My Lovely Dwelling Place

I Remember Mama Everyone has a story.  What we do, how we see the world, how we react to our circumstances have a great deal to do with our story.  I’ve been thinking about my mom lately.  The things she used to do and say, her life – her story. She would have been ninety-two this year.  She didn’t have an easy life, maybe no one does.  She lived in perilous times, maybe we all do.  I remember an old radio on a shelf that my mom could tune to get French stations.  She would sing loud, with windows open so the neighbors could hear as she sang those French love songs.  The neighbors called her Frenchie, go figure. My mom was born in Le Havre, France.  She had a troubled childhood.  Her father committed a crime before she was born, so her early years were spent with her grandparents under a cloud of shame.  Later when her sister was born, she lived with her mother and step-dad.  She was resentful and gave them trouble...

Soapy Water I like to keep warm soapy water in the sink that way dirty dishes can soak as they are made, making the dishwasher’s job that much easier.  The counters stay clean, and there is a semblance of order in the kitchen.  Many things can be made better by a little warm soapy water.  My sons don’t see the value of warm soapy water.  They prefer mounds of dishes everywhere and escaping before being assigned to clean the kitchen.  Somehow, our three bathrooms are filled to capacity whenever the call to KP is announced.  Cleaning up a mess is not near as much fun as making one. Raising kids is like doing the dishes.  We can wait until problems pile up becoming overwhelming and go hide in the bathroom, or we can apply some warm soapy water and let it soak.  Dealing with problems as they arise, keeping the counters clear, is more conducive to peace.   Sometimes no matter what you do or not do, someone is going to criticize yo...

Oh Well This spring and summer has been cooler and wetter than usual.  Folks are complaining that it’s too cold for the pool and always raining.  Rainy days and Mondays isn’t as comforting as Sunshine on my Shoulders.  Oh well, one can’t control the weather.             I made my own baskets of flowers for the yard this year.  Wave petunias, pretty little flowers whose names elude me, and sweet potato vines – well, the petunias look sickly, and the mystery flowers aren’t growing, but the sweet potato vines are burgeoning into the siding of the house and trailing off the deck.  Oh well, one can’t control how a plant grows.             Sometimes I am a sounding board for those who are angry, discontented, and unhappy in their relationships or in life.  Sometimes I know what to say.  Sometimes I just listen.  I tell myself it le...

Loveliness So, a while ago I started memorizing Scripture.  Not for a truly spiritual reason, but because I’m over fifty and can’t remember jack.  But God’s Word has a way of getting to you, drawing you closer to Him, and making you able to hear His voice.  I was hoping it would help me retain my cognitive skills that my kids keep reminding me I seem to be losing.  Instead it gives me comfort and peace – I’ll take it!  One of the first psalms I memorized was Psalm 84: How lovely are Your dwelling places, O Lord of hosts!  My soul longed and even yearned for the courts of the Lord; my heart and my flesh sing for joy to the living God.  The bird also has found a house, and the swallow a nest for herself, where she may lay her young.  Even Your alters, O Lord of hosts, my King and my God.  How blessed are those who dwell in Your house!  They are ever praising You.  How blessed is the man whose strength is in You,...