Simple Pleasures ~ The Changing of the Seasons

Every week finds me looking forward to Thursday, a day when we slow down and notice the things that often get overlooked in the busyness of our lives. Simple Pleasures is what we showcase here on Thursdays, although we get an early start by opening up the doors on Wednesday evenings. And the lovely people who gather here, well, you rock! If you're new, please visit the Simple Pleasures page for complete guidelines. The main thing is to stay on topic, enter your permalink (email me if unsure what that means), don't link up until your post is active, and include a link back to the party (or include a Simple Pleasures button in your post, if that's easier). That's pretty much it. I can't wait to visit with you.

 

Here in Southeast Texas, summer tends to take its sweet time in leaving. But, lo and behold, we woke up Monday morning to—what?—cooler temperatures!

It was just the boost I needed. 

Summer has been put away for another year. Throughout my home, the smell of pumpkin spice and cinnamon awaken promises of brisk mornings and nippy nights, of bulky sweaters, and mugs of steaming chocolate. Autumn—my favorite season of all—is officially here.

What's your simple pleasure this week?

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Monday Musings ~ On death and dying

My daughter was seven when she got her first aquarium. She picked out three tropical fish and promptly named them Special, Colorful, and Beautiful. We took the fish home and admired their beauty and quick moves.

Two days later, Special was dead. I was stunned by my child’s devastation. She cried beyond comfort.

My husband went outside, dug a tiny hole, and gave Special a proper burial. We said goodbye to the little fish and came back inside. The ritual seemed to help, in some small way.

Through the years, we have buried various species in our backyard. There was the baby bird we found injured and couldn’t nurse back to health. Then there was Sam, Ruth, Rick, and Lori—all goldfish named by my daughter, who enjoyed long lives in our small water pond outdoors. And finally, our beloved 13-year-old collie, Princess, on a cold day in January, was laid to rest beneath the pear tree in the backyard.

After each loss, we talked about the reality of death. Most people are uncomfortable talking about death, but it’s a natural part of life. We live. We will die.

Anna Marie was 10 when we got the call to come to the bedside of my husband’s mother. Mildred was dying. It would be the first time that my child would see death so close-up. A few well-meaning friends worried about her seeing her grandmother in “that” condition, but I have long believed that children should not be shielded from the reality of death. It's as much a part of life as being born.

Prior to our trip, I tried to prepare her for what she would encounter. Her grandmother was moving on to the next phase of her life, I told her. A phase we know little of, but fully expect to discover. Mee Maw had been faithful to her family all of these years, and now we would be with her until the end. God would carry her from there.

When we walked into the hospital room, Anna Marie gripped my hand. It shocked her to see the grandmother she adored so frail and unresponsive. But once her initial distress passed, she relaxed. We took turns holding Mildred’s hand, telling her, as best we could, how much she’d meant to us through the years.

In my mother-in-law’s final hours, I watched as her granddaughter sat bravely beside her, singing in tearful sobs, “I just called to say ‘I love you.’” The image of the two of them—one so alive, the other one fading away—was agonizing to watch, but it’s an image I cherish, even now.

I think we do our children a disservice when we don’t allow them to play a part in such a momentous event as the death of a loved one. And being a Christian, I don’t believe death is the end. It is the end of our mortal lives, yes, but only a pause between this life and the life to come.

The Apostle Paul wrote in the fourth chapter of First Thessalonians: “But I would not have you to be ignorant, brethren, concerning them which are asleep, that ye sorrow not, even as others which have no hope. For if we believe that Jesus died and rose again, even so them also which sleep in Jesus will God bring with him. For the Lord himself shall descend from heaven with a shout, and the dead in Christ shall rise first: Then we which are alive and remain shall be caught up together with them in the clouds, to meet the Lord in the air: and so shall we ever be with the Lord.”

No wonder the Apostle Paul concluded by saying, “Comfort one another with these words,” for I can think of no words more comforting.

Note: September 29th marks the anniversary of my mother-in-law's death. She's been gone 14 years now, and I still miss her.

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Simple Pleasures ~ Easy Desserts

Welcome to another week of Simple Pleasures, a place where we slow down and notice the things that often get overlooked in the busyness of our day. I love visiting with each of you every week, and it's wonderful to see that you're mingling among yourselves. That's what makes a great party, and you guys are the best! So, from my heart, thank you! If you're new, please visit the Simple Pleasures page for complete guidelines. The main thing is to stay on topic, enter your permalink (email me if unsure what that means), don't link up until your post is active, and include a link back to the party (or include a Simple Pleasures button in your post, if that's easier). That's pretty much it. I can't wait to visit with you.

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Angel food cake.

