Good Monday morning to you all! And to a couple of you, good Monday afternoon! And to one of you, good Monday night!

I was up early this morning and was so taken by the brilliant sunrise. We’ve had several of them lately. This was taken from our dining room around 6:00 a.m. Just beneath the dark pink colors is Lake Superior. (Click to enlarge if you like.)

Our eleven year-old Schnauzer Edith has been ailing slightly, so I took her to the vet this morning after breakfasts were served and our Fosters departed for their jobs. Edith has one bloodshot eye, and she’s also been licking spots on her upper arm, her paw, and her belly. We’ve put her in The Cone of Shame for a couple of weeks now, to help let the raw spots heal, but as soon as they did and we removed the cone from her collar, back she went to worrying those areas.

The vet found two tiny old-dog growths on each eyelid which are probably irritating the surface of her eye, and they need to be surgically removed. To the tune of $700 (or £437). Yikes. He checked her very carefully and did not think she has fleas (thank the Lord), but instead feels she has developed seasonal allergies. We will try a little Benadryl to give her relief, and wait for snow. If the snow clears everything up, we’ll know the vet was right about allergies. And even though he didn’t think this was necessary, I did buy some new food for her with no carbs in it, and lots of good protein and vegetables. The dogs’ food has been high quality but does have brown rice in it, so we’ll see if the new stuff makes a difference.

Today, like most Mondays, I have piles of paperwork to do. Reports to mail, checkbook registers to balance and statements to reconcile for our Fosters, laundry, dinner to conjure (ha – wish I could!), bills to pay and my CBS lesson to finish, but not necessarily in that order.

Last weekend I had a couple of free hours and decided to go see a movie. Michael wasn’t up to it, so I went alone and ate some Butterfinger Bites while watching the armrest-gripping movie Gravity. You can see the trailer here. I liked the movie a lot, but it was intense and I would have liked the ending to be a little different. I could also see why some people would hate a movie like this — it wasn’t what you’d call relaxing entertainment.

Yesterday morning when we got up, we came into the dining room and kitchen area to see that Sara had brought up our bin of various pieces of fall decor, and festooned the mantel with a few things.

The pumpkin at the far end plugs in and glows in the dark. Its lights slowly change from green to yellow to orange to purple, and our grandchildren have always loved it.

I am 18 weeks post-op from my knee replacement surgery and coming along. My range of motion has gone up to 115 degrees a few times, and my PTs tell me that 120 degrees is what they see most often when a patient finishes PT, so I’m encouraged by that. I’ll wait until I am 52 weeks post-op to fully decide how satisfied I am with my decision for surgery. There are many pluses already — no more grinding arthritis pain, no splaying deformity, no deep, throbbing ache that wakes me up at night. But there are challenges with this major surgery too. Whew.

Last week Michael and I took a drive up the north shore of Lake Superior, to see the fall colors before they fade and winter sets in. We drove as far north as Gooseberry Falls, and we both said to each other how we never tire of the beautiful north shore drive.

Michael’s health continues to falter and some days I confess I’m not sure what I will do. I’ve been asked, “What are you going to do when Michael can’t walk anymore?” and I say, “I don’t know.” I’ve always been someone who’s task oriented and can look ahead and make decisions about whatever is needed, but not with Michael and the Parkinson’s disease which has robbed so much from him. My friend Shari reminded me that perhaps a call to a social worker is in order, and I might do that soon, just to see if there are some home options for us. It’s not like I can’t take care of him right now. I can. But watching him walk is heart breaking. He used to festinate a couple of times a day (it’s the odd, rapid shuffling advanced PD patients do) and now he does it constantly. I am hoping that he’ll be willing and able to use a walker soon, but so far that hasn’t happened. He has daily confusion as the Parkinson’s dementia makes itself known. He also can’t cut up his food anymore and doesn’t seem to see the need either. So when I intervene and say, “Here, let me cut that up for you,” he’s sometimes fine with that, and sometimes he resists. I think I’ll just try cutting up his food before I serve it to him. That was sort of a duh moment, eh?

