What's normal any more?

I have been wanting to write something for over a month, but life hasn't exactly been normal. To say this has been a summer of discovery and loss would be an understatement. I have lost five friends the past two months and have provide family luncheons after three of their funerals. I look out my bedroom window many times each day to see the vacant house of my neighbor. She was the last one to leave and died nine days ago--two days before her eightieth birthday. Not that I wish she was still here. She had been on oxygen and unable to leave her house for anything besides doctor appointments and family activities for several years. But there was something comforting about having her near. 

Perhaps it was only seeing her decline and being grateful that I could still get around and do all that was needed of me. But the last few days have made me fully aware of how fragile life is and how rapidly my own existence in this sphere is coming to an end. I mentioned that to my son yesterday when he called to talk about his woes. When I reminded him that I would be seventy-seven in two months and was starting to feel my age, he just became silent. I suppose children always expect their parents to be around, even if they only visit them on a very occasional basis.

But the sorrow I feel inside for the things I have left undone and those that may never see fruition leave a heaviness in my heart that may never heal. I said in my last blog that I was editing my life history and it was the only thing I could think of that no one else but myself could do. Well, that editing is finished now, but I am almost afraid to prepare it for publication. Finishing it means all I have left is putting my final wishes on paper so my son and daughter will not have as many decisions to make. My burial plot beside my mother and father has been secured, and I have a policy that will cover my funeral expenses. It seems rather sad to be thinking about that, but I would caution anyone reading this that is never too soon to start preparing for death. Whenever it comes it will be unexpected. 

At least that is what I discovered this summer. Three of the sisters I lost had cancer, but only one of them had time to prepare. And even the ones with Alzheimer's and lung issues thought they had more time than they did. So I guess I can claim melancholia as part of having a not-so-fun summer.

But there has also been added trauma because my ex-husband refuses to take responsibility for his actions that have spanned over thirty years. I get that he doesn't want to spend the rest of his life in prison, but after all the little girls he has hurt, he needs incarceration. These beautiful girls are young women now and need to know that at least partial justice has been served. Not that it will take away of the scars he left. Those will never go away. But at least my own granddaughter will no longer be terrified of seeing him unexpectedly again.

Life is definitely not for the fainthearted, and few people end up where they expected to be. But I suppose in the long run we are exactly where we need to be. I said that to my eighty-two year old friend last night. Every time I talk to her she complains about her aches and pains and says she doesn't think she will be here much longer. Guess I am still the fighter I was a child. I want to see my flowers come up again next spring, write another book, and see how many people I can help when they need it. I'm not scared of dying, but I am certainly not ready for it yet.

Nor am I ready for most of the news articles put out by Fox, Newsmax or even the Blaze. They are the most reliable news outlets since mainstream media is nothing but opinion and bashing Trump. I know we are in the eleventh hour before the Savior's return and a lot of stuff must happen before then, but I certainly never expected to see things happening so fast when it comes to the destruction of our nation.

Just yesterday I read three stories that seemed almost unbelievable until I remembered that Satan has been trying to destroy our country from within since long before our constitution was ever signed. And he isn't even hiding any more. He has plenty of willing participants to do the evil work for him. I will relate each of them briefly in case you missed seeing them. 

In the first one, the present leader of the Black Panthers in Washington D.C. was calling all the most notorious gang bangers and aggressive criminals to a meeting where they would discuss plans for stopping Trump's crackdown on crime in the city. They claimed they had rights to do as liked and the law would be no deterrent.

The second was about Tom Kaine, democrat senator from Virginia. He has issues with the Declaration of Independence where it says that "all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights. . . . ." He claims nothing about our country's foundation involved God. The government makes the laws and grants rights, not a supreme being. He wants the government to be in complete control like it is in communist countries. No wonder the 'D's' support Zohran Mamdani who is running for mayor of New York City. Mr. Mamdani has no problem saying he is in full support of communism.

The last was President Trump saying that he would be speaking at the Museum of the Bible Religious Library as the greatest defender of people of faith in modern history. And sad as it is, I believe he is right. He is certainly the only one who will speak out and defend religions of all the faithful, regardless of the doctrine involved. 

