Gratitude365

For the first time in many years, I went to church this morning. God works in mysterious ways.

I’m trying to analyze why this all happened, because 24 hours ago, it was the furthest thing from my mind. But I’m beginning to see that it was the natural outcome of the past three years of seeking Truth about what the heck is going on. It doesn’t take a genius to realize that what we’re witnessing is a battle between good and evil, right and wrong. Unless, of course, you’re ok with raunchy nudity at pride parades or drag queen story hours for young children.

Over the past few months I’ve doubled down on the time I spend reading the Bible and my devotionals, one of them being The Upper Room. It’s a bimonthly magazine, and last week I disappointingly came to the end of the May/June issue. A friend here at the resort, a bonafide member of the Methodist church, had distributed them to us at our first Women of the Word praise and prayer group meeting in April, but she has since gone to Colorado for the summer. My mom always used to say that “God helps those who help themselves,” so I considered going to one of the two nearby Methodist churches to pick up a few copies of the magazine for our group. One church is in Blue Eye and the other in Kimberling City, each about 25 minutes away.

I decided on the latter after looking at each of the churches’ websites and discovering that the one in Kimberling City had a Sunday Front Porch Gospel service at 8 a.m. A few things about it appealed: Today’s would have a patriotic theme; there’d be bluegrass and country music pickers, something I discovered I loved listening to, thanks to spending winters in Texas; and the service was also going to be held outside in the parking lot–an ideal location if I wanted to escape. After all, once I snagged a few copies of the latest issue, my work would be done.

The pickers were singing Lee Greenwood’s “God Bless the USA” as I approached the folding chairs, neatly arranged in front of the mobile stage. Joggers and walkers stopped to listen, and people pumping gas at the Conaco strained to see what the crowd was all about. After all, it wasn’t yet 8 o’clock. Eight pickers were on stage, all dressed very patriotically. I’d barely gotten situated in my seat at the end of the row when a nice woman named Rosemary greeted me and began making small talk. The music began in earnest with one bluegrass gospel song after another; it was like being at a show in Branson or Silver Dollar City, minus the crowd. I loved every minute of it.

No one is more surprised than me that I went to church today, enjoyed it, and am already planning to go next week…although the two friends to whom I gave an Upper Room to were shocked when I told them. Previously they’d both asked me to go to church with them but respected my resolve to “find God my way.” I’m getting there. And as if I needed confirmation of being on the right path, I got it when I opened the magazine to today’s reading. God definitely works in mysterious ways.

And let us consider how to stir up one another to love and good works, not neglecting to meet together, as is the habit of some, but encouraging one another, and all the more as you see the Day drawing near. ~Hebrews 10:24-25

Ordinarily I don’t wish for days to go by quickly, but yesterday was one of them. It was surgery-day for Victor, who was scheduled to have two masses removed, one on his paw and another enormous one on his tail. I was so reluctant to take him; at 18 years old, surgery is a tenuous option. But when there’s no other alternative, all one can do is pray and hope for the best.

Just three hours after dropping Victor off, the vet clinic called and asked us to come get him. Surgery had gone well and he was awake, but not happy. We could hear him howling loudly in the background. He was hurting and undoubtedly hungry, and when Victor’s hungry, He Doesn’t Stop Crying. We mused that he was probably driving the staff insane.

We got there as soon as we could, which still took 45-minutes. I love our location here, but nothing is convenient. We could hear Victor yelping the moment we set foot inside the clinic. He sounded pathetic…and pissed. He wailed all the way home, and then for the next several hours. Loudly and without ceasing. I never said Victor wasn’t tenacious. He is a chihuahua, after all.

We’d gotten 5 days’ worth of pain meds that were to start the following day, and I jokingly asked Dave if we could start him on them early, he was in that much pain. Of course, we didn’t, but I could still wish. He was ravenous and downed several chicken nuggets throughout the afternoon. Yes, we’re guilty of feeding Victor people food, but at his age, it’s a reward. He deserves it, and it makes him happy.

It was a long day, and around 8 o’clock Victor finally fell asleep in my arms for a couple of hours. I got some shuteye, too, which I needed and very much appreciated. He’d been crying and occasionally shrieking ever since noon, non-stop. Around 11 p.m. he stirred and I took him outside—he finally pee’d, always a positive sign after surgery. Shortly after that we both fell asleep, him on the couch and me on the recliner.

It’s now 24+ hours post surgery, and Victor’s quiet and sleeping, thanks to the pain pill. We doctored him a little, taking the bandage off his paw and changing the one on his tail. Life is getting back to normal. Days such as yesterday make me grateful that most days are relatively peaceful and calm. I’m grateful each day lasts just 24 hours, and I’m grateful for the difference 24 hours makes. Each day has its own blessings.