I know that Michael looks to me as his everything, and sometimes that’s very touching, and sometimes it can feel a bit smothering too. It hasn’t gotten to the point where he can’t be alone for a couple of hours (as in Tuesday mornings when I go to Community Bible Study), but I can tell he feels a big, relief-filled exhale when I walk in that door. He thinks I’m his glue, his anchor, his protector, the one who will make sure everything goes okay. And most of the time I just realize that this is the way things are, and I go with it. I ask God to help me and He does. I love my husband and remember all that he has been to me, to our family, and I give to him because it’s what spouses do. But I have my days. I descend into self-pity and tears every few weeks, and have just accepted that it’s not the end of the world if I do. I go to our bedroom and cry, and feel sorry for myself because no one is looking after my interests and comfort like I look after those in my home. I can do the martyr thing pretty well. But then after I blow my nose and stop sniveling, I start to recount the blessings I have. It sounds so trite to say “count your blessings,” but powerful things often do sound trite and simplistic.

We’re studying Daniel, Job and 1 and 2 Peter in CBS this year, and we began with Daniel. I’m in a core group of 15 varied and wonderful women, and am challenged and encouraged by our study and discussion. I’ve read Daniel before, but this time I’m struck by how awful it must have been for young Daniel and his friends to be literally kidnapped from their homes and families and marched hundreds of miles to Babylon in the exile. I can certainly see that Daniel, Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego weren’t whining about the horrible turn their lives had taken. They decided to love and serve their God more than anything else, even life and comfort. When faced with compromise or the prospect of a torturous death, they chose death. They lived humbly and confidently in the face of King Nebuchadnezzar’s maniacal anger and arrogance. When trouble came, Daniel and his friends grew alarmed (I was so glad to read that!), then began to thank God, recount His past faithfulness, and plead with Him in prayer. And God was faithful to them in miraculous ways, even though the miracles He did on their behalf didn’t really make them tra-la-la happy and comfortable. To our knowledge, Daniel never got to return home to Israel. He died in Babylon an old man, having served his God faithfully his whole, difficult life. We’re only in chapter four, but already I’m asking God to help me apply what I’m learning. When I’m alarmed (or overwhelmed or frustrated or exhausted), I’m so glad to know it’s okay. But then I’m trying to remember to begin thanking God for who He is, and for His faithfulness to me for 56 years. He saved my fourteen year-old life when I was almost dead in an emergency room. He has forgiven so much! And then, I pray. I’m still learning about this one. Prayer is such a mystery to me. I think it’s simple, but then I don’t get it. I get it, and then I think it’s really hard. I’m all over the place with prayer, but I’m still praying.

I guess this is enough for today. After I get to my aforementioned tasks, I need to go be an anchor and some glue for someone waiting for me in the living room.

I know who our glue and anchor and deliverer and protection really is…I know you do too.

Jesus, we look to you….

I’m still working on the fairly long post about my recent trip to Seattle and Bainbridge Island with my friend Denel. There are lots of photos to size and arrange, and I hope to get that up soon.

In the meantime, we rearranged the furniture in our bedroom and I thought I’d share how it looks. We’ve never had the bed under the front windows before, but I’m beginning to like it! You can click to enlarge these if you like.

I’ve always liked how changing the placement of a few things in a room makes it feel new, when nothing in it really is.

And of course there should always be at least one cardinal in every room.

Have a wonderful day!

“God’s definition of what matters is pretty straightforward. He measures our lives by how we love.”   ~~Francis Chan

These are four of my eight precious grandchildren — Mr. McBoy (11), Mrs. Nisky (9), Li’l Gleegirl (6) and Baby Shamrock (15 months). If my life is measured by how I love them, I’m probably okay. But if my life is measured, as Francis Chan says above, by how I love everyone, then I’m doomed, at least without the thousands of mercies I need from the Lord each morning.

If I speak with human eloquence and angelic ecstasy but don’t love, I’m nothing but the creaking of a rusty gate.

If I speak God’s Word with power, revealing all his mysteries and making everything plain as day, and if I have faith that says to a mountain, “Jump,” and it jumps, but I don’t love, I’m nothing.

If I give everything I own to the poor and even go to the stake to be burned as a martyr, but I don’t love, I’ve gotten nowhere. So, no matter what I say, what I believe, and what I do, I’m bankrupt without love.

Love never dies.

1 Corinthians 13:1-8, The Message Bible

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How is it even possible to live like this?

It’s not.

But with God, all things are possible. Jesus said so. (Matthew 19:26). So before I walk out the door this morning I will go to my heavenly Father and ask for truly impossible things.

How about you? Are you asking God for impossible things too?