I suppose I feel somewhat shell-shocked after reading stories like that. I love our country and all that it stand for, and my heart is saddened every time I hear, or read about, someone who is trying to destroy all that I hold dear. But I take comfort in the fact that the war that began in Heaven will be won in the end. There will just be a few great battles before then, and I want to be fighting with the right army--the Army of God. 

I no longer believe in party affiliation. This is a battle between good and evil and there are plenty of people on both sides who do not want to see our country become like every other nation on earth. America was founded by God and was given both a promise and a blessing, but if we turn away from him as a nation we forfeit everything.  We must stand tall and unafraid and be willing to let our voices be heard when defending truth and righteousness.

I was aghast at the vilified way Robert Kennedy was attacked yesterday by the rest of the senators for doing his job in trying to make America Healthy Again. We have been lied to by big pharma, doctors, the wealthy elite and the CDC for generations just so they could get richer and make the rest of us sicker. Hopefully, that will change if we collectively throw our weight behind those individuals who are trying to turn things around and are being blocked by paid agitators and corrupt judges every step of the way. 

Our country really is too great to lose. And for as long as I live I will fight for our protection as Christians and all the other things I so greatly value. I'm hoping everyone who reads this will feel the same way and vote for people who believe as they do, not because they belong to a certain party.

I'm feeling much better now that I have expressed some of my own woes. It's getting a little cooler here and soon I will not have to water my flowers each day. I am ready for fall and a little more time at my computer writing about the things I care most about. I will let you know when my life story has been sent to be published. It will be a huge accomplishment and a great load off my mind because it is the only thing someone else cannot do for me. Having completed it gives me a huge sense of fulfillment.

And it could do the same for you. Our posterity needs to know more than just what we did. They need to know how we lived, the struggles we fought, our lost dreams, greatest hopes and the belief system that got us through everything. Who knows, our story might even bring a laugh or two. Something that is greatly needed in today's very complex and frustrating world.

Life Just Keeps Getting More Complex

I find it hard to believe that summer is half over and I haven't written anything for nearly three months. I have lots of excuses that both start and end with a combination of depression and anxiety regarding both my own life and the outrageously horrible things that are still going on in our country and the world at large. My heart aches for all those persons who have been caught in the crosshairs of the evil elite and their puppets and cronies who have no regard for anyone or anything--other than obtaining more power and money as they continue their designs for world dominance and reducing the number of persons living on the earth. 

Some of the things I have heard and read the past couple of months are so far outside my realm of reason, morality and understanding that I am sometimes too exhausted to do anything more than sit in a chair and become part of the walking zombies who have been conditioned and brainwashed to a point of inactivity and near surrender. But I know inside that giving in or giving up is not in my nature. I admire President Trump and the brave and undaunted patriots too much to relinquish control to a radial agenda meant to destroy what is left of the greatest nation on earth. They are doing what I wished I had the means, knowledge and courage to do myself. 

But common sense tells me that there's nothing I can do personally to solve any of the global drama--other than praying for a change of heart in the world leaders who seem so intent on continuing with their diabolical plans. And those prayers include the safety and solace of all the innocent victims who may never find justice in this life. I thought the DEW attack that caused the Maui fires and the weather-manipulated flooding that took out so much of North Carolina and allowed certain politicians to purchase stock in a profitable mine were heinous enough. But the attack on the Christian Girl's Camp in Texas on the Fourth of July was an all-time low for those Satan worshipers whose only desire is not to get caught, regardless of all the laws broken and lives lost.

As a Christian, I know how lucky I am to have been born in the United States of America under the only form of government that will protect my freedoms and allow me to build a good life as I pursue my inner most dreams. But I also recognize the burden I share with the rest of my fellow American citizens in protecting those same rights for future generations who love this country as much as I do. It pains me greatly to know that our divinely inspired constitution is literally hanging by a thread because it has been abused and mocked for so many decades.

