Each Day is a New Beginning

Spring is definitely on it's way. I see it in the occasional blue sky and gentle rain and in the yellow and purple crocus that are sticking their little heads through the cold soil. It lifts my heart and brings renewed hope that some of the darkness in the world will soon turn to more laughter, light, love of our fellowmen, women and children and especially our God. 

January and February in the top of the Rocky Mountains brought far less moisture than usual this year, except for the days I needed to be on the ever under-construction freeway. The blizzards would descend with a furry upon demarcation lines in the road's surface that were always changing. And in my rather outdated opinion--since I am no longer exactly young--inattentive and careless driver's were taking too many needless chances that endangered lives and often caused major damage for their fellow travelers. 

I hated leaving my home and took great comfort in knowing that I had a few weeks to finish winter projects. But the beginning of 2025 was far from stress free or enjoyable. January began with my yearly UTI that took me to my friendly Insta care facility where I found that the doctor I had almost enjoyed seeing was no longer there. He had been lighthearted, straight forward and knowledgable. The one I saw this time seemed even older than me, and his bedside manner left something to be desired. But I got the antibiotic I needed and was grateful just knowing I would be feeling better within twenty-four hours.

But that relief didn't last long because on February 8, a friend--whose big Husky dog I had foolishly let come into my home so we could visit while she was taking him on his morning walk--started scratching more furiously than usual. Now I am horribly allergic to both dogs and cats so I knew I was taking a risk, but my friend and I had spent most of January reading and discussing self-help books in hopes of being better able to view some of our childhood trauma more clearly and learning how to put some of it to rest and so we could get on with living.

To make a long story less cumbersome, I got a piece of his hair in my right eye. Two days later the entire eyelid was bright red and very swollen. So I went back to Insta care to see if the hair had gotten lodged under my eyelid because it hurt something awful. The same doctor was there and after I explained what happened, he said it looked like I now had a horrible infection. He gave me a different oral antibiotic, along with an antibiotic eye drop and another eye drop to help the swelling go down. I walked away from the pharmacy feeling rather dejected after spending $130 that had not been part of my budget. 

My eye started to look somewhat better, but two days after the prescription ran out it started to swell up again. But this time there was a big, red lump growing on the surface of my eyelid and my vision was blurry. It wasn't a stye because I'd had one of those before, so I went back to Insta care. This time I got a young, female doctor who, when I showed her the pictures I had been keeping of my eye on my phone, said it was an allergic reaction. She felt confident that a course of steroids would fix me right up.

I wish that had been true. But the minute I was through with the steroids the swelling and discoloration came right back. I was getting nowhere fast seeing regular doctors, so I tried to make an appointment with the one who took care of my eye. But they're very busy people, and the earliest he could see me was three weeks out. By this time I had been dealing with this ugly ordeal for a month and was tired of looking like a freak and having people stare at me whenever I had to be out in public. So I reached out to another friend whom I thought might be able to help.

While I was waiting for a return text, I went to get my allergy shots and told the nurse what I had been going through. She took one look at my eye and said she wanted the allergy doctor to look at it before giving me any injections. He did, but he just gave me a prescription for another antibiotic and told me to call him on Monday if it wasn't doing any better. 

I was at my wit's end by the time I talked to my friend later that day. I had now seen three doctors--each with a different diagnosis and another round of pills. I knew all that medication was not good for me, but I did not want to lose my eyesight or continue looking like some pitiful creature from some horror movie. It was both upsetting and embarrassing because, even at seventy-six, I want to look my best around other people. 

When my friend told me there was an eyelid specialist thirty minutes away, I was both hopeful and amazed because I had never heard of such a thing before. But I took the number and gave them a call. Heavenly Father was really looking out for me because the receptionist said they'd just had a cancellation for the next Tuesday at 7:40 in the morning. I would have been there if it had been in the middle of the night. All I wanted was to look somewhat normal again. 

