioned that he needed a home with no other pets and no small children. Little Guy piped up, “then what are we going to do about you…small child?”

I get it! I’m short!

Dear Diary – Once in awhile I have to waste energy doing housework. I started cleaning out under the bathroom sink and found 5 bottles of men’s body wash. So, for the foreseeable future, I’m going to smell like a man. One day I’ll smell like a forest, the next an Irish spring. And how, exactly, does an icy mist smell? I just hope those Axe commercials aren’t accurate and I get swarmed with hot women every time I leave the house.

It all balances out too. Hubby is starting to smell like a woman. He’s been using my hand lotion, and a cloud of shea butter follows him everywhere!

Dear Diary – My dear friend of almost 30 years died this week. She was diagnosed with cancer barely 3 months ago.

I met Suzanne in college & careers and we instantly bonded. When she moved away 2 years later, we kept in touch, writing looong letters. Those letters allowed us to prayerfully carry each other through some very dark times in our lives.We lost touch a couple of years ago, then out of the blue, she sent me a message asking me to pray. That message was followed by a handwritten letter, scanned and emailed to me. The best way to connect the new and the old! She had drifted from the Lord and He had woken her up. We picked up right where we had left off.

She was the special kind of friend that I could share anything with, without fear or shame. She loved me when I was most vulnerable and I always knew my heart was safe with her. I am so thankful for the assurance that she is safely in the Father’s arms now, and our friendship will never be over. I loved her so much and miss her terribly already.

June 29, 1996

And friends are friends forever if the Lord’s the Lord of them
And a friend will not say never ’cause the welcome will not end
Though it’s hard to let you go in the Father’s hands we know
That a lifetime’s not too long to live as friends

Michael W. Smith, Friends

Writing Letters

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faith, family, letters, stamping, writing

It’s true – the art of writing letters is slowly becoming a lost art. Who has the time to put thought on paper (once you find some paper)? Then you have to find an address, a stamp and even a mailbox! Sometimes it is just easier to send a quick text or post a quick message on Facebook. I get that! I’m guilty of doing it too.

But once upon a time, I used to write a lot of letters. Hubby and I started our relationship on paper. He was a poor student in another city and phone calls cost money! I wrote crazy stories with small-town caracatures to a homesick friend studying in the city. When our worlds seemed to be crashing down around us, another friend and I encouraged each other by sharing prayers and scripture. Baring our broken hearts to each other, we helped each other breathe in the darkness, until the sun started shining again.

Though housebound during covid, I once again have time to write and have re-discovered the pleasure in putting pen to paper. And for good reason:

Letters are more personal because they contain my effort, my time, and my handwriting. Those notes are often in or tucked into one of my handmade cards, made or chosen with that person in mind. My hope is that I will lift their spirits, and as I work, mine is lifted as well.

They take more time, which means I am more careful as I consider each word and phrase. I can extinguish inflammatory words before I create firenados. With my emotions in check, I am less likely to discourage, hurt, or offend the reader. And when I share my emotions or concerns, I can be concise, sharing the whole story without interruptions and distractions, and leaving other “cans of worms” unopened.

Letters can be read and re-read by the recipient. It gives them time to consider their response, if one is needed. It limits the number of folks who may feel they have a right to weigh in with their opinion or share their story. But most importantly, it may be something that the reader needs to read again and again, a reminder that they are special and they are loved.

Let us all then leave behind letter of love and friendship, family and devotion, hope and consolation, so that the future generations will know what we valued and believed and achieved.

Marian Wright Edelman

Dear Quarantine Diary – Week #3

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covid-19 diary, covid-19 humour, dear diary, faith, humour, sewing, shopping

Dear Diary – I saw the mailman walk by the house this morning. That’s enough social interaction for today.

Dear Diary – A “state of emergency” was declared as of last Thursday but with the exception of school closures, everything pretty much functions as before. We’re supposed to stay home except for “essentials”: medical appointments, grocery and pharmacy pick up, and walks around the block. Arguably, essential means different things to different people. Here was my conundrum: Michael’s, a craft boxstore, is still open, for curbside pick up or delivery, and I’m in need of “spring” fabric. I had planned a trip to Fabricland in January but it is closed. Some would argue that it’s essential I leave home to buy fabric for my business. Others could argue that my business isn’t feeding my family, and therefore isn’t essential. The same argument can apply to furniture stores, home reno stores, etc. In reality, our restrictions are less severe than last March, although Covid is rampant in our province. What do I do?