Nonetheless, I have great hope that we as Christians--regardless of church affiliation and doctrines taught--will continue to stand together as we did when getting President Trump elected in this fight between good and evil. I no longer see two political parties in America, even though they still exist. I just see evil viruses good, and I want to be on the right side always.

I love what William George Jordan once wrote. "Into the hands of every individual is given a marvelous power for good or evil--the silent, unconscious, unseen influence of his life. This is simply the constant radiation of what man really is, not what he pretends to be. Every man, by his mere living, is radiating sympathy, or sorrow, or morbidness, or cynicism, or happiness, or hope, or any of a hundred other qualities. Life is a state of constant radiation and absorption: to exist is to radiate; to exist is to be the recipient of radiation.

"Man cannot escape for one moment from this radiation of his character, this constant weakening or strengthening of others. He cannot evade the responsibility  by saying it is an unconscious influence. He can select the qualities that he will permit to be radiated. He can cultivate sweetness, calmness, trust, generosity, truth, justice, loyalty, nobility--make them virtually active in his character--and by these qualities he will constantly affect the world."

I like believing that positive qualities make a huge difference on society--one person at a time. I've had several experiences over the past few months that have caused me to dig deep within myself in serving others. The first came when a sister in my community, who is only a few months older than me, was dying from conditions related to Alzheimers. 

Now, I have never been one who tolerates being around ill people well, but as part of my church assignment it was my duty to help the family through this struggle. I got to sit with her when she was still well enough to kiss the back of my hand, even though she could no longer express a complete thought. I helped her husband situate her clothing, put medicine on her bed sores and wipe the spittle from the corners of her mouth. I sat with her body after her spirit had passed to the life beyond and tried to comfort her Autistic son. I was in charge of the funeral luncheon for the family. All of these things were hard for me, but I did them anyway and found joy in being of service. 

But that was not my only chance to let my light shine while helping someone who was struggling. I got to be a support for a family whose youngest son, age nine, went through four surgeries in the same amount of moths to have his rectum removed and a new one constructed. I got to weed the front flowerbeds of a sister who had a breast removed due to cancer and was going through both chemo and radiation. I made it to the hospital in time to say goodbye to a friend in a coma who died a few hours later from colon cancer that had spread throughout her body. And I got to be there for another family whose wife and mother passed away from breast cancer. I had never met any of them before, but it was a very humbling experience trying to offer what help and comfort I could.

Perhaps being part of so many sad experiences in such a short amount of time was the basis for my recent state of depression and anxiety because I saw how rapidly and completely life can change almost in the blink of an eye. But I've also been working on my life history--as promised in my New Year Resolution for 2025. Reviewing my past and putting it into a form that might encourage and help my posterity and other family members has been neither fun nor easy. Like mentioned in at least one previous post, I have almost total memory loss throughout most of my life. I've often thought of that as being a huge blessing, but not when it comes to committing anything of a personal nature to paper. My only saving graces were the journal I kept quite sporadically for a few years while my children were growing up and the scrapbooks I put together several years ago depicting my childhood and college years. But if I can keep going, I should be finished with it by the end of the year. 

Anyway, I must be turning a corner in my emotional state because I was able to write something tonight. I'm not sure it makes much sense, but then that would simply mirror how I feel about what is going on in both our country and the world right now. I wake up most mornings not knowing who or what to believe. But I do know what sources I can trust for the most acurate information, and not one of them is the garbage spewed out by the mainstream media since they're all controlled by the same persons.

I do know, however, that God is in charge. This is His country, founded on his laws, and he will not allow it to be destroyed, unless we willingly refuse to follow him. That gives me comfort and hope because Christ had few true followers when he was on the earth, and yet what he did for us is charity in its purest form. He died that we might live again. My trials may seem like mountains at times, but with our Savior walking beside me, and even carrying me when my strength falters, I can survive whatever comes with both hope and joy. And I can share those truths with others because I know how this whole story will end. God will prevail and those of us on his side will reap the most amazing eternal blessings. 