The next few days I scoured the Internet, and before I even went to the appointment with the specialist I knew what was wrong. Fortunately, I had thrown the last round of antibiotics away after three tablets because I was starting to feel like my heart was going to explode. It might have just been my nerves. But as my system began to clear, my body's natural ability to heal was able to kick in and a huge white pocket was forming over the ugly--and now very hard--red lump. 

The eyelid specialist confirmed my suspicion about a condition called Chalasia where an oil gland gets clogged and can't drain. He said it may have started with the dog hair, but it could just as easily been a coincidence. I don't really believe in coincidences, especially because of the timing, but by making a small incision, he was able to drain some of the fluid. He wasn't able to get as much of the core as hoped, so for the last ten days I've been putting hot rice packs on my eye 4 times a day, for twenty minutes and using a special ointment morning and night.

It seems like that takes most of my day, but I will go back next week to see if surgery is required, or if I will be performing the same daily routine for the next six months to a year. That's how long this condition can take to reverse without intervention. I'm not sure which prognosis sounds best right now. Neither is ideal. But life goes on and new challenges occur on a daily basis.

Right now, I am waiting for my son's phone call as to where things now stand after bringing charges against my ex-husband for molesting my granddaughter and three other young girls from his wife's family. That's all we can verify right now, but this needy, nutty woman is standing by him and has willingly turned against all of her children, grandchildren and siblings to do it. I will never understand how anyone who has been a mother can do that, but then I'm surprised most every day by the evilness in our world today.

Anyway, my son, daughter-in-law and granddaughter are meeting with the district attorney, their lawyer and a young woman who went through a similar horrendous experience with a family member to learn what to expect during the preliminary trial on April 3. I'm extremely anxious about what will happen in front of that judge, and pray continually that my ex will take responsibility for his actions and accept the plea deal so no one will have to testify. But like my son, I'm not so sure his pride will allow him to. The success of his life has always been measured by others perception of him, and I doubt that will change now. He'll go down fighting or not at all. 

But I take comfort in knowing that God lives, he is the only true judge, and he does answer prayers--even if we don't always recognize them. 

While it goes without saying that writing blogs has been hard for me lately, it's not just because my health issues have kept me distracted and in a less than positive mood. My mind has been swirling in a hundred different directions almost daily because I am determined to keep my single New Year's resolution. I have been feverishly working on my life history since it's the one thing only I can do. Every other role I play can be filled by someone else if I am not around.

I want my posterity, along with the rest of my family and friends, to better understand the experiences that have made me who I am, and the source I have always turned to for strength and help during my darkest hours. Each of us have a unique story that only we can tell, and I am so grateful Heavenly Father is helping me write mine now. I feel his guidance so often as I try to put into words what is in my heart without casting blame on others who have their own struggles to deal with.

I'll end by saying that it's been a good day. The sun finally came out and I was able to visit an elderly friend who is experiencing acute back pain and take her some home-baked goodies. I do believe in angels. They surround us daily, and I want to be that angel for someone else. It might take some of my time when I could be doing something else, but I always feel so much lighter inside after rendering even the smallest act of kindness. What a privilege it is to serve others and know that I am trying to follow in my Savior's footsteps. 

Can You Breath Again?

What a historic day we are living through. I hope everyone listened to President Trump's Inaugural Address--preferably without the biased, liberal commentary of the deep state left. Other than on a few occasions like this, I am glad I have nothing but rabbit ears for television viewing. Main stream media provides little wholesome viewing and their deranged commentaries on the news do nothing but cause disinformation and globalists ideals to spread to the unsuspecting and uninformed. 

If I ever have a few moments when I want to let my mind go blank and just veg, I put in a DVD of an inspirational movie or an old tv series that isn't laced with media propaganda. However, I have discovered that some of the television series I thought were nothing but the creative genius of writers were really contrived glimpses into the future the globalist elites and deep state had in mind for us--one filled with terrorist activities, manmade disasters that displace our citizens with no relief or recourse, civil unrest, human and drug trafficking, unrelenting war and crime-ridden cities--to name just a few.

