Troy, Montana

 

Troy, Montana

Respect for the creatures that endure winter's appearance.

Never ending thin pines waver in the mountain's blow.

A blue jay's lone call trumpets through the valley.

The river harmonizes with the whistling wind.

Fall air penetrates the backbone chilling one entirely.

You can't help to surrender. It's impossible to decipher why.

It's beauty.  It's size.  

The humbling respect fueled by wild conconcted senses.  

You are over stimulated.

Paralyzed in gaze, encaptured.

Your instinct is to bow before the scene.

Alerted and concerned with where you should exist.

Within the clouds?  Taking occupancy on the tips of the pines?

Or down below hiding in the shadows on the forest floor?

Humbled by Nature's performance.

Your pace turns brisk, your eyes are sharpened.

Scents become overwhelming.  Hair stands erect.

Aspen quivers, shivers.

Majestic and supersized.  In an instant, you are minature-ized.

God's humongous sculptures.

Sweet Surrender Sweet Solace

Life's road has it's bumps and blind corners.  And even if at first appearance, the road is beautiful, there is always the next bend.  As life drivers, we must expect mishaps and the unexpected. While I have no intentions to quit driving, I've got to remember, who ultimately is the one in control.  Who is the maker of this vehicle I'm driving?  God is.  He's always with me, carrying me, sitting beside me, and sometimes He takes the wheel, whether I insist or not.  Who do you ultimately want to drive you around?

It's so easy to forget that I am not in control.  It's one of my continuous battles.  I believe, for some, this isn't as hard of a task as it has been for me.  "Handing it over" to God or someone else isn't my repoirtoire.  I'm not comfortable with someone else "doing it" for me.  I fight my pride and the empowerment in taking ownership when I accomplish something. Heck, I fight the urge to take over what should be fun projects with my own kids.  But, when confronted with the concept that I can do everything...?! Well, I feel just plain ridiculous.

I've been asked recently if I believed God could change my daughter's lifestyle.  And despite the obvious immediate answer, I was struck at how my head stuggled to absorb the truth of it.  I think the control tendency in me handicapped me for a moment.  I had to trust that if it's God's will, it will happen.  That meant I had to let go.  I could continue to pray and hope, but God ultimately is the decider, the doer.  The power of faith.  The power of God.  It sounds so cliche', but I have been thinking about this a lot lately.  Such a simple idea, but if I invest my heart into believing what God can do, I'm not as preoccupied with what I can't do.  My heart feels so much lighter just thinking about it.

Even if one might suggest advice, or an opposing direction, one thing I know for sure is to turn directly to God for council.  And if I'm still not sure about what I should do, I need to take a look at my Trust in God inventory.  Have I surrendered my doubts and my fears, to Him?  What a sweet trusting act to give my insecurities to God.  And what a sweet gift He gives to me in return.  Solace in my faith.

Farewell, 2013!

Birthdays have gone

Pieces carry on

Worries are left to mend

Mysteries lie around the bend

As another year goes by

 

Hellos, goodbyes

We’ll manage to try

Still sorting the rearranged

Smiles remain with much to gain

As another year goes by

 

Steps we’ve taken

Some worth makin’

Awakening from sleep,

The senses can be buried deep

As another year goes by

 

The spits and spats

And fancy that’s

Send the stoic into fear

All managing to survive the year

As another year goes by 

 

The snow, the spring

A lazy day swing

A breeze and a grin

We’ll treasure and recall when

As another year goes by

 

Bounds and leaps

Intentions we keep

We’ve stumbled down roads

We’ve plowed and we’ve sowed

As another year goes by

 

We’ve danced and played

Have tried to obey

We’ve lost and learned

Were rewarded and burned

As another year goes by

 

We’ve grown and aged

We’ve turned the page

May we hope to find

Much peace to our minds

As another year goes by

Nicole, 12/09/13

Covered  5/2/13

In a shadow
Waiting for a clearing

Passing time we tire
Clarity awaits

Following clouds
Linger and hover above

Morning or midnight
The sun does exist

Storms brew
Suffocating humidity

Trudging on
Convinced of tomorrow's light

Independence....it holds a lot in it's meaning. One could apply its definition to ways of thinking, doing, handling, coping.....The freedom to make a decision entirely on one's own. Not HAVING to but having the choice to.

"What do you do?"