Life Keeps Getting in the Way

I don't know about any of you, but life seems to be moving so fast I never accomplish anywhere near as much as I wish I could--mostly because I don't have the energy or the desire to push myself like I once did. However, I am very grateful to report that my eye surgery last month was a compete success, but not without a few drawbacks that kept me pretty much homebound for ten days. To keep the bruising and swelling down, I had to keep an ice pack on it for 15 minutes out of every hour for the first three days. That worked miracles since there was no raccoon eye to deal with, but I couldn't bend over for a week so I had to sleep in one of my recliners. Nonetheless, that proved to be another blessing because it kept my airway open when my allergies decided to hit with their usual spring vengeance.

When unexpected setbacks, like a sudden eye operation without warning, are coupled with so many injustices and the truly horrific things going on in the world today it is often difficult to remain optimistic and see the good that almost surprisingly is all around us. Three women in my neighborhood have been diagnosed with breast cancer this year, and a nine year-old boy had his rectum removed after nearly two months in the hospital. He has two more surgeries before the entire process is complete, hopefully by mid-summer. 

Now you may ask what is joyful about any of those heart wrenching situations since one or more may not turn out as hoped. But as I've tried to offer what help and comfort I could, I've been totally amazed at the resiliency, faith and understanding so many wonderfully, faithful Christians possess. Their fighting spirit and willingness to accept what is happening without blaming God for their struggles is truly awe-inspiring. And it has certainly made me reflect on what my attitude would be if I was asked to make a similar terrifying and uncertain journey. 

But I read something this morning that gave me a great deal of hope and a much different perspective when it comes to the aftermath of even the most horrendous disasters. It had to do with 9-11--a day that will never be forgotten by any true American. It hit really close to my heart because my daughter's senior class president, Brady Howell, was killed inside the pentagon that day. I had known him since he was child, and he had grown into one of the most talented and spiritual young men I have ever known. The author wasn't named, but it went this way.

"I know where my God was the morning of September 11, 2001. He was very busy. First of all, he was trying to discourage anyone from taking this flight. Those four flights together [could have] held over a 1000 passengers, [but] there were only 266 aboard. He was on four commercial flights giving terrified passengers the ability to stay calm. Not one of the family members who was called by a loved one on one of the hijacked planes said that passengers were screaming in the background. On one flight he was giving strength to passengers to try to overtake the hijackers. He was trying to create obstacles for employees at the World Trade Center (so they wouldn't be at work). After all, only around 20,000 were at the towers when the first jet hit. Since the buildings holds over 50,000 workers, that was a miracle in itself. How many of the people who were employed at the World Trade Center told the media that they were late for work or had traffic delays? He (God) was holding up two 110-story buildings so that (four-fifths) of the workers could get out."

Some mighty good food for thought in that paragraph, especially for those of us who have little idea what is really going on in the world because the news coming from mainstream media is meant to frighten us into compliance or outright deceive us. But my belief in God, and his glorious plans for the return of his only begotten Son, Jesus Christ, helps me remain focused on what is truly most important if I want to return to my eternal home one day. The trust I have in knowing things are unfolding as they must is beautifully captured in an analogy written by Boyd K. Packer.

"Imagine you are attending a football game. The teams seem evenly matched. One team has been trained to follow the rules, the other, to do just the opposite. They are committed to cheat and disobey every rule of sportsmanlike conduct.

"While the game ends in a tie, it is determined that it must continue until one side wins decisively.

"Soon the field is a quagmire.

 "Players on both sides are being ground into he mud. The cheating of the opposing team turns to brutality.

"Players are carried off the field. Some have been injured critically; others, it is whispered, fatally. It ceases to become a game and becomes a battle.

"You become very frustrated and upset. 'Why let this go one? Neither team can win. It must be stopped.'

"Imagine that you confront the sponsor of the game and demand that he stop this useless, futile battle. You say it is senseless and without purpose. Has he no regard at all for the players?

"He calmly replies that he will not stop the game. You are mistaken. There is a great purpose in it. You have not understood.

"He tells you that this is not a spectator sport--it is for the participants. It is for their sake that he permits the game to continue. Great benefits may come to them because of the challenges they face.