It made my heart hurt during my hour or so of viewing as I was forced to listen to the platitudes and lies the anchors perpetrated about the greatness and humility of the democrats and known rhinos who were in attendance. Those dialogues became even more intolerable because not a single patriot was spared at least one disparaging remark. Even our lovely, kind and gracious First Lady, Melania, was censured as being a former model who was overly concerned about her appearance. 

But in a way, I am glad I watched it on a very politically biased outlet because it made perfectly clear the far-reaching extent of hypocrisy in the outgoing administration, and put into perspective just how greatly our beautiful country has suffered under their leadership. 

I hope never to forget the look on President Trump's face in those brief moments before making his inaugural address to our nation. He appeared calm and composed on the surface, but his eyes let me know just how human he is and how heavy his burdens weigh. I prayed for his continued strength, safety and guidance, along with that of his family who have already endured so much opposition and hatred. These stalwart, loyal and brave individuals could have walked away from the continuing fight for our freedoms, but they close to stand by their husband, father and grandfather not knowing what other sacrifices they might be called on to make as a family.

President Trump has lived through and risen above many horrific battles, including several assassination attempts, but the precipice he was standing on at that moment could bring the ultimate battles of his life. The stage had been set and the majority of people stood with him, but the dark and sinister forces he had been dealing with for the past nine years had barely begun their fight. When Kamala Harris said just a few days ago--with that ever-present and annoying cackle--that she would not disappear into the night she was including her unprincipled comrades who had already unleashed almost intolerable pain and chaos and stood ready and prepared to do more. 

But for President Trump, whom providence had protected and brought to this moment, there would be no turning back after his speech was delivered. While his remarks would bring rounds of applause and unprecedented joy to those who believed as he did, they would also unleash unimaginable fury from the far-left activists as he reemphasized his promises to return our country to God, to its amazing constitution and to the lawful citizens whose beautiful home it is and who enabled such a glorious victory.

I felt immense pride and gratitude as he rose to his feet and made those few steps to the lectern. He was prepared, powerful and committed. Nearly every promise reiterated brought a standing ovation from the crowd, but all the former presidents and their wives--including Harris and her husband--sat as if unable to move. The expressions on their faces ranged from rage and fear to a pretense of apathy. They managed to pull it together when he mentioned the hostages being released, but their contempt was ever present. 

It was impossible not to notice two things during the short ceremony that may have been more than a simple oversight or a mechanical failure with the sound system. The facial reactions from those individuals mentioned in the above paragraph was very telling, and the outcome far different from what they expected. First, time was not given for President Trump's family to join him before he placed his hand on two Bibles and Justice Roberts began to swear him into office. The smaller Bible had been given to him by his mother and the larger one president Lincoln had used at his inauguration. 

Could there be some underlying meaning with that? Considering the sharp division in our country after the last four years of brainwashing and manipulation it seems entirely possible. As does his inauguration landing on Martin Luther King Day--also a time for remembering promised deliverance from oppression. 

Second was the loss of sound when Carrie Underwood stood up to sing America the Beautiful. The faces behind her were not sympathetic, but she handled it with complete grace. Her a cappella rendition was so moving most everyone joined in to sing with her--even some of those who had been so completely stoic before. The love for our country and the joy felt to be on the verge of reclaiming its foundational principles must have been electric. Nonetheless, I cannot help but wonder why the soundboard was still working for all the microphones on stage and only the channel controlling her background music was affected. Guess the conspiracy theorist in me is still alive and well.

I am so grateful my fellow patriots and I have made it this far. The hope for a beautiful future with our constitutional rights being upheld once again and all the woke nonsense and support for criminals being abolished is strong. But I fear the war we are waging against so many unseen forces of evil is far from being over. That's why we can never become complacent and think we've already done our part. 

President Trump and all those unnamed heroes fighting for our freedoms need our support and strength more than ever. We can now speak the truth and stand up for what we believe without fear of complete retribution by unknown forces that have been allowed to silence us during these past few years. Not that it won't take time to undo all the damage that has spread into every sector of our lives, but the plan is being implemented as of today. If we stand strong and immovable we will prevail and our posterity will be true recipients of the American dream that has been undermined and, in far too many instances, destroyed.