“Delicious autumn! My very soul is wedded to it, and if I were a bird I would fly about the earth seeking successive autumns.” — George Eliot

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I took this picture a couple of days ago with my iPhone, just down our street. You can click to enlarge it if you like. The summer humidity has fled, the nights are turning crisp and cool, and the trees are superbly showing off before they drop their leaves and go to sleep for the winter.

Like so many of you, this is my favorite time of year, and it always seems too short. There’s a good chance we’ll see snow before the month is over, and then Michael and I will dream of being snowbirds again.

When I moved to beautiful Minnesota in 1981 (from sunny Southern California), I couldn’t understand why so many older people left the state for warmer climes during a winter month or two. Now that I’m 56, I totally get it. If I ever left Minnesota it would be very bittersweet, but the thought of going to a state with cooler summers and warmer winters is very appealing these days.

The sun is coming up and the sky is periwinkle over Lake Superior, I can hear a shower running, coffee needs brewing, and a hungry man awaits breakfast.

I hope your day is blessed…

Hi everyone! I’ve been back from Seattle and Bainbridge Island for a little over a week now. I took quite a few average quality photos while I was there, and I’ll be posting them sometime soon so you can see what a great time Denel and I had at The Second Annual Lupi-Soo Convention.

It seems like so much can happen in a couple of weeks. First of all, my recovering right knee has decided I was getting a tad too smug in my progress, and has been sore and swollen for two weeks now. Secondly, Community Bible Study has begun, and in the book of Daniel we’re learning about and being encouraged by the completely trustworthy and loving sovereignty of God. Thirdly, autumn has arrived in full color in northeastern Minnesota, and I’ll put up a picture or two of the gorgeousness soon. Fourth, we have a new vacuum. And I’m in a state of disbelief at the state of our carpets.

For those of you who don’t know, we have lived in this house for about a year and two months. We had brand new carpet installed in the living room on the day we moved in. We immerse ourselves in the Minnesota tradition of taking our shoes off as soon as we come in the door, and usually wear either clean socks or slippers when inside. I’m kind of picky about carpet. I don’t like dirty carpet. I usually steam clean my carpets every other year myself, because I’m not entirely satisfied with the quick way some of the professional carpet cleaning companies do the job.

In addition, I wasn’t thrilled with the Hoover vacuum we had in the old house. I then bought a Kenmore that was highly rated by Consumer Reports Magazine and never really loved that one either. It bit the dust after five years, and recently I started reading up on vacuums. I decided, very reluctantly, to get a much too expensive Dyson. This one.

Dyson makes claims about their vacuums that not every owner and reviewer agrees with, but 90% of the reviews I read were very positive. There are no disposable vacuum bags with these machines, just a transparent container with a handle on it that snaps out of place for easy emptying when the gag factor climbs too high.

Here’s what came out of our fairly small living room carpet which is only fourteen months old, and one half of our bedroom carpet, both of which have been cared for meticulously and vacuumed frequently:

I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Laugh, because HA HA HA! that dirt is no longer in our carpet! Or cry, because OH MY GOSH! that dirt was in our carpet!

I could have told you what I think God is doing in my life these days (and I’m so grateful He hasn’t given up on me), or regale you with cute sayings uttered by my grandchildren, or share about the new television series Michael loves, but instead I thought I’d show you our dirt.

Coming soon: Seattle, Shari, the Space Needle, some swell sea views, scrumptious sustenance, and snacks…

Dearest friends,

I’m taking a little break from the blog and am not sure when I’ll return. Very soon I will be on my way to this lovely scenery for The Second Annual Lupi-Soo Convention, and I am so excited.

The car Denel and I rent will be transported across Puget Sound in a ferry much like the one above, and we hope to have a few restful, memorable, laughing days together in Seattle and on Bainbridge Island. My dear family members have gathered around to help make sure things go well here at home while I’m gone. I couldn’t enjoy my Lupi-Soo reunions without them.

If you’ve never read about the First Lupi-Soo Convention that took place last year 9,000 feet above sea level in the Rockies, you can click here.

I’m always a little surprised to find that people stop by my blog at all, and I want to thank you again for making time in your life to visit, and especially to say hello in the comments!

God bless you all, and I’ll be praying for you while I’m gone….