I’ve ranted before about the disadvantages of online shopping, and fabric is a small market. Thumbnail photos don’t accurately reflect the product. I spent 5 hours on Friday sourcing fabric to stretch my bucks! In addition to colour and print, I had to consider cost, shipping dates, and measurements. There was no standard means of measuring – I had to calculate cost per metre based on inches, yards, centimeters, and feet. Math…no pressure!

Source: trenchcoatsoft.com

I ordered from Michael’s first, swallowing the $15 delivery charge. Then I ordered from Wal-Mart, which had free shipping…but is shipping each fabric swatch… one. at. a. time. Yesterday I received 3 tiny packages of elastic in a large envelope that was so well taped, I got my 20 minute work-out!

The first package arrived 4 days early, sometime after 8 p.m. I picked up the “Your package has been delivered” after 11 p.m. No one had knocked and I was already in bed but I didn’t want it stolen. Anyone who up to no good in my neighbourhood Monday night, I’m sorry I scared you. I had to turn on the porch light to find the package, and I was too lazy to get dressed first. It’s rather chilly outside for a t-shirt and panties.

Normally I’m a flannel-kinda gal. But lately, the dying inferno of my youth has re-ignited, and I’m waking on fire, several times in the night! I would love a smoking hot body, but this is not what I had in mind. I am developing 2 temperature settings – hypothermia and hades! The blankets are on and off, like a cat in the middle of whatever you are doing. Legs in – too hot! Legs out – too cold! One leg out – worried monster under the bed will eat one leg. When will the madness end?

There’s hope, however. The weatherman has predicted an arctic vortex heading our way. He’s afraid for his life, but I’m wondering if it be a life-saver, providing the optimal sleeping temperature.

I don’t think these fellows will mind.

Dear Diary – The sky is gray and it looks like it should be snowing. I know evening will soon be upon us, and I welcome the darkness. It’s like a heavy blanket wrapped around our home, soft and warm, inviting. I should be writing, or sewing, or doing something useful, not just sitting here idly watching the giant pine tree outside the window. The branches are frantically waving at me in the wind. I know it’s a cold wind that bites through winter clothing, and swirls menacingly around the edges. I was outside earlier, and I was happy to be come home.

I feel like those branches, my thoughts constantly moving and my focus swirling about, but I never really get anywhere. I sense frustration creeping in around the edges, and I have to remind myself: patience. Just as I can’t see the wind, I see movement and know it is there. Just as I can’t see Him, I know God is moving and He is there. Not everything is about the destination; it’s also about the journey.

You take a chance every day – getting up in the morning, crossing the street, or sticking your face in a fan.

Lt. Frank Drebin, The Naked Gun

Sweetness & Light

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baking, disasters, faith, food, food photography, macro photography, musings, tea, tea cups

I was just reflecting this morning, how our attitudes and circumstances, when reframed and brought out into the light, can actually become something beautiful. Take my disastrous macarons, for example. While they are cracked and dry, and lack colour, a little raspberry buttercream softens the appearance, and makes them a sweet treat. I survived the experience, and I now have an opportunity to learn from my mistakes. And an opportunity to try again.

Maybe even to do better.

All of the experiences in my life have done the same. Sure, my heart bears many scars. Some of my own making. But reframed in the light of God’s love and care, there is beauty too. God softens and moulds the rough places. He adds sweetness. He has helped me survive, and learn, and grow. He has forgiven me, so I can try again.

Maybe even do better.

So I’m wishing you a week filled with sweetness and light…and plenty of tea!

You may think your light is small, but it can make a huge difference in other people’s lives

– Anonymous

2021 in a Word

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faith, worship

Today, my talented friend, Marian Beaman, summed up her word for 2020, Beauty, before she shared her word for 2021: Beyond. Instead of focusing on what 2020 wasn’t, she masterfully looked at what it was. I encourage you to read it, for I believe there is always beauty if one chooses to look.

It’s about perspective.

Last year, I started the year with enthusiasm. Having quit my job two months earlier, I felt I was running toward something new and wonderful. A new job? Ministry opportunity? Wherever it was, I was running forward. I latched onto the concept of running with intensity, choosing “Finish line” as my “word of the year”. I even had a theme song.

Do you not know that in a race all the runners run, but only one gets the prize?
Run in such a way as to get the prize.

Corinthians 9:24

I spent the better part of January grieving for my job, and feeling a little lost. It’s hard to run when you’re heart is in your throat.

I began February strong, until the rug was pulled out from underneath me, and I ended up flat on my face. I crawled into God’s lap so He could hold me, and we fought fear in the dark.

In March, Covid hit and the lockdowns began.