I do feel like I can breath again--at least for the moment. But evil men and women, whose true master is Satan, never sleep and have unlimited resources. However, what they don't seem to understand is that God is truly in charge. He is our maker, offering strength, courage and hope because righteousness will eventually prevail. And if we are on His side we really have nothing to fear. So I'll say my prayers and try to remain as prepared and positive as possible for whatever may come my way because I am a believer in God, in truth and in the goodness of the vast majority of my fellow travelers during this mortal journey.

 

A Quarter of a New Century Gone

It's mid-morning on January 1, 2025 and the clouds hang heavy outside my living room windows. The white branches of the Quaking Apsen trees stand still against  a milky whiteness that appears thick enough to cut with a butter knife. Gone is the sunshine from yesterday making it a very dreary day indeed. But there is a certain solace in a world without outside movement after the hustle and bustle of the Christmas season. My body and heart are ready for some time spent in self-reflection and deciding what I want this new year to be.

My thoughts about the importance of the minutes and hours it would bring changed very rapidly last night after my son picked up the two family dogs I had been watching for a week while they spent time with his biological family. Needless to say, the week was more bitter than sweet. While the enthusiasm of the puppies is fun to watch, my allergies kicked in with more force than usual almost immediately--most likely intensified because it rained or snowed the entire time and their little feet brought in plant mold and mud from the yard in addition to the allergens their bodies automatically produced. I got extra shots to help combat what having them around did to my own system but by Sunday night my eyes were horribly red, swollen and itching. I spent the last two days of their stay in the basement tying off queen-size quilts since they much preferred the main part of the house and only came down occasionally to see if I was still there.

After the baby quilt humanitarian project of October and November, I had decided to  make large quilts for each member of my immediate family for Christmas next year. While that was a noble and reachable goal, my OCD behavior told me I might as well use up all the fabric I had left in one of my storage closets. I knew it would make my kids happy because they seemed to enjoy complaining about having to get rid of all my stuff when I was gone. I had finished tying nine big quilt tops--enough to fulfill my goal with two left over--by the time the dogs left and was excited to get my house de-dogged so I could sew together the fabric for three more. That would take care of all the batting I had and all but a few folds of fabric. 

Imagine my surprise when I discovered that every piece of fabric I had matched so carefully with something else was only 36 inches wide instead of the 44-45 I had been using and needed for the size of the quilts I was making. Normally, when confronted with such a disaster that stopped my plans cold, I would have fallen into an immediate panic and begun planning a next-day trip to the fabric store. But as I stood at my dining room table where my sewing machine sat ready for use, a sudden burst of relief washed over me. I had the amount of quilts I needed for next Christmas and enough was enough!!! I may have wanted but certainly didn't NEED any more. So I returned everything I had planned on using to the basement closet and took the long quilting frames to the garage where the were returned to a top shelf for storage until another overwhelming mood hit me.

I thought I would regret my decision this morning, but I had a dream last night that didn't make much logical sense because it bounced around so much, but the overall meaning was more than clear. My time for busy behaviors that kept me from dwelling on recent hurts, even more than those of the past, needed to stop. Change was coming and I wouldn't be prepared to deal with any of it unless I was in a place where hearing the promptings of the Spirit of God was possible. 

While we have a new president-elect whose plans to Make America Great Again fill me with a hope that brings tears to my eyes, I also know that we are in the final hours before our Savior's return and that means the chaos, fear and unimaginable acts of cruelty and horror are not going to end. That is certainly made clear enough as we see the potential for war looming in many parts of the world, the horrific crime in so many areas of our country dramatically escalating, and those who oppose the patriot movement to restore our constitutional republic ready and willing to commit any act of treason or inhumanity to keep their depraved actions hidden and their goal of enslaving the world from completely falling apart.