For his anger endureth but a moment; in his favour is life: weeping may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning. ~Psalm 30:5

When my mom died in 2007, the only thing of hers that I really wanted was a piece of furniture that had been in my parent’s house for as long as I can remember–a vintage mid-century contour recliner made sometime in the 1950’s. At the time, we were living in our 5th wheel, but we managed to wiggle and maneuver it into the rig and find a place for it nevertheless. It wasn’t until we got Felix 2018 that we had to relinquished it–and a lot of other stuff that wouldn’t fit in the motorhome–to our daughter when she bought her house.and had the extra space. But because it had been so well loved, the recliner’s wear and tear was sadly obvious and she relegated it to a corner in her bedroom upstairs where it has been a general catch-all ever since.

Just recently I discovered an upholsterer in nearby Hollister and got Felix’s cushions recovered. I mentioned my mom’s recliner to Kenny, the owner, and to my surprise, he knew exactly what I was talking about, and said he could reupholster it. I couldn’t wait to tell my daughter; she’d given up all hope of finding someone who could do the job.

When things are meant to be, they happen quickly. Within days of finding the upholsterer, we drove to Kentucky (a trip planned for months) to help with the home front while our daughter took our grandson out of town for travel ball. I thought it was the perfect time to get the recliner. The challenge was getting it down from upstairs; Dave didn’t think he and I would be able to manage it safely down the 13 steps, and I agreed. I was grateful that two of Kate’s friends came over Saturday morning and got the job done in less than five minutes. And just as I thought, it fit perfectly in the back of our car!

From Saturday morning until Tuesday morning when we delivered the recliner to the upholsterer, the rear view mirror was blocked and all that could be seen was a mirror-ful of orange and nothing else. I couldn’t help but notice the comparison to life; that what we’ve been in the past doesn’t matter nearly as much as what we are becoming. That what we’ve done in the past doesn’t matter nearly as much as what we do today. That the old, worn out thoughts of yesterday can be refreshed and renewed.

This was a lesson I needed to learn, and it came at just the right time. Self-flagellation comes all too easily to me, and recently I’ve been criticizing myself for certain past decisions–not that it does any good. I’m grateful that I connected the situation to real life. Three days of not seeing what was behind me didn’t prevent me from moving forward; in fact, I was paying more attention to what was ahead since there was no point in looking behind. This was a good lesson to learn.

Let your eyes look directly forward, and your gaze be straight before you. ~Proverbs 4:25

A friend’s mom passed away recently after a long illness, and while going through her personal items, my friend came across what she assumed was something creatively written by her mother. It was lovely, and my friend was touched. She wasn’t aware of her mom being a writer, but then again, do we really know anyone 100%?

May the good Lord be with you
Down every road you roam
And may sunshine and happiness
Surround you when you’re far from home
And may you grow to be proud
Dignified and true
And do unto others
As you’d have done to you

Her sister, who was helping her, listened carefully. While my friend somberly read their mother’s words, her sister was thinking to herself that she’d heard something similar before. Suddenly the familiarity dawned on her.

“It’s a Rod Stewart song!” she announced with the sort of pride one feels when solving a puzzle. “Forever Young.” The realization hit my friend, and both sisters fell out laughing, then crying, then laughing again. They missed their mom so much, but this little bit of comic relief lightened their sorrow markedly.

I’m grateful my friend posted her discovery on Facebook because it made me laugh. It was uplifting to think that my friend’s memories of her mom will probably include this funny snippet, and that will do wonders for easing her pain. I’m grateful that her mom’s “note” will be included in her celebration of life ceremony. I am grateful my friend shared her comic relief. It made a lot of people laugh, and laughter makes people feel good.

Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted. ~Matthew 5:4

On Tuesdays, a small group of RVing women friends and I gather for worship, praise, prayer and fellowship. For several weeks we’ve been praying for someone very close to me who’s been struggling with a problem not unlike my own with alcoholism. I was visiting with her yesterday, and she had many questions about that, when I started drinking, what got me into recovery, AA meetings were like, etc. I’ve attended a few during the time I’ve been here, and my friend knows how much I like going. I told her that the reason I go is because I can identify with everyone there; we all have the same problem. She wished there was a group like that for her, and I said there probably was. I had heard that there was a 12-Step program for every situation and I know why. It’s a proven program that’s worked for millions of people like me.

I couldn’t let go of the idea. Was there a 12-Step program for people with her problem? The answer wasn’t too hard to find: there is a program, and it’s called Anorexics and Bulimics Anonymous. I was so grateful! I delved into the website and was excited about sharing the discovery with my friend. To my surprise, she was initially skeptical–at least, up until I told her that their textbook was akin to my Big Book, and that it included stories written by people who were once in the same situation she’s in. By the expression on her face, I knew that it was the latter that had made an impression. I was so grateful!

I’m grateful that I can share my experience, strength and hope with others even though our situations are different…for all recovery programs, including 12-Step programs, treatment facilities and others…for my Tuesday friends with whom I pray…and most especially, for the power of prayer!

And this is the confidence that we have toward him, that if we ask anything according to his will he hears us. ~1 John 5:14

My husband and I spent the last two days walking through the Ark Encounter and the Creation Museum, and I’m so grateful for the shift he’s had in certain perceptions. We came here because I wanted to, as well as to give our daughter and her kids some breathing room in between travel ball trips, and to be honest, I prayed that the experience would somehow make my husband want to have God in his life.

