Minimalism

 I get bored and lazy sometimes and watch you tubes on TV. A while ago I got hooked on minimalist videos. You might think I've come into this trend late, but actually I have been getting rid of things for years. It is so satisfying to get rid of extra stuff laying around that it is pretty addictive. 

When we were young we moved several times, and wherever we went was small. Hence, I learned a long time ago about downsizing. Some people make decent money selling off their extra belongings, but not me. I am way too impatient to sit around waiting for someone willing to take this junk off my hands. 

I love giving things away. If I can find anyone I know to "bless" with my offscourings, so much the better. Most moms are involved in hand-me-down activities, especially homeschool moms, although many homeschoolers try and sell their leftovers at curriculum sales each spring. I tried this once, and it was a big bummer. 

People kept asking me about stuff I had never used, which was a bit disconcerting. Also, one lady was begging me to take a check. No way--even though she was my biggest customer. She was buying a trendy (and expensive) Spanish program that we had abandoned...She ended up paying me with fistfuls of quarters and dollar bills. Too bad she didn't wait me out. I ended up marking down everything to "FREE." I just wanted to get out of there. 

The one time in my life I had a garage sale was about the same. Nowadays I save time and just give away or donate everything. It is delightful. Sometimes I miss the things I got rid of. I have made mistakes. But the funny thing is that in the long run I don't need them. 

My parents had a whole lot of stuff when they passed away. Well, they had lived in that house almost 50 years. That definitely didn't help. The odd thing was, they didn't really care about material possessions. They cared about working. They loved to work, and they loved the people they worked with. 

I think probably they were too busy living their lives to minimalize their stuff. So I did it for them, after they were gone. It was hard, but I'm good at it. I miss them so much.

Faith That Moves Pianos

 In my previous post, I explained how it came to be that we had two pianos in our little bungalow many years ago. In thinking it over later, I realized that some of the details were incorrect. However, it doesn't really change the story so I'll let it be.

Our house had two bedrooms, one bath, a kitchen, dining room, and living room. All the rooms were small and square. There would have been no room for even one piano, except that a previous owner had enclosed the front porch. This made the originally square living room into in "L" shape. The two pianos occupied the long part of the "L."

It was kind of fun having two pianos, although they were just a teensy bit out of tune with each other. My son and I would play things like "The Merry Farmer" together on both pianos. It was a good time. I don't remember exactly why I decided to get rid of one of the pianos. I think it was because we wanted to turn part of the enclosed porch into a tiny extra room.

One day shortly after I had decided this, my husband, Ron, was on the phone with his friend, Marty. Marty could hear me playing piano in the background and mentioned that his wife, Julie, wanted to get a piano. Ron told Marty that we wanted to sell one of our pianos. Apparently, Marty told his wife this. She then told him, immediately, that she wanted to buy our piano.

I was a bit surprised about this and told Ron to ask if they wanted to come see the piano first. They did not. Julie said that she had prayed about wanting to get a piano, and when ours came up soon after, she considered it her answer. This was her piano. No questions asked.

That was nearly 30 years ago. I still think of Julie and her faith--trusting that our piano was an answer to her simple prayer. I would love one day to be like that, and to graciously, thankfully, without questioning and hand-wringing, receive the many gifts that are placed right in front of me all the time. 

A Tale of Two Pianos

 One thing I love to have in my home is a piano. Not a keyboard. I'm not great at piano, but I love to have one around. I love to play classical piano--not well-but still I love to do it. I'm not being modest either.

My dad played piano very well. I loved to hear him. He picked interesting things to play, my favorite being Scarlatti. I play Scarlatti almost exclusively, now that I realize my days on this earth are numbered and there's no use wasting time playing stuff I don't like.

My Uncle Chris played the piano so beautifully it made my cousin and me cry, even when we were skulky teenagers. He played romantic pieces by composers like Brahms and Ravel. Sometimes I play that kind of stuff. My Uncle Chris was an amazing musician. He had an old spinet piano, not a great instrument, but pretty. It was maple and had a nice leafy design carved into the music stand. I always secretly wanted it. 