Instead of running toward a finish line, I seemed to spend more time just sitting still. In retrospect though, I was running. I was just running to God. I ran to Him with hurts, large and small. I ran to Him with fears and insecurities, needs, questions (so many questions)! Sometimes I ran to Him because it was the sweetest place to be. I knew there was joy and peace, and beauty to sustain even the longest days.

Last Fall, I joined a Zoom Bible study, and I look forward to it resuming next week, even though it means daily homework. (Bonus: I get to see my Mom online!) This week, as I pondered my “word” for the week, the only one that came to mind was “lost”. Probably it was the best word to describe how I felt, but it isn’t the right word. I know that.

I started my homework for the study yesterday. It began in 1 Kings 9. King Solomon had completed his commission to build the Temple and his palace in Jerusalem. It took him 20 years. Perhaps after spending so many years focusing on such a great undertaking, King Solomon felt a little lost too.

There were a number of reasons that I felt it was time to leave my job, a job I loved. One of the reasons that I remained so long was that I had been given a commission, and I remained until its completion. I’m thankful it didn’t take 20 years.

Then God spoke to him, reminding him of the promise God had made 20 years earlier, if Solomon remained faithful and obedient.

Faithful ˈfāth-fəl
1. Steadfast in affection or allegiance; loyal
2: firm in adherence to promises or in observance of duty; conscientious
3: given with strong assurance; binding
4: true to the facts, to a standard, or to an original

merriam-webster.com

Solomon was never given such a large undertaking again. Instead, He lived His remaining days ruling His kingdom faithfully and wisely, according to God’s statutes. Perhaps 2021 will be filled with new opportunities and adventures. Or maybe just more challenges. Or perhaps nothing spectacular at all. My kingdom is small. My impact on the world is small. And I have no idea what I’m supposed to be doing, but I know who I am called to be: faithful.

It’s a very good word.

And there’s a loyalty that’s deeper than mere sentiments
And a music higher than the songs that I can sing
The stuff of Earth competes for the allegiance
I owe only to the Giver of all good things

So if I stand let me stand on the promise that you will pull me through
And if I can’t, let me fall on the grace that first brought me to You

Rich Mullins, If I Stand

Dear Quarantine Diary #38 – Part 1

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Christmas, covid-19 diary, dear diary, faith

This week I’ve felt like I’m a roller coaster. Difficult decisions were made and plans rearranged. Every day seemed filled with new changes and challenges. There has been heartache, and hard work, and more nights falling asleep on damp pillows, than not.

This pandemic has done more than interrupt my routine. It has toyed with my emotions, broken my sleep, and stolen my joy.

Everything is topsy-turvy, and while I’ve come to enjoy some “adventure” in my life, I’m still so much happier riding the Merry-Go-Round than a Roller Coaster.

On Saturday I went for a walk in the snow. It was large, fluffy flakes coming straight down, the kind that piles up on your hat and sticks in your braids. The streets were empty and it was crisp and peaceful. It gave my mind time away from the running to-do list and the ache in my heart as I wrestled between rocks and hard places.

It gave space for God to speak…and for me to listen.

God reminded me of another woman whose life was interrupted.

Mary was an ordinary girl dreaming of her husband, her home, and babies. Then she was visited by an angel with an incomprehendable request. Her love for and trust in God made it easy to answer, but it came at a cost. It didn’t always seem fair. There was probably a whole gammet of emotions. And the future held so many unknowns.

The circumstances around that first Christmas weren’t “normal” or perfect. God’s plan for salvation, from the beginning of time, arrived in a barn on a cold, dark night, to a young couple far from the comforts of home and family.

Immanuel – God With Us.

Life is interrupted, but God is still moving.

Life is interrupted, but love and joy, and wonder still exist.

Little about this Christmas is normal or perfect either. The tree, the lights, the gifts, the goodies – even the time with family – may all be part of the celebrations, but they aren’t the most important parts of Christmas. It’s a time, like Mary and Joseph, and the Shepherds, to look into the face of God and worship. It’s time to acknowledge our need and His presence in our mixed-up, messy lives. I needed that reminder.

O come, all ye faithful…come and behold Him
Born the King of angels
O come, let us adore Him, Christ the Lord.

Friday’s Tune: Resting Place

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faith, Friday's Tune, music

It was the Sunday following the attacks on September 11th, and I was still trying to wrap my mind around it. So we gathered as a congregation, clustered en masse at the altar, praying and worshipping. It was the first time I heard this song taken from Isaiah 66:1-2.