My husband was born, raised, and grew up in our small town where we live.  I on the other hand had lived in several towns.  He works at a prominent company that employs a good portion of our town's community members.  I don't.  He's well known and he knows a lot of people.  We frequently attend community events, go to company dinners and parties, and quite commonly see people he knows during simple trips to the store.  It's been almost 15 years since I've lived here and even though I've accumulated many "associations" it still amazes me what legacy (little legacy) my husband possesses.

There's those predicaments, those awkward pauses when whoever he's re-associating himself with at the time, the person will turn towards me and ask (as if there's no other question they can come up with); "So, what do you do?"  I can honestly tell you I haven't yet mastered this comeback.  Replying: "I'm a housewife" still struggles to sound dignified.  "I stay home with the kids" for most people doesn't suffice.  But it occurred to me that I should attempt to answer these gnawing, poor judgement minded people by quite simply saying; "I grow things".  As if our self worth is based solely on "what we do?'.  Well, maybe it does.....but is it really the correct question to choose to ask when meeting someone for the first time? 

What we do.  How we reap life's benefits.  What we do with our job in life and how well we do it.  Do we take pride in our accomplishments?  Are our intentions true and just?  Do we value our minds and choices given?  Yes, what I do with my life is important.  I value, I treasure my role.  I enjoy my life and relish all the good and even the bad...afterwards  Are we proud of how we handle challenges and do we overcome them?  Do we appreciate what God has given us and how do we use Him in our lives?  Despite being proud of what I do, it's the task of explaining and conveying it in a way that another would adequately measure the same as I - that is a chore. 

So, the next time when that person for some reason sincerely (or not so sincerely) wants to know "what I do"....I'll simply reply; "I grow things."  If they proceed to ask and really want to know exactly what I grow I'll go on to tell them;  "Oh you know, lots of things.....children, animals, plants, minds, hearts, values, morals,...."

OVERTHOUGHT 6/12/12

Restlessness perseveres

Time consumes more than mind.

Retire the binding thoughts

That remind of the unforgotten.

We race against reason

Controlling theories and assumptions.

Tune out the lurking critic;

Admit to nothing.

Insomnia prevails

For the heart is loud.

Twisted rationale

Blinds realism.

Our vulnerable state

Fails to control yesterday.

THE DAY IS JUST AS MUCH MINE....

AS IT IS YOURS.

So, maybe I'm currently having an internal battle with my inner green eyed monster.  The two of us battle for "time" on occasion.  Envy is not a complimentary attribute so I normally try to avoid having it shine through.  However, there are times when I feel "the day" is not mine.  It is everyone else's.  My day evolves around other people that are around me.  Kind of a warped solar system.  Maybe I'm an odd, unique planet or a moon.

I lose continuously to the game of owning the day.  Between preparing for someone else's event or trip and organizing everyone else's schedules my time is defined by the fragments and crevices that fit (and sometimes don't fit) within those times.

I'm all about giving and selflessness.  I believe you've got to give to even appreciate receiving.  But, sometimes, sometimes....I'd like to be planned around, accommodated to, and be given a day all my own (without the guilt).

Dear Free Spirit,

Life isn't always about floating around, sometimes we need to use our own feet to walk.  Sometimes you have to know where you're going beforehand so that you don't fly headfirst into a brick wall.  And sometimes you have to acknowledge that you're not entirely "free".  Keeping your independent side in balance without losing your sense of honesty nor your humble heart may require the hardest form of self discipline while accomplishing the tasks of life.

The Gift of Life

To watch a movie, in a theatre, just the two of us, alone, is a rare occasion. The rare priviliage presented itself last night. A movie that has trickled into my daily email news-feeds that had touched on a particular passionate topic of mine. I'm acknowledging the movie not to make a political arguement but an excuse to explain my moral stance.

My husband and I took advantage of the limited available viewing of the unfortunately controversial, pro-life movie; "October Baby"................

I am constantly aspiring to find those hidden lessons in life. Aspiring to grow spiritually, closer to God. This film offers a lesson; a raw perspective from an innocent victim. She was never asked her life's value from the one who attempted to steal it. The thief happened to be her birth mother. The value of life is a constant challenge in our crumbling society to defend and debate. It's hard to look life in the eye and defy it. I dare one to try. Without first acknowledging who gave you the gift of life in the first place, you're left with doubting the importance. While incorporating life's importance, the story confronts the truth of consequences and reveals the awards of applying these truths to our lives while applying the power of forgiveness.

I walked away from this movie with a lesson; "If you can forgive, you can let go and can move forward." and to "judge the sin and not the sinner".

