Through the dining area window and over the fence, I have admired the growing ~more~ gorgeous crop of flowers. Why didn’t God bless my yard with such “green thumbness”? It was okay, however, because at least, she planted them in that particular spot, never dreaming of what a healing blessing they would become.

We’d been out of sorts for years; on again, off again sort of friends. Turmoil invaded their family through drugs and abuse and anger. Lots of anger. Also, sneaky manipulation, which I discovered was a product of the addictions. The cops came and went, the yelling began and stopped and began and stopped. And that was just what happened on their side because of their behavior. I won’t waste time here with how their life choices affected us.

One day, I finally realized the meaning of grace and forgiveness. The WHOLE meaning. God gave me the opportunity to go over there and apologize to pretty neighbor for how I wrongly “handled” things at times. I ended up sobbing as she hugged me and acknowledged that she, too, had mishandled things. After the tears, hugs, apologies and declarations of building a new friendship, we were on new footing.  Now and then, we had the chance to say Hi and How’s “it” going, etc.   Then came my mother’s cancer diagnosis news. Pretty neighbor promised to pray and think positive. Summer rolled along and each of us was so busy, we didn’t get to say Hi…a smiley wave was good enough, but rare. One afternoon, hubby and I pulled into our driveway and got out of the Xterra. Pretty neighbor was coming toward us and I suppose our emotions were all over our faces because she stopped in her tracks and voice wobbly asked, “what’s wrong, what happened?”  My mom died. Oh, the hugs and tears. I cry quietly now as I recall that moment.

The other day, pretty neighbor came to my door, holding the most gorgeous bunch of her flowers., cut from that very spot I’ve been admiring. A gift. For me. You can imagine, I hope, how glorious that was and is. Healing takes time. This is the fruit of forgiveness.

I’m just posting this backside of a little wild sunflower by the lake to remind myself that God knows the whole story; front, back and sides…inside, outside, upside down. Have a lovely weekend, my friends. I’ll be here off and on, figuring it out, just needing to express and visit.

My mother didn’t look beautiful at death. However, I still KNEW she was beautiful. While her spirit went to heaven to rejoice, my spirit felt tired. While I desperately needed to be held or touched ONLY by her, her body was now a cold shell. While her fingers~hands became smaller and bony, yet NOT curled in (thankfully), mine felt weak from the times I helped to change her, move her, feed her, cuddle her, change her bed (along with my older sister)…long before the friend and hospice home care lady and younger sister came. They were the younger ones with more umph than I and older sis had. Older sis is a saint. She, in her developmentally disabled and not great physical shape did everything she could to help mom. There came a point when she and I needed help. Younger sis fluttered onto the scene like a determined angel. Then her hubby came and the 2 of them decided to spend a few nights there, no doubt thinking they could “do this”. I was so grateful that they came to the rescue. It didn’t take long for them to see that we ALL needed more help, much more help as mom’s condition was now beyond just us. We called in the troops! They called Hospice and got that ball rolling. (THANK GOD for Hospice!) Also, our “adopted” big sister from Pennsylvania arrived to my house at 2 a.m. one day after our dear, extremely enthusiastic friend from California came. In those next few days, I felt comforted, yet overwhelmed in a different way. If there was ever one piece of advice I’d give to people going through this, it is: Let your desires be known, heard. Don’t be afraid to speak up. Because of circumstances, I was denied the privilege of helping to dress my mom in her final outfit, the beautiful butterfly top that she would wear when her body would be taken out of the house. At first, I was angry. Now, I am not, because in the grand life puzzle, the pieces were put together by someone else. I can exercise power in other ways, not to harm anyone, but to help myself feel comforted, in control. And that is why I take pictures; capturing life moments as they present themselves to me.

Okay. Hubby says he’ll try to figure this out with me/for me. He knows how important it has been for me to sit here and write and post my photos and share encouragement and advice with my wonderful friends. So, Xanga, we’re ON. Just please help me post my photos! Pretty, pretty please. Insert heart of Love here.

This new format is horrible. I don’t have the time to mess with it. People at Xanga, please refund my money as I will not be using this place to post my photos and words; it’s beyond me. Change is great for some, but right now, I’ve had enough change in my life. I didn’t need this one on top of everything else. I didn’t realize how hard it would be! I had my head in the grief cloud, not even knowing what wordpress would mean.