Sliced fresh peaches.

A dollop of whipped topping.

Need I say more?

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Monday Musings ~ On keeping a journal

Whether you journal by way of a blog, or putting pen to paper, or maybe a little bit of both, as I do, in my opinion, few things are better for your emotional health than consistent journaling. In earlier times, people, particularly women, often kept a diary. Perhaps it was their way of reminding themselves of their worth.

My first diary experience occurred as a teenager one summer. Back then, I thought a diarist simply recounted the day. Some days my entry was painfully brief: Got up at noon. Bored all day. That only confirmed my worst fear: Nothing was happening. Who needed reminding?

Following that slow summer, I didn’t write again until many years later when I’d just undergone a major operation. My sister presented me with a blank journal. “Here,” she said. “Maybe writing about it will help.”

It did. Journaling is now a centering point in my life, although at first, the process frustrated me. Aspiring to be the perfect diarist, I narrated my days, discussed issues and wrote about the people I loved. But such formality can stifle.

In time, I let go of what I thought a journal should read like. These days, I may jot down a poem, record an overheard conversation, or I might pour out my feelings like a frustrated child.

When my grandmother’s glass powder jar—the only keepsake I have that belonged to her—was broken because of someone’s carelessness, my grief surprised me. I never realized my feelings ran so deep until I filled eight pages about the incident in my journal.

What drove me to ramble on and on about the breaking of a simple jar? The same thing that drives all true diarists, however unpolished, to put such emotions in writing. Diarists know that feelings should not only be felt, but expressed. They know that the days of their lives should not only be lived, but recorded. They also know that there is true healing in putting to paper the experiences that make up our lives.

While in counseling many years ago, my therapist asked me to go home and write about a painful incident that had occurred a decade earlier, describing in detail the place, time of day, the clothes I wore, the emotions that surfaced—all of it—during that distressing event.

It was an excruciating task, requiring all of the courage I could muster. I cried. I screamed. I clobbered the notepad with my fists. But when the words lay quiet in front of me, when I forced myself to write down every agonizing second, and identify every emotion that rose up in me, there came a moment of certain release. For more than a decade, I had dragged the pain around like a ball and chain. Now, for the first time, I began to let it go.

I suppose you could say that journal writing is, in a curious way, one’s private therapy, a conversation with oneself, a way to identify feelings and thoughts that otherwise might be left like unturned stones upon our souls, heavy and oppressive.

Many resist putting intimate thoughts to paper, afraid that someone might discover their writings later on. But it is this—the discovery—that propels me to write with transparent honesty.

Does that mean I spill my guts about every detail of my life, recording every miserable mistake I’ve ever made? Of course not. But in years to come, should my daughter be interested in understanding who her mother really was, the emotions she had and the way she handled life’s difficulties—or didn’t, in some cases—it will all be there, between the pages of my journals.

If she reads closely, she will see that life can be enjoyed, even when trouble knocks at the door. She will discover that obstacles can be overcome, if only she perseveres. She will learn that during our trying times is when we come face-to-face with who we really are. And should we not like the person we see, we can seek to start over, to set things right, to become the person we want to be, with the help and grace of Almighty God.

While my journals may not be great literature, they hold the stories of my life. Like a patchwork quilt, they come together in bits and pieces, revealing the myriad colors and textures of my world, and bringing me a bit of comfort on long, rainy days.

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This post taken from my essay, "Diary evokes honesty," as it appeared in The Dallas Morning News. All rights reserved.

Simple Pleasures ~ My New $9.99 Sandals

Welcome to another week of Simple Pleasures, a place where we slow down and notice the things that often get overlooked in the busyness of our day. I'm delighted to host this event, and you guys blow me away each week with your submissions. Not only that, but as one of my favorite (and very funny) bloggers, Debbie, pointed out to me recently, you're all just so nice and friendly! Mingling with you is just plain fun. I love a good party, don't you? If you're new, please visit the Simple Pleasures page for complete guidelines. The main thing is to stay on topic, enter your permalink (email me if unsure what that means), don't link up until your post is active, and include a link back to the party (or include a Simple Pleasures button in your post, if that's easier). That's pretty much it. I can't wait to see what you've come up with today.

 

All summer, I searched for some gladiator sandals. Even during our recent travels, through some 11 states, I searched. No luck. Until last week, while dashing through a store, in order to get to another one (yes, I finally, after several years, broke down and had to actually go inside a mall, and not just in the outer stores), my eye fell upon a clearance shoe rack (be still, my heart!) and I saw these sitting there, calling out my name, for only $9.99. HELLO!