If you step away from selfishness and pride, this will enable you to step toward clarity and insight. An open and forgiving heart can also provide you with peace and acceptance. Sin can do many things. Some short lived things and some life changing. But to acknowledge the sin, forgive the sin, and move forward (or work through it) with God on your side.  Attempting to do it any other way would be impossible.

May we all keep our hearts open to lessons, preserve the gift of life, stay true to God, and to his guidance.

"Saturday Shoo Fly Pie"

It must be winter...those comfort foods tend to deafen my appetite's ears to fruit and salads. After being invited to a special family dinner, I thought it would be nice (for me) to use the excuse and try out a recipe. Shoo Fly Pie is one I've only heard about. This was not a dish I've ever tasted nor was ever interested in. It doesn't sound very appetizing but, you've got to admit the name strikes a cord with my creative nature. Known as a common pie used in Pennsylvania Dutch households, it's been used as even a breakfast dish. Yeah, I know pie for breakfast? Well, it should be good right? One of the top ingredients is molasses (my sister's nemesis), which admittingly, my nose buds are NOT fond of the smell. Despite the all of it's deterrring points, the combination of my husband's love of my renown crust, and my passion for baking, this project came forth with no reason at all other than a wild hair let loose on a Saturday......

First on the pie agenda...bring on the pie crust!!

Tools of the trade; crisco, ice water, a skill for accurate measuring, parchment paper, and an eye for those little combined balls of shortening, salt and water. A non-stick rolling pin is a bonus too. These also come in handy when trying to keep your husband in line!!

You're ready to roll!! Parchment paper has become a staple of mine while making a pie. I'm reminded of how much so when caught in the middle of pie-making with only inches of paper left on the roll. It's a must when rolling your crust and transferring it to your pie dish.

Other than a lot of molasses, an egg, some hot water, and baking soda there's not much to the bottom layer of this pie. The crumbly sweet mixture of shortening, flour and brown sugar tops the "molasses mountain" complimenting the unique goodness.

The end of the story? I brought it as my offering plea for being invited to dinner and it was welcomed with curiousity and compliments. Though not a big hit with the youngins' the bigger youngin' appreciated the not-so-traditional pie that mom made.

You live, you eat, you learn. No regrets on this one.

Dignified

How do they do it?! Head held high, wearing heeled shoes, wheeling a stroller down the mall isle...they do it so perfectly....You know the ones. You can't help but wonder how they ever found time to put their outfit together let alone shop for it. Even the stroller doesn't have old food grounded into it's creases - where did they find time to clean it?

I could have half of a day to prepare for an outing and still inevitably have a button missing on my shirt or forget the baby wipes. I'd like to think that I'm all about preparation and keen in anticipating the unforeseen. I guess I'll accept that it's impossible to hide every little flaw. Maybe others have flaws easier to look over. I'll accept that life throws blow-outs (yes, even the poopy ones) and it is full of surprises - ones that couldn't have been prevented or controlled. Through it all, concealed or obvious, I will hold my head high with the un-noticed stain on my shirt and milk spilled in my purse. I'm determined to look dignified in my well meaning attempt.

There's something about zuchinni bread.

There's something about two loaves of zucchini bread baking in the oven. The sweet luster of a hot day - it's aroma seeping from the oven's door. A counter signifying an hours worth of preparation. A used grater, a flour-dusted kitchen aid mixer, and an assortment of measuring cups needing to be washed. Usually in the middle of summer, a favorite time of mine, I find myself in zucchini's midst. Years ago I started the habit of creating zucchini bread with summer's bounty not knowing at the time that it would only aide in the comfort of the season's tradition years later. I've changed my recipe up a bit - adding whole wheat and cacao chips but it still requires a couple of hours in the morning or afternoon, some basic ingredients, a garden's gem, and a dash of reminisce.

Tick - 2010

Drilling one instant, and surrendering the next
This underlying sound annoys the soul.

Attempting to interpret, we still lack in comprehension
Suffering silently with the denial of it’s toll.

For it hides it’s identity in our passion
And enlightens our path like a candle’s wick

We plug through with drive and determination
Fueled by whatever makes us “tick”.

Infallibly Perfect

Perfect. She was a perfect, sweet, little dog that managed to squeeze into my heart of denial.

Her story was undeniably heart breaking. She was a drop off. Her puppy was hit by a car. She had drug her poor, dead puppy off the road to safety. She guarded it pathetically until I buried the lifeless body that had cemented her to one spot for two days.

She was just an other stray passing through. At least that's what I told myself, hoping all the while that she really did belong to somebody. But when I discovered her pup, I put all the pieces together. It was when I cried in that very spot of discovery that I admitted to myself she was going to need my help.