"He points to the players sitting on the bench, suited up, eager to enter the game. 'When each one of them has been in, when each has met the day for which he has prepared so long and trained so hard, then, and only then, will I call the game.'

"Until then, it may not matter which team seems to be ahead. The present score is really not crucial. There are games within games, you know. Whatever is happening to the team, each player will have his day.

"Those players on the team that keep the rules will not be eternally disadvantaged by the appearance that their team somehow always seems to be losing.

"In the field of destiny, no team or player will be eternally disadvantaged because they keep the rules. They may be cornered or misused, even defeated for a time. But individual players on that team, regardless of what appears on the score-board, may already be victorious.

"Each player will have a test sufficient to his needs; how each responds is the test.

"When the game is finally over, you or they will see purpose in it all, may even express gratitude for having been on the field during the darkest part of the contest."

He concluded the parable by saying, "I do not think the Lord is quite so hopeless about what's going on in the world as we are. He could put a stop to all of it any moment. But He will not! Not until every player has a chance to meet the test for which we were preparing before the world was, before we came into mortality."

How really blessed we are to be living on the earth during these amazing times when the lines between good and evil are being so clearly drawn. I marvel each day at how some people are so completely unable to see them, but am so grateful for the knowledge and clarity I have been given. I will be going to see a neighbor who is dying of Alzheimer's in a few minutes. She can only ingest liquids now, doesn't know who anyone is and sleeps for 17 to 22 hours each day, but I know her spirit will find comfort in knowing I am there.

May we see the good each day brings and count as one of our greatest blessings that we have the chance to complete the mission God provided for us. I look forward to each sunrise because I know my Heavenly Father is in charge and good will eventually prevail over all the evilness in the world today. 

  

Each Day is a New Beginning

Spring is definitely on it's way. I see it in the occasional blue sky and gentle rain and in the yellow and purple crocus that are sticking their little heads through the cold soil. It lifts my heart and brings renewed hope that some of the darkness in the world will soon turn to more laughter, light, love of our fellowmen, women and children and especially our God. 

January and February in the top of the Rocky Mountains brought far less moisture than usual this year, except for the days I needed to be on the ever under-construction freeway. The blizzards would descend with a furry upon demarcation lines in the road's surface that were always changing. And in my rather outdated opinion--since I am no longer exactly young--inattentive and careless driver's were taking too many needless chances that endangered lives and often caused major damage for their fellow travelers. 

I hated leaving my home and took great comfort in knowing that I had a few weeks to finish winter projects. But the beginning of 2025 was far from stress free or enjoyable. January began with my yearly UTI that took me to my friendly Insta care facility where I found that the doctor I had almost enjoyed seeing was no longer there. He had been lighthearted, straight forward and knowledgable. The one I saw this time seemed even older than me, and his bedside manner left something to be desired. But I got the antibiotic I needed and was grateful just knowing I would be feeling better within twenty-four hours.

But that relief didn't last long because on February 8, a friend--whose big Husky dog I had foolishly let come into my home so we could visit while she was taking him on his morning walk--started scratching more furiously than usual. Now I am horribly allergic to both dogs and cats so I knew I was taking a risk, but my friend and I had spent most of January reading and discussing self-help books in hopes of being better able to view some of our childhood trauma more clearly and learning how to put some of it to rest and so we could get on with living.

To make a long story less cumbersome, I got a piece of his hair in my right eye. Two days later the entire eyelid was bright red and very swollen. So I went back to Insta care to see if the hair had gotten lodged under my eyelid because it hurt something awful. The same doctor was there and after I explained what happened, he said it looked like I now had a horrible infection. He gave me a different oral antibiotic, along with an antibiotic eye drop and another eye drop to help the swelling go down. I walked away from the pharmacy feeling rather dejected after spending $130 that had not been part of my budget. 

My eye started to look somewhat better, but two days after the prescription ran out it started to swell up again. But this time there was a big, red lump growing on the surface of my eyelid and my vision was blurry. It wasn't a stye because I'd had one of those before, so I went back to Insta care. This time I got a young, female doctor who, when I showed her the pictures I had been keeping of my eye on my phone, said it was an allergic reaction. She felt confident that a course of steroids would fix me right up.