As a young adult I lived in apartments, often on the third floor. Back then we didn't have a piano, obviously. However, when we finally settled down in a little bungalow where we knew we would stay, I started looking. There had once been a piano factory near where we lived. It was long gone and they had actually turned it into a mall. However, some of those pianos were still kicking around.

In fact, a venerable octogenarian living only a couple blocks from us was advertising her piano for sale in the local paper. I rushed over to check it out. The woman's name was Mabel. She lived with her sister and brother-in-law. She had never married. In her younger years she had worked at a watch factory, and once upon a time, she had bought herself a piano from that local piano factory.

The piano was nice, a dark cherry wood upright, in perfect condition. It was actually not as good of an instrument as my Uncle Chris's piano, but he had not offered me his yet. You see, he had multiple sclerosis, and was unable to play the piano anymore. Still, he was not ready to give it away, which I understood. I asked Mabel how much she wanted for the piano. She looked at me cutely and said, "Fifty dollars?"

We were pretty broke in those days, and I'm not gonna lie, I knew I should offer her more, but I didn't.  So, I got my piano. Next time I saw my Uncle Chris I told him about it, of course. I think it kind of made him jealous that I had got myself another piano, not his. So then he decided that I should have his piano. I said something about what would I do with the one I just bought then, and he told me I could throw it in the garbage. I hope you are laughing now. I know I am.

So, for a while, maybe a couple of years, we had two pianos in our little bungalow. I never did get to my point in this story though, so stay tuned...

Hard to Swallow

I was speaking to a friend the other day on the phone. She lives far from here, in another state. However, it is as though we are knit together and no distance apart whatsoever. We have known each other since we were tiny kids. Our relationship has been on-again-off-again for various reasons, yet we are always close at heart. And now we are sisters in Christ, bringing us even closer.

She was telling me about her daughter, who a while back, to my friend's horror, got a motorcycle. Gasp. Recently, her daughter got into a wreck. Thankfully, she was not seriously injured. However, it was apparently terribly painful. So I would have thought, like my friend might have thought, that it would be the end of motorcycles for this young woman. 

Nope. She went and bought another, bigger motorcycle. And from what I understand, it is not even that she loves motorcycles. She might possibly have given up riding motorcycles. But there was another issue altogether affecting her decision.

My friend told me that the motorcycle community there is a very tight group. They are strongly supportive of one another, evidenced by a group of bikers who hung around the parking lot of the hospital all night while her daughter was there. They were not allowed in to see her, but stayed outside just so she would know they were there. They helped her other times too, like coming to the rescue when she had a flat tire. It sounds like they would be there for each other 24/7, no matter what. 

So this young woman would forego other options, even risk her safety, rather than lose that fellowship. I get that. I know what it is to long intensely for that level of community. I'm not saying that I'm desperately alone. I do have close friends and family. But if this group can rally so passionately around the commonality of motorcycles, it is very convicting to me as a member of the church of Jesus Christ.

 

Stuff that Makes Me Happy

 I wish I could write something funny today, but I'm not in a funny mood. But I am hopeful. Here are some things that make me happy right now. 

My new mug--blue with a cute orange fox in a snowy scene. I love blue and orange, and it was drawn by a friend.

My son Daniel's enthusiasm and zest for life.

My son John's strength.

My son Tim's heart.

My son Chris' integrity. 

All of my sons' funny stories and jokes.

My husband's kindness.

My Uncle Chris' piano, which is now mine.

My dad's U.S. Steel tie clip.

My sister's voice.

My brother Mike's funniness.

My brother Robert's gentleness.

My cousin Lindy's laugh.

My cousin Dawn's laugh.

My cousin Anne's wit.

There are a lot of other people but I'll stop there for now.

This End Up

 I just heard of somebody who needs a heart transplant because his heart is upside-down. He is an adult, with a family, so I don't know how he could have lived all these years with an upside-down heart. I can't ask about it or research it because I am so squeamish I would definitely faint. 

Growing up, I always thought I would have lots of kids. It never occurred to me that I might not be able to birth a baby naturally. However, my firstborn son was breech. In fact, he was sitting up, cross-legged. He was upside-down. So, I had to have a Cesarean section, and that limited the number of kids I could have.