I never pushed either attraction; I wanted him to want to come here, and I was delighted that he did. Growing up, I had religion shoved down my throat and even used as punishment, so I am careful about even mentioning the subject. But God is different from religion, thank God.

I’m an early riser, and making coffee is the first thing I do when I wake up. But here in our darkened hotel room, I had to wait quietly until it was time for breakfast to start in the lobby; I didn’t want to wake anyone up—‘anyone’ being Dave and our pup, Victor. Opening the blinds brought in the light of day, enough for me to read my devotionals, and I couldn’t help but think back to a conversation my husband and I had about the tremendous crowds at both the Ark and the Creation Museum. We had talked about the dark times our country is currently in, and that maybe that was a reason for all the people. People are looking for hope—hope that the evilness gripping our country is vanquished. The need becomes more desperate by the day.

Just as opening the blinds allowed light to enter the room, being immersed in the Ark Encounter and Creation Museum opened my husband’s eyes in ways I have yet to find out. But after 44 years, I know this man very well, and I can tell that there’s been a change in him in the last 48 hours. I am grateful for prayers answered.

For you were once darkness, but now you are light in the Lord. Walk as children of light… ~Ephesians 4:8

This time last week, I was in a knot about future plans not being able to be made because of variables outside of my control. I finally wrote about it, which helped. It took awhile, but when I stopped worrying about when, or even if, my hope of going to the Ark would happen and left it up to God, I felt immediate peace. I knew in my heart that however things worked out, it would be alright. I am grateful that I’m getting better at getting out of my own way.

As it turned out, the travelers came home a day early and we were able to get away Saturday, driving to Williamstown, four hours and one time zone east of our daughter’s place. We ended up snagging the last pet-friendly room at a hotel that’s just down the road from the Ark, so the convenience couldn’t be better. I got online and found out the details about tickets and parking and took care of that ahead of time. Everything was falling into place, just like they always do when I let God take control of things.

At 510 feet from bow to stern, the Ark’s enormity is what elicits one’s attention immediately. I couldn’t help but wonder how this project came together. There must have been one challenge after another, one headache after another and setbacks galore. My inability to make weekend plans seemed trite in comparison.

We saw only a fraction of the interior yesterday, so we’re going back today to see more. I’m reminded that God takes care of the details and makes the impossible happen; it’s utterly amazing when one stops to really think about it. This boat, which lacks steerage of any sort, was made for the safety and protection of its occupants, not unlike the basket that shielded the infant Moses. Noah and Moses’ mother put their 100% of their hope in God. That sounds like a great idea to me.

Let your eyes look straight ahead; fix your gaze directly before you. Give careful thought to the paths for your feet and be steadfast in all your ways. Do not turn to the right or the left; keep your foot from evil. ~ Proverbs 4:25-27

Currently we’re at our daughter’s for a couple of weeks, holding down the fort while she takes our grandson to distant travel ballgames. Tonight they are coming home, only to leave again on Wednesday. Her house is small, and weeks ago my husband and I discussed where we might go for a few days so that they could decompress and recover from life on the road. We decided on the Ark Encounter, which is about 250 miles away.

There was a factor or two that made it impossible to make hotel reservations or buy tickets in advance, not to mention the possibility of the trip falling through completely. I’m a planner, and as our time here drew closer, I noticed myself becoming irritated that I wasn’t able to make any plans. But evidently that’s a bane of travel ball—not knowing exactly when the weekend ends because it’s dependent on how well the team does over the course of the tournament. I know that’s how travel ball works, and that made acceptance easier.

I have to remind myself to put my trust in God and things would work out the way they’re supposed to. I’ll just have to wait patiently and see what happens.

Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. ~Philippians 4:6-7

Two of my very good friends celebrated birthdays, yesterday and today. They’ve reached milestones once considered ‘old,’ but not anymore. Not by me, anyway. Both are vibrant, outgoing, positive and future-oriented. I am grateful for having met them by way of RVing, because I can’t imagine how we would’ve met otherwise, considering one lives in Minnesota and the other in Ohio.

Last week I spent a couple of days with another friend who will be celebrating a milestone birthday soon that she’s very excited about. I find her amazing, too. Currently on her way to the Balloon Fiesta in New Mexico by way of Minnesota, she’s a solo RVer who got into this lifestyle for health reasons. We met briefly five years ago on a campground trail in Hot Springs, Arkansas and she left the next morning. Until last week, I hadn’t seen her. I’m grateful for social media in that it keeps me connected to my friends because they are scattered everywhere across the country.

Being an RVer has opened the door to many friendships I probably would not have been blessed with if I had stayed in one place a long time, and I need to remember that when I get down on myself for not having deep roots anywhere. Having friends who are older than me with get up and go is a tremendous motivator, physically and mentally, and their attitude toward life is positive and hopeful. They are awesome role models. I’m grateful for these women, my old friends. Because of them, I don’t view birthdays as getting older, but growing older. That indicates an openness to change and an ability to adapt.

Life is what we make it.

Do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewal of your mind, that by testing you may discern what is the will of God, what is good and acceptable and perfect. ~Romans 12:2