And as I sang, in the midst of the fear and confusion, God whispered in my ear…”Heaven is my throne and earth is my footstool”. What a mental picture! The God of the Universe is so much greater and stronger that this planet is a small piece of furniture in comparison. He is not a God who stays at a distance, but One who saw each tear and heard each cry that day, and this day. I could trust that He would hear us in the days ahead, and I could trust Him, God of the Angel Armies, to keep us safe.  I don’t ever need to be afraid.

Happy Weekend!

Lyrics         Youtube

Daphne Rademaker (c) 1991 Mercy / Vineyard Publishing (Admin. by Capitol CMG Publishing (Integrity Music, David C Cook)) Vineyard Songs Canada (Admin. by Capitol CMG Publishing (Integrity Music, David C Cook))

 

Friday’s Tune: Turn Your Eyes

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faith, Friday's Tune, hymns, music

Today’s tune is a surprise, even to me. It’s been a tough week, and this old hymn, first published in 1918 by Helen Lemell, has been an anchor. I can remember singing it as a kid and being confused by the line “and the things of earth will grow strangely dim”. How could the things around me, the trees, my house, my toys, just fade? I knew it wasn’t by magic; I knew about miracles and Jesus’ power. Was it like drifting off to sleep?

As I’ve grown older, I have understood the deeper meaning. That when I take my eyes off Jesus and focus instead on the things the world values, I lose intimacy in my relationship with Christ. I become proud and arrogant, going my own way, being swayed by “fine-sounding arguments”. I get beaten up and overwhelmed. I lose sight of Who I am to follow and to Whom I belong. I become no longer who I was made to be, and to serve as I’ve been called to serve.

But if I focus on Jesus only, the opinions, the conspiracies, the craziness of the world will fade away. I can have lasting peace and joy. Don’t get the wrong impression. I’m not a naive, “airy-fairy, ignore-it-and-it-will-go-away” person. I am not living in fear. I am not afraid to speak up, in love. I hope I am wise enough to know when to shut up. I have a choice in Who and what I listen to, and I choose Jesus.

May I never boast except in the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ, through which the world has been crucified to me, and I to the world. Gal. 6:14

Friday’s Tune: In the Silence

Tags

faith, music, poem

I haven’t shared a Friday’s tune in a few weeks, but it isn’t because I haven’t been singing! Sometimes it’s better to take a break from writing, than to force it and lose joy in the process. 🙂

I hesitated to write today. Sharing something you wrote requires a degree of vulnerability and this song is one I wrote. It’s so easy to let the opinions of others steal your joy or crush your soul. But I have been singing this all week.

I have been frustrated by the on-going opinions and “theories” related to Covid-19. In particular, those restrictions that are viewed as restriction of rights. I believe some of the restrictions are necessary to protect one another in love, and are for a season. I get tired of “entitled” people spewing poison and creating conflict. Some just for the sick pleasure of doing so.

Worship, especially music through worship, is important to me. I can’t imagine attending a church service without singing because that is one of the greatest forms of expression, for me. But if I’m asked to refrain for a season, then I will. I will sing in my heart when I’m in public, and I will sing with all the breath in my lungs when I’m at home (or in the car)! You’ve been warned! 🙂

It might have been on my mind Saturday night as I slept. I had my frequent Saturday night nightmare. I am panicking!! I’m late for church, I’m leading, and my sheet music has vanished. I’m supposed to provide the offertory as well. Just me. So as we rushed out the door to get to the church (this time I wasn’t even in the building yet), I started to write a song…and I woke up with the first 2 lines still in head.

I’m not a morning person. It was 6 a.m. and my eyes were still heavy with sleep. But I rolled out and foraged in the dark for a notepad and pen…

If there’s no music, then I will worship in the silence
I will soak in the reverence of Your majesty
And in the silence, I will glory in Your splendour
I will wonder at Your depths of love for me.

If there’s no music, then I will worship in the silence
I will whisper the name of Jesus, He is King
And in the silence, I will praise You for Your goodness,
I will marvel at Your depths of grace to me.

In the quiet, when I’m trusting You
You are my strength, my joy
In the quiet, I hear You calling me
I know Your voice
My heart and soul will always sing to You

If there’s no music, I will worship in the silence
I will wonder at Your mercy, how You lifted me to stand
In the silence, I will tell You how I love You
How much I need You in the silence, make me whole
I am Yours

(c) Jenn Simpson, August 23, 2020

Friday’s Tune: Raise a Hallelujah

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faith, Friday's Tune, photography, sunsets

Some days we just have to trust a little harder, pray a little longer and sing a little louder. The King is Alive!

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Happy Friday!

Jake Stevens | Jonathan David Helser | Melissa Helser | Molly Skaggs (c) 2018 Bethel Music Publishing