Even though summer is coming to a close for many folks, here in Southeast Texas my new $9.99 sandals ought to be good through Thanksgiving, at least.

They’re my simple pleasure this week. I can’t wait to see what you've discovered.

After 9-11 ~ Old Glory Finds A Permanent Place

Until that dreadful day, we never flew the flag at our house. No reason, expect maybe too concerned with other things.

But everything changed that day.

Except in inclement weather, we now fly the flag every single day at our house. And it still makes my heart swell, whenever I round the corner and see it swaying in the breeze.

Trusting ~ With or Without A Sign

Many years ago, while going through a grave personal trial. I prayed every which way from Sunday for the situation to be resolved. Nothing worked. In fact, it seemed the more I prayed, the worse it got. The days found me angry with God for not doing something. The nights found me repenting for doubting Him. It was one vicious cycle, and I had all but thrown in the towel.

But one day, my husband and I were traveling through a little river town, close to where I grew up (I'll never forget it), and as we pulled to a stop at a traffic light, I happened to glance out the window, and there, on the side of the road, stuck on a telephone pole, was a cardboard sign with these words stenciled on it: TRUST GOD. It seemed so out of place, posted in the middle of an ordinary field, but I knew it was meant for me. Tears sprang to my eyes. I hadn't even asked God for a sign, but there it was—literally—a sign that He knew, that He saw, that He cared. A sign that I really could trust Him.

It was a turning point for me. My personal trial did not improve right away, but my trust level in God skyrocketed, and, in His time (always key), the situation turned completely around.

If your trust in God is faltering, be encouraged. You see, it's perfectly OK to be angry with God (He's not afraid of honest emotions; He knows what's in your heart anyway), and it's OK to question why He does what He does, or why He allows things to happen. But if we can end our inquiries with, “Nevertheless, I trust you,” then we will be alright. When I don't understand why, Lord, I trust you. When other people's choices force me to travel down roads I didn't want to go down, I trust you. When people I love leave me, I trust you. When sickness invades the body of a loved one, I trust you. In calm or stormy weather, I trust you to be there with me, bringing good out of all circumstances.

At the end of the day, with or without a sign, my hope, my trust, is in GOD.

These are my thoughts on this September evening. Until next time, my friends, keep the faith, even when trials press against you.

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Linking up with the good people at Spiritual Sundays.

Simple Pleasures ~ A Rainy Day

Welcome to another week of Simple Pleasures, a place where we slow down and notice the things that often get overlooked in the busyness of our day. Thanks to all of you who have been coming here and sharing your simple pleasures. I'm delighted to host this event, and it's fascinating, reading what you choose each week. Not only that, you're all just so nice and friendly! I love a good party, don't you? If you're new, please visit the Simple Pleasures page for complete guidelines. The main thing is to stay on topic, enter your permalink (email me if unsure what that means), don't link up until your post is active, and include a link back to the party (or include a Simple Pleasures button if that's easier). That's pretty much it.

Don't forget to mingle! I can't wait to mingle with all of you!

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With Tropical Storm Hermine bearing down on the Gulf Coast recently, we've seen more than our share of rain the past couple of days. But ... if you don't have to get out in it, there's something relaxing about a rainy day. I find it holds infinite possibilities.

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Solitude ~ Monday Musings On Tuesday

Whenever I’m home alone, one of my favorite activities is wrapping an old quilt around me, sinking into the sofa, and embracing the quiet. There is no one needing me. No one to entertain. No deadlines to meet. Just me and my solitude. It is a liberating feeling, and one I cherish.

Say the word “solitude” to some people and they freak out. Every waking moment is spent accompanied by outside stimuli. They fear being lonely.

Being alone in the world can, indeed, make one lonely. We crave relationships, and we all need someone to travel through life with. But solitude is not synonymous with loneliness. Rather, it is being fully with ourselves—a chance to see how we’re doing and where we’re going.

In her classic book, Gift From The Sea, Anne Morrow Lindbergh describes the many jobs that women perform on a daily basis, likening it to a circus act. “It leads not to unification,” she wrote, “but to fragmentation.”

Her solution? Solitude.

“Every person,” she wrote, “especially every woman, should be alone sometime during the year, some part of each week, and each day. I find there is a quality to being alone that is incredibly precious. Life rushes back into the void, richer, more vivid, fuller than before.”

While finding time alone can seem like an impossible mission, whether you're a stay-at-home mom, or doing the 40-hour-a-week thing, it’s worth pursuing.

T. Byram Karasu, M.D., professor and chairman of the Department of Psychiatry and Behavioral Sciences at Albert Einstein College of Medicine, believes that a lack of solitude can affect our mood and sleep patterns. In his book, The Art of Serenity, Karasu says that “psychological and physiological distresses” manifest themselves whenever a person is deprived of time alone.