These are a few more favorites from my at least six shelves of childrens’ books. My younger grandchildren go back to these again and again, especially if they know I’ll read them out loud for them. I do the best I can using different voices and gestures as I read to them. They crack up when I read them this book, especially by the last page when I open my mouth wide, throw back my head and bellow, “Whhhhhaaaaaaaatttt?”  🙂

This is always a hit, and I love this quirky family myself:

And this one is funny and ridiculous:

We love almost all the Jan Brett books — have you seen them? Her illustrations are rich and detailed and can keep me poring over the pages for an hour. My granddaughter Mrs. Nisky wants me to read this again and again, and she likes the way I do the trolls’ voices:

I think this is my favorite of the “If you…” books by Laura Numeroff:

And this older book is something Audrey likes to have read to her repeatedly. She doesn’t understand how someone could swallow the sea or grow legs hundreds of feet long…

And I love this book probably more than the grandchildren. My friend Carole told me about it and it’s profound for adults.  🙂

Have you read any of these books to the little ones in your life?

What are some of your favorite books for young children?

Oh, it feels like fall here this morning. I love it. I had to get up in the middle of the night to close some windows because our top sheet, thermal cotton blanket, quilt, and top blanket we use so the dogs don’t make the quilt dingy weren’t enough to keep us warm. It will be time to turn on the furnace soon, and it was only two days ago that we had the central air on. Years ago when we had to be aware of every dollar, I would try to delay turning on the furnace until the first of October each year, but I rarely made it that late. The final weeks of September almost always turn cold in northern Minnesota, and this year seems like it will do the same.

The dogs are noticing the temperature difference too, because for the first time in months they’ve both wanted to burrow down under the covers at night instead of sleeping on top. They’re our own personal little space heaters. I have no idea how they breathe down there.

Michael and I took our Fosters out to dinner last night and to a movie. We had fabulous Vietnamese food at one of our favorite restaurants, and brought so much home we’ll have it again tonight. Michael had Spicy Beef Cashew, HOT, and I had Spicy Chicken Cashew, mild. And how could we not share an order of Spring Rolls, dipped in tangy fish sauce?

We saw a movie last night that I absolutely loved. You may remember that I like slow, meandering, nuanced, meaningful movies, and this one fit the bill. If you like action and explosions and lots of laughs, Still Mine would not be for you. It was beautifully filmed in rural New Brunswick and I got the itch to become a Canadian about ten minutes into the movie. I’m not sure children should see the movie because of some unexpected and jolting language and one scene of intimacy between husband and wife (not graphic), but please watch the wonderful trailer by clicking here.

When I told my friend Su we were going to see a movie about an older man making all the changes necessary to care for his wife who has dementia, she asked me, “Why would you want to see that?” and I understood what she was saying. She wondered why I would pay to purposely see something that was probably going to be sad. I answered, “Because I want to be encouraged.” I knew from seeing the trailer that the man loves his wife and wants the best for her, and struggles to make adjustments to her disease. Each day Michael and I walk this path of Parkinson’s, I need help. I need help because I don’t like him hovering when I’m getting meals ready, unable to tell me why he’s there. I don’t like him blurting out two-word phrases to me that make no sense, that I’m supposed to interpret and can’t, even after 10 frustrating minutes. I don’t like that we are now couch potatoes since watching television is what we can do together. I don’t like that I have to tell him when and how to brush his teeth. I don’t like that I have to tell him fifty times a day “Take big steps!” because he forgets how to walk correctly, shuffles and almost falls. I don’t like that there’s a walker sitting in our living room, waiting for Michael to change his mind about using it. And do you see? All these “I don’t likes” are a big problem aren’t they? That’s why I need help. I need the Lord to change my attitude every day, sometimes many times a day, so I will whip the selfish-poor-me lenses off my face and put the look-how-blessed-you-are-to-be-able-to-pour-out-love-on-your-husband lenses back on. Sometimes I do look through those latter lenses, and everything comes into focus. How much Jesus loves Michael and wants to show that love through me. How fortunate we are that we work in our home with two remarkable Fosters who are like family. How rich we are to have the history we have, the children and grandchildren we have. How the Lord is a refuge to us and a very present help in trouble. (Psalm 46).

So I loved the movie. It portrayed the frustration the husband Craig had with his wife’s forgetfulness and diminishing personality. We saw him snap at her, feel so remorseful, and lovingly apologize. We saw the fruits of decades of faithfulness. We saw how he realized that this was going to be their road, and all the practical (if not misunderstood and quirky) things he did for Irene to smooth it out for her.

Yes, I cried. And I also felt very encouraged. I want to be like Craig (played by James Cromwell, who was amazing). If you aren’t daunted by a slow, thoughtful and touching movie, you might want to see it!