I wish that had been true. But the minute I was through with the steroids the swelling and discoloration came right back. I was getting nowhere fast seeing regular doctors, so I tried to make an appointment with the one who took care of my eye. But they're very busy people, and the earliest he could see me was three weeks out. By this time I had been dealing with this ugly ordeal for a month and was tired of looking like a freak and having people stare at me whenever I had to be out in public. So I reached out to another friend whom I thought might be able to help.

While I was waiting for a return text, I went to get my allergy shots and told the nurse what I had been going through. She took one look at my eye and said she wanted the allergy doctor to look at it before giving me any injections. He did, but he just gave me a prescription for another antibiotic and told me to call him on Monday if it wasn't doing any better. 

I was at my wit's end by the time I talked to my friend later that day. I had now seen three doctors--each with a different diagnosis and another round of pills. I knew all that medication was not good for me, but I did not want to lose my eyesight or continue looking like some pitiful creature from some horror movie. It was both upsetting and embarrassing because, even at seventy-six, I want to look my best around other people. 

When my friend told me there was an eyelid specialist thirty minutes away, I was both hopeful and amazed because I had never heard of such a thing before. But I took the number and gave them a call. Heavenly Father was really looking out for me because the receptionist said they'd just had a cancellation for the next Tuesday at 7:40 in the morning. I would have been there if it had been in the middle of the night. All I wanted was to look somewhat normal again. 

The next few days I scoured the Internet, and before I even went to the appointment with the specialist I knew what was wrong. Fortunately, I had thrown the last round of antibiotics away after three tablets because I was starting to feel like my heart was going to explode. It might have just been my nerves. But as my system began to clear, my body's natural ability to heal was able to kick in and a huge white pocket was forming over the ugly--and now very hard--red lump. 

The eyelid specialist confirmed my suspicion about a condition called Chalasia where an oil gland gets clogged and can't drain. He said it may have started with the dog hair, but it could just as easily been a coincidence. I don't really believe in coincidences, especially because of the timing, but by making a small incision, he was able to drain some of the fluid. He wasn't able to get as much of the core as hoped, so for the last ten days I've been putting hot rice packs on my eye 4 times a day, for twenty minutes and using a special ointment morning and night.

It seems like that takes most of my day, but I will go back next week to see if surgery is required, or if I will be performing the same daily routine for the next six months to a year. That's how long this condition can take to reverse without intervention. I'm not sure which prognosis sounds best right now. Neither is ideal. But life goes on and new challenges occur on a daily basis.

Right now, I am waiting for my son's phone call as to where things now stand after bringing charges against my ex-husband for molesting my granddaughter and three other young girls from his wife's family. That's all we can verify right now, but this needy, nutty woman is standing by him and has willingly turned against all of her children, grandchildren and siblings to do it. I will never understand how anyone who has been a mother can do that, but then I'm surprised most every day by the evilness in our world today.

Anyway, my son, daughter-in-law and granddaughter are meeting with the district attorney, their lawyer and a young woman who went through a similar horrendous experience with a family member to learn what to expect during the preliminary trial on April 3. I'm extremely anxious about what will happen in front of that judge, and pray continually that my ex will take responsibility for his actions and accept the plea deal so no one will have to testify. But like my son, I'm not so sure his pride will allow him to. The success of his life has always been measured by others perception of him, and I doubt that will change now. He'll go down fighting or not at all. 

But I take comfort in knowing that God lives, he is the only true judge, and he does answer prayers--even if we don't always recognize them. 

While it goes without saying that writing blogs has been hard for me lately, it's not just because my health issues have kept me distracted and in a less than positive mood. My mind has been swirling in a hundred different directions almost daily because I am determined to keep my single New Year's resolution. I have been feverishly working on my life history since it's the one thing only I can do. Every other role I play can be filled by someone else if I am not around.

I want my posterity, along with the rest of my family and friends, to better understand the experiences that have made me who I am, and the source I have always turned to for strength and help during my darkest hours. Each of us have a unique story that only we can tell, and I am so grateful Heavenly Father is helping me write mine now. I feel his guidance so often as I try to put into words what is in my heart without casting blame on others who have their own struggles to deal with.