Experiencing solitude requires the cooperation of others, but, ultimately, it will benefit all of those who depend on you for emotional or physical support.

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FINDING THAT OASIS

The best retreat would be a few days without obligations or expectations. Such retreats are possible, but they require planning and the help of others. If you can’t pull it off, a few hours alone on a regular basis can do wonders. But what if you can’t pull that off either? Take heart. Here are some small ways to find a bit of solitude:

(Photo by Dayle)

• Rise early. Pour yourself a cup of coffee, find a comfortable chair, or slip outside and watch the daybreak. I find it the most peaceful hour of the day.

(Photo by Dayle)

• Be the last one in bed. I often find my quiet time late at night. No radios, televisions, telephones, or lawn mowers to disrupt my peace.

(Photo by Gayle @ Solitary Moments.)

• Take a long bath. Start by announcing your intention, then close the door, light candles, listen to soft music, and rest your head on a bath pillow. Visualize your worries being washed away.

(Photo source: Julia Williams Interiors)

• Create a special place. A corner will do. Bring in a comfortable chair, a lamp, a small table for books and beverages, a scented candle and a light blanket or throw. Instead of working when the children nap, spend time in your special place, praying, meditating, reading, writing, napping—any activity that brings calm.

(Photo by Dayle)

• Plan a “daddy’s day out” with the kids. For most working families, this would fall on a weekend. Activities would depend on the kids’ ages and interests, but the possibilities are endless.

(Photo by Gayle @ Solitary Moments)

• Discover nature. Find a park or garden not far from home and go there often. Lie on the ground, or sit on a bench and listen for soothing, healing sounds—a gentle wind whispering through leaves, the scampering of a squirrel up the trunk of a tree, the voice of God.

(Photo by Dayle)

• Turn off the television, the telephone, the computer, the radio. Discover how the absence of these intrusive devices can make your day more manageable.

• Attend religious services each week. Such events have a remarkable way of quieting your spirit.

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This post appeared, in part, in The Dallas Morning News. All rights reserved.

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Aha Moments ~ In the Margins

I have a number of Bibles to choose from, but my favorite is a dark green, King James Version that my parents gave me for Christmas in 1973. (Yes, that is a very long time ago.) It's the Bible whose pages and margins are all marked up. I’m not sure there is a single page that doesn’t have something written on it.

Whenever I find myself in the midst of a difficult place in life, the first thing I reach for is this Bible. It's never failed to lift my spirits. As the Lord ministers to me through certain Scriptures, I underline the verses, often scribbling the date in the margin. There are also a few notations of sermons I've heard preached, who preached them, and when. And there is a reason for it all.

It is this—the notes in my Bible, and the underlined Scriptures—that are a source of strength and comfort during life’s storms. Coming across marked verses and dates in the margins becomes one of those “aha” moments. God, I know you’ll get me through this storm in one piece, because you got me through that hurricane in 1999. See, it’s right here in the margin. It was this very Scripture that kept me afloat—the same one I have uncovered again today.

Before long, I’m rejoicing in God’s faithfulness, certain, beyond a single doubt, that I will survive the current storm, and all the storms that may follow. The proof is in the margins.

I’ve been reading from my old green Bible for almost 40 years now, and I can echo the psalmist David when he said, “Thy word is a lamp unto my feet, and a light unto my path.” It is powerful and life-changing. It can unravel the mysteries of life and soothe the troubled mind. It is the only thing that will last forever.

Taken from the book, Home Improvement:9 Steps to Living a Joyful Life, by Dayle Allen Shockley. All rights reserved.

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Linking up with blogging friends, Charlotte and Ginger, over at Spiritual Sundays, where exciting things are happening.

 

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Simple Pleasures ~ A Clean Kitchen

Welcome to Simple Pleasures, a place where we slow down and notice the things that often get overlooked in the busyness of our day. Thanks to all of you who have been coming here and sharing your simple pleasures. I'm so pleased to host this event, and it's fascinating, reading what you choose each week. I love a good party, don't you? And don't forget to mingle, which is, after all, one of the best things about throwing a party.

If you're new, please visit the Simple Pleasures page for complete guidelines. The main thing is to stay on topic, enter your permalink (email me if unsure what that means), and don't link up until your post is active. That's pretty much it.

I can't wait to mingle with all of you!

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One of my favorite things, at the end of the day, is tidying up my little kitchen. I guess that makes me an oddball, but when I make that final turn to switch out the lights, and I hear the dishwasher making that lovely whooshing sound while working its magic, suddenly, all is right with the world.