That's why my focus this year has changed from learning everything I can about how we got to where we are as a human society that seems intent on destroying itself to defining who I am as an individual and what I can do in my own circle of influence to help those I meet feel some of the hope and peace I do. God is in charge, and come what may, I want to be His hands in helping to move His work forward. What a glorious day it will be for the faithful when the Savior returns, but we have to get through all the revelations about the destructive and dreadful last days first. I'm ready to put on my running shoes, take my vitamins and push forward with more energy and purpose than I ever have before.

But . . .  That's always the word that gets me in trouble, as it may well do for many of you. I can find excuses every day to remain complacent and leave the foot work to others. I love being in my home with the doors and windows locked to keep the outside world away, but that is neither possible nor profitable for an extended period of time. While my need to find my center again is great, I can't just abandon duties and responsibilities to take an extended ME vacation. But I can focus on creating a better balance between personal needs, wants and desires, rendering service and compassion to others and finding out what God really needs for me to do before my earthly journey is over.

That seems like a daunting task and one I have contemplated several times in the past before something seemingly more pressing has pulled me away. Take, for example, the need to write a personal life history that may give clarity to my existence to whatever posterity I might have. I have been working at, or around it, for years but my time is running out. That quarter of a century I mentioned in the title is kinda bugging me since I have already lived three-quarters of one and don't seem to have much to show for it except an aging body, lots more wrinkles and saggy skin than I would like, and the lack of energy to do much more than what is required at the time. It's also been hard to accomplish much with a project like that  since I have near total memory loss when it comes to my life's experiences and what I do remember has been both traumatic and painful. It's also not my place to cast blame on anyone or bring to light faults, shortcomings or downright abuse administered by others since I have plenty to account for myself. Besides, all of us will eventually receive just rewards for the kind of lives we've lived and the thoughts we've had while on earth, and having someone who is far wiser do all the judging is okay with me. 

However, I do have a responsibility to leave something to those who come after me. Will anyone really care what I ate for breakfast or how much things cost? Highly doubtful, except for perhaps a passing interest, since they will be consumed with their own challenges and worries. And I'm certainly not able to predict what their futures may hold, but I can write about my own dark moments of pain, disappointment and loss of things I desired most and the growth and personal understanding they have fostered. I can talk about what make me happy, gives me hope and broadens my spiritual perception. But mostly I can bear witness that God lives and loves us, and that our Savior, Jesus Christ, died that we might live again and even gain a state of exaltation if we're willing to pay the price of repentance for sins committed. That includes truly striving to keep all the commandments given for therein is true inner peace, safety and joy regardless of what might be going on around us.

I'm not sure how long my resolve will last. I tend to drift easily away from things that seem overwhelming or uninteresting like eating better, daily exercise and the like, but something feels different today. Maybe it's the landmark of having seventy-five years of living on this planet behind me and knowing that each year I am given now is a true gift. There just isn't time to worry about all the things that have mattered most in the past. I will never be young again in this part of my journey and most people will still dismiss me as having having no value because I'm old. But I'm still young, vital, hopeful, energetic and even playful on the inside where it really matters and I'm not going to let others tell me I can't dance to my favorite music or whirl around in the rain or eat chocolate every day because it tastes better than lettuce. 

That beautiful, God-given spirit I came to earth with still resides inside of me and I need to acknowledge and honor its presence since it will remain with me throughout all the eternities that lay ahead. How grateful I am for a new year that can be filled with peace, joy and understanding in a world filled with strife and chaos if we choose to focus our attention on the things that matter most--our families, our life purpose and our relationship with our Heavenly Father and our Savior.

The sky is the same weirdly heavy white it was when I started this post. Not even a branch in the trees has moved. That kind of stillness has a certain forbidding about it since there is no way of knowing what tomorrow might bring. But it won't really matter as long as I'm doing what I feel is right. I'll be up early and on the road to a place where I can offer the kind of service to others that they cannot do for themselves. May 2025 be the best year ever for all of you. It truly is a glorious time to live.