She became my "project". I had her spayed, I printed fliers, I placed an ad. I sent emails; anything to get the word out. I tried to keep my distance. During this duration, she followed me, she "talked" to me (hence her name, Whinney), and promised me with her eyes, she'd do anything if I asked her. At first she was reluctant to trust me, she had gone through a lot. But, her confidance grew. Over time she grew content and then happy; her true personality began to shine. She always came when I called even when in the middle of a rabbit hunt. And if I was outside, she was always three bounds away.

I gave up after the third attempt of trying to keep her contained. After the dog run and the chicken wire, I realized she wasn't going anywhere and her preferred spot was the welcome door mat. Her eye would always be on the window, or her ear on the sound of the front screen door. Waiting for me.

Torn between claiming her as mine and wanting someone to claim her, I felt she was mine, I relished her devotion. For over a month it went on like this. I got a couple of interested callers but they never followed through. This only made it easier to tease myself into thinking that maybe she would be here all summer. Maybe she could end up being our "front yard dog". But, I had three dogs. She couldn't stay. Yet, her imprint grew deeper.

She developed a "skip" when she was excited, always pleased when we were outdoors. Twice daily I'd round the corner to feed the sheep and I'd hear her bounding just behind me or jumping up to wet my hand with her nose - just to let me know she was there.

And then I received a phone call. Someone sincerely was interested in her. Someone who was looking for a dog, a friend for an older, lonely gentleman. I got off the phone ashamed I wasn't more happy.

Before meeting them, I was skeptical and critical. In fact, I told the lady on the phone that; "it would have to be a perfect fit". What was I doing?! Here I had been working over a month to find this dog a home and I was jeopardizing her chance. Yet, somehow I let my guard down and my heart was doing the thinking.

I brought her to her new home on a Friday morning. The man was genuinely hooked on her. He had the fenced yard, the dog bed, the dog kennel...the works. I couldn't argue the situation. It was perfect.

I cried the whole way home. I told my husband; "I feel like I just gave my dog away." It took me two days to let go of the heaviness I carried inside. What dawned on me was that she wasn't my dog to begin with. I served as her stepping stone to her real home, her new chance. My role wasn't insignificant nor irreplaceable. This all helps with the ache that still lingers.

I still hear her bounding up behind me. It took me a week just to not turn and look for her. She was just a mutt, passing through but I'm glad she passed through. I got to be her "friend" from May 2nd until June 10th. I helped her heal and got her ready for what was to come. Her purpose now is to be a devoted friend to someone who needs her. I believe she will serve that purpose wholeheartedly

I've learned that my heart directs well...most of the time. And even though it may not think entirely with clarity, I'm glad that it has felt what it has felt. I'd do it all again.

Seventeen years of parenthood

She was only two years old when I questioned if I had the capabilities of raising her. She started to get sassy and sneaky. She was independent and hard to entertain, even then. When she was born I was naive almost over confidant that "it wasn't that hard" to feed and change diapers. Now, she's seventeen and it's gone way beyond the baby powder. I've had seventeen years to perfect my doubts and my weak areas that she's created.

I still don't think my margin of parent error has gotten any more narrow. I've only improved how I play the part. I'm able to hold my shoulders more square when handling her teenage miffs with trouble. I'm determined to not take things personal when she blatantly defies my concern. I still question if I've made the right decisions and directed her down the right paths. Still possessing the same old tools I began with, they're still being used just a little worn and modified. I've become great at nodding and smiling when advice floats my way, but really I do what I can live with. Veteran parents are really good at coming across as right; but maybe we all just get cocky with time.

I'd like to say one down, three to go. But I don't have any of this "down". And as long as they're mine, I'll still be "going" down that road of parenthood with no end.

The grass is greener....

Despite driving over 70 mph on the freeway, I couldn't help but notice this very large headed cow with it's head stuck tightly between the wires of a fence. This black headed, ear tagged, ruminant was convinced that whatever was on the other side of it's boundary was worth the risk of looking undignified. Reaching, neck stretched it was desperately trying to reach something....maybe a greener blade of grass.

It was comical yet revealing of us creatures. Ever so preoccupied with what we'd like to have but just...can't....reach.

Those times where we tend to compare our situation, our livelihood with others. Getting wrapped up in others' trophies and wanting to swap our own treasures we neglect to be thankful for - for something bigger and better.