In a somewhat recent Netflix series, Stranger Things, there is an alternate reality, dark and full of horror, which is called, "the upside-down." The show is very disturbing and scary, and I do not recommend it. People unexpectedly find themselves in the upside-down, and they are trapped there. 

I had a dream two nights ago about my dad, who passed away a couple years ago. I am having trouble forgetting it. In the dream, my dad came walking into the house, a thing he couldn't have done the last few years of his life. He was younger, and looked so healthy. His hair was thick and dark. His face was rosy and full.

 At first I was overjoyed to see him, but confused. Then I realized, he could not really be my dad. I said, "Dad! You're walking!" But then I said, "This can't really be you. I'm dreaming." It was sad, and I didn't want it to be true, but I knew it must be. "I'm dreaming. This is too good to be true. I have to wake up." It was so real I almost believed it, especially when I didn't wake up right away. But I kept saying, "I have to wake up. It's not really you." And eventually I did wake up.

The dad in my dream was not my real dad. So it was no good. It didn't mean anything to have a fake dad there. I woke up and was met by the grief that has been there for the last couple of years. My dad was gone. Nothing could change that. And even in the dream I did not want to be consoled by some falsehood that might have made me feel better temporarily. It was the opposite of true. It was upside-down.

Lately I have been fighting negative thoughts. I've been in a bad mood. I talked to a friend about it and she recommended a book she's recommended before. I admitted that I never got the book. She told me the guy also did videos on YouTube on the subject of the book. Well, watching YouTubes happens to be an ambivalent habit of mine. So I watched.

The guy on the video reminded me that it's important to rehearse an attitude of appreciation intentionally, for at least five minutes, at least twice each day. Gratitude. Duh. Anyway, I may have dragged my feet at first, but after working on that a bit, I can confidently say that now I am no longer trapped in the upside-down. I am, for the time being, right-side up.

Jerry, the Squirrel Part Seven: The Squirrel Wars

 "Many years ago, before Great Grandfather Squirrel was even born, things were very different around here," Jerry began. "In those days there were red squirrels in these parts. They are smaller than us, reddish, and they have tufty ears." He continued,"But as people moved in and cleared the trees for timber and to plant farms, gray squirrels, like your mother, and fox squirrels, like me, spread to this area. The farms were rich with food and the larger squirrels thrived."

"Naturally, the red squirrels were not happy, having so many new squirrels crowding in. They missed the quiet and spacious land that had been theirs alone. At first they tried to be friendly. Most squirrels of all types wanted to share the land. But sadly, some of the squirrels began to squabble and quarrel. Eventually it escalated into warfare."

"The Squirrel Wars were a horrible time. They lasted almost three years. Many squirrels lost their homes and were forced to move away. Mostly it was the red squirrels who left. Great Great Grandfather Squirrel was one who tried to forge peace. Even the gray squirrels and fox squirrels were fighting with each other. Eventually a truce was called. All the squirrels agreed to stop fighting. But by then the red squirrels were gone. It was very sad, as many of them had been friends with the squirrels that remained."

"Squirrel Day is the day we remember that truce. Great Great Grandmother Squirrel also started the tradition that at the celebratory meal, each member of every squirrel family shares their hopes, dreams, challenges, and something they are thankful for. In this way we support each other and remember that we all need each other."

Jerry's children were very solemn. A tear rolled down Pickles' cheek. His father plucked him up and hugged him. "Don't worry, Pickles. That was a long time ago. All the squirrels are friends again, well, for the most part!" "But Daddy," protested Pickles, "what about the red squirrels?" "Well, buddy, they're okay now. They found new homes, and you might even meet some down by the creek when you're older. I believe there are a couple of families living there now." Pickles cheered up at that thought. 

"Today is a day of celebration," Carrie proclaimed. "It is a day for all squirrels to be happy that we are squirrels and that we have so much to be thankful for!" "Hooray!" cried Robbie and Dana. "Let's eat!" "Okay, okay," Carried conceded. "We'll share our thoughts as we enjoy the food." And a very fine feast it was.