Changing topics now, lovely little Louisa will be arriving in a few minutes, and I’ll be watching her today. She is walking all over the place at fourteen months, eating up a storm, being a fan of peanut butter, red bell peppers, all pastas and tomato-ey things, laughing easily at her three older siblings’ antics, and reaching for Grandma every time she sees me. I like that just a little bit. 🙂

Here’s a picture of Michael and me, taken last week. He’s still mine. And I’m still his.

And here’s a quote I read recently that applies to the movie we saw last night, to our own situation, and maybe it will apply to something you’re experiencing as well.

Love is not a vat that you fall into randomly. Love is saying I see everything about you, good and bad, and I am still committed to you. ~~ Tim Keller

Yes!

I hope your weekend is blessed, dear family and friends. What are your plans?

Thank you for stopping by here….

I don’t know if it’s because I just had surgery on some bones, but lately I’ve been thinking about bones. That would stand to reason, wouldn’t it? I mean, my right femur will never be the same. My right tibia and fibula are forever changed. And my patella, that little round disc of a bone? Thirteen weeks ago it had a piece attached to it that will never come off.

Lord-willing.

Anyway, for some reason the other day I was thinking about the scapula. You know what that is, don’t you? It’s your shoulder blade, your chicken wing. It’s that place on your upper back that feels so good when someone massages up under the inner muscles that surround it. Most of us have two of them.

Be honest with me now. Have you ever in your life carefully considered your two scapulae? I hope after you read this blog post, you’ll think about your scapulae in a new, awe-filled way. Because when I started thinking about what an amazing bone a scapula is, how odd and astoundingly complex and supremely functional it is, I was filled with awe. I sat there considering my scapulae and I said, “God, I can’t even get over You. You are amazing. You are brilliant. You are so kind! To carefully form such a wonderful bone so we can move our arms and shoulders and paint and hug and wave and stretch and be protected and gesture and swim! Thank you Lord. Thank you! I think the way You made scapulae is so marvelous I can’t think of anything else to say! Except thank you. And Lord, I want you to know I noticed today.”

If you have never seen exactly how the triangular scapula bone sits in a body, click here first before reading on.

Now take a long look at this illustration of the scapula, from three different angles:

Did you see the Glenoid cavity? How about that Acromial process? And the Supraspinous fossa? Wow! Who could design such a wonderful thing, if not God? Whoever knew that a weird looking triangular bone could inspire worship?

If you’re like me, you have a lot of things to think about today, aside from your shoulder blades. Bills, children, Syria, health concerns, troubles aplenty. But I invite you to consider your scapula. Take a moment right now and give thanks to God for thinking up such a bone, and carefully forming it as you grew in your mother all those years ago. Thank Him for the things you’re able to do just because you have two scapulae that help support other more notable bones.

That’s all. I wanted someone to join me in my thanks and awe today.

Have a wonderful weekend!

Every three or four months we take our Schnauzers to The Bad Lady. This is what they call Joyce, the groomer who has bathed and clipped our dogs for years.

Edith and Mildred call her The Bad Lady because she does things to them they don’t love. She pours water all over them and puts stinky smelling shampoo all over their hair (Schnauzers don’t have fur). She stands them up on a grooming table and keeps their chins lifted by a suspended collar so they can’t sit down or jump off. She squeezes them in humiliating places to empty certain glands. She uses a very loud buzzing thing all over their little Schnauzery bodies to take all the warm hair off. She uses a clipper on their nails and it snaps loudly when the bits fly. And she plucks the hair from the insides of their ears. Edith and Millie prefer not to visit The Bad Lady.

But alas, their mama and daddy want them to go. They come back smelling clean and fresh. They always look a little too severe sleek at first, but in a couple of weeks their hair will grow a bit.

When eleven year-old Edith (below) gets too fluffy, we think she looks like the Sesame Street wolf. When she comes back from The Bad Lady, we think she looks a bit alien, and has bat ears. Here are before and after pictures:

And seven year-old Mildred (below) always looks the same, whether fluffy or shaved: disturbed. Millie is our troubled dog, with multiple personality quirks that make her simultaneously hysterical and annoying.

They always zip around jubilantly when we pick them up from The Bad Lady’s house. They’re so thrilled to be home, and they whisper to each other when we’re not looking, “Whew! Now we can relax for another three months!”

Do your pets talk like ours do?