Is it wrong to want more? I was once told that very rarely are your choices wrong if it doesn't threaten your relationship with God. Now, there's a tricky concept to apply. Us humans have become very good at justifying our wants. There's a thin line that deciphers what motivates us. Even then we can be swayed by our "selfish needs" than a true need.

So, what was empowering that pathetic cow? His appetite, or his eye for quality chow? Perhaps it was the mere drive of survival.

Borrowed Time

Caught up in my daily chores, I can't help but feel like I'm continually asking "time" for favors. Timing my tasks in between life's demands and anticipations. I attempt to fit in all of the day's (my) goals within a certain time period. It occurred to me that the concept of "borrowed time" could easily be applied to how I approach daily life.

I was sweeping the crumbs under the table while planning to accomplish just a few more things before my youngest squeals and demands my attention. Rushing to get just a few more things done before my boys ask when dinner is ready. And finishing it all before my husband comes home and our busy evening begins. All I wanted was to complete what I had set out to do. Yet, all the while I was so preoccupied that at any moment something or someone was going to tell me suddenly to "STOP". Then, I'd have to reluctantly hand over my keys and pull over.

I compare those too common of moments to dreams in which I run....but very slowly. I'm having to get somewhere and I'm in a hurry but I'm in slow motion, dragging physically, but mentally I'm speeding.

I acknowledge that I can't expect for time to stop, but that doesn't prevent me from trying to beat it. Somehow I feel indebted to time, humbled by it's power. Whatever time I'm "given" seems to be unappreciated for I'm in a hurry to take advantage. Like a library book, I tend to be preoccupied with how long it's lended to me and lose the opportunity to relish the ownership. Asking time to lend me some more isn't realistic but I manage to justify my attempt to conquer it.

Despite whatever I accomplish, many moments are overlooked. I tend to be caught up in determination to finish something to notice. No matter how many completed projects and shiny floors, I need to slow down and re-prioritize my continuing struggle. To make a difference, I must approach the task at hand as if I'm accomplishing the objective in good time not borrowed time.

Mounting anger

We've all "lost it" at one time or another. Patience seems to swell and then bursts at a heightened state. I've watched people often possess this unfailing determination to keep their anger under control. And yet there are others who blow up at the slightest build up. So, where do I fit in? Believe me this is one subject I've analyzed time and time again about myself. Having been (and who I'd like to describe myself as being now) a very mild mannered person whom had been trodded on many of occasions. I've become convinced I have a lot of tolerance but not a lot of patience. Unfortunately, I tend to let things slide for awhile and reveal my disappovement when most people's defenses are down. Then BOOM I take all by surprise sometimes even myself! I guess it's my own way of standing up for who I used to be. How do we distinguish what we can justify and catagorize as regret?

Patience and tolerance.....What's the difference? Maybe there is no significant difference. I'd like to think that tolerance is easier to practice. Tolerating your environment, and people's actions. But, patience seems to require more of a personal approach. Risking emotions and playing the odds of an un-anticipated possiblity of a disappointment. I fear for myself that more things in my life will require more patience than tolerance. For if we apply patience and wait - things may work out, people come to their senses, the bad times pass...

However, I'd like to think that mounting anger results in the drive of a powerful act. A building mountain that forms into a volcano. And if we manage it well and use it in a controlled manner things get done. Points get across. And we no longer carry that growing fire that eats us up inside.

And then there are those (myself included) that lose it, hair frizzled, thier spit flying, eyes dialated, throwing in some unnecessary language, and end up sputtering until thier lips are dry. But, hey at least they don't have to carry a hot head anymore and whoever made them upset will think twice NEXT time. Justifiable? Regrets? We usually don't find out until after the explosion.

The Domino Effect

Have you ever noticed there are waves of bad luck? Perhaps a passing trend of bad news or carma that occasionally cross your path? Recently, I've had news of deaths, suicides, and broken spirits. Diagnosis of cancer, loss of loved ones, and people who end thier dilemas by taking their lives.

I've often wondered if one sole mishap could possibly affect another and a "domino effect" occurs by equally spreading momentum to the next subject in the way. Isn't life odd? How, without thinking, we are affected by our environment. The sounds, the visions, our feelings in which we emerse ourselves in daily can either inspire, motivate, disillusion, innfluence us without us being aware. We're oblivious to rationale and common sense. It's almost like we surrender to life's toll.

One bad instance when one falls, taking down another with it's energy. Pulling, weighting down the next in line. How do we avoid the inevitable? Perhaps we need to step out of line. Possibly taking a couple steps back to break the chain. Or maybe we need to consider that we were in the wrong line to begin with.