I'll end by saying that it's been a good day. The sun finally came out and I was able to visit an elderly friend who is experiencing acute back pain and take her some home-baked goodies. I do believe in angels. They surround us daily, and I want to be that angel for someone else. It might take some of my time when I could be doing something else, but I always feel so much lighter inside after rendering even the smallest act of kindness. What a privilege it is to serve others and know that I am trying to follow in my Savior's footsteps. 

Can You Breath Again?

What a historic day we are living through. I hope everyone listened to President Trump's Inaugural Address--preferably without the biased, liberal commentary of the deep state left. Other than on a few occasions like this, I am glad I have nothing but rabbit ears for television viewing. Main stream media provides little wholesome viewing and their deranged commentaries on the news do nothing but cause disinformation and globalists ideals to spread to the unsuspecting and uninformed. 

If I ever have a few moments when I want to let my mind go blank and just veg, I put in a DVD of an inspirational movie or an old tv series that isn't laced with media propaganda. However, I have discovered that some of the television series I thought were nothing but the creative genius of writers were really contrived glimpses into the future the globalist elites and deep state had in mind for us--one filled with terrorist activities, manmade disasters that displace our citizens with no relief or recourse, civil unrest, human and drug trafficking, unrelenting war and crime-ridden cities--to name just a few.

It made my heart hurt during my hour or so of viewing as I was forced to listen to the platitudes and lies the anchors perpetrated about the greatness and humility of the democrats and known rhinos who were in attendance. Those dialogues became even more intolerable because not a single patriot was spared at least one disparaging remark. Even our lovely, kind and gracious First Lady, Melania, was censured as being a former model who was overly concerned about her appearance. 

But in a way, I am glad I watched it on a very politically biased outlet because it made perfectly clear the far-reaching extent of hypocrisy in the outgoing administration, and put into perspective just how greatly our beautiful country has suffered under their leadership. 

I hope never to forget the look on President Trump's face in those brief moments before making his inaugural address to our nation. He appeared calm and composed on the surface, but his eyes let me know just how human he is and how heavy his burdens weigh. I prayed for his continued strength, safety and guidance, along with that of his family who have already endured so much opposition and hatred. These stalwart, loyal and brave individuals could have walked away from the continuing fight for our freedoms, but they close to stand by their husband, father and grandfather not knowing what other sacrifices they might be called on to make as a family.

President Trump has lived through and risen above many horrific battles, including several assassination attempts, but the precipice he was standing on at that moment could bring the ultimate battles of his life. The stage had been set and the majority of people stood with him, but the dark and sinister forces he had been dealing with for the past nine years had barely begun their fight. When Kamala Harris said just a few days ago--with that ever-present and annoying cackle--that she would not disappear into the night she was including her unprincipled comrades who had already unleashed almost intolerable pain and chaos and stood ready and prepared to do more. 

But for President Trump, whom providence had protected and brought to this moment, there would be no turning back after his speech was delivered. While his remarks would bring rounds of applause and unprecedented joy to those who believed as he did, they would also unleash unimaginable fury from the far-left activists as he reemphasized his promises to return our country to God, to its amazing constitution and to the lawful citizens whose beautiful home it is and who enabled such a glorious victory.

I felt immense pride and gratitude as he rose to his feet and made those few steps to the lectern. He was prepared, powerful and committed. Nearly every promise reiterated brought a standing ovation from the crowd, but all the former presidents and their wives--including Harris and her husband--sat as if unable to move. The expressions on their faces ranged from rage and fear to a pretense of apathy. They managed to pull it together when he mentioned the hostages being released, but their contempt was ever present. 

It was impossible not to notice two things during the short ceremony that may have been more than a simple oversight or a mechanical failure with the sound system. The facial reactions from those individuals mentioned in the above paragraph was very telling, and the outcome far different from what they expected. First, time was not given for President Trump's family to join him before he placed his hand on two Bibles and Justice Roberts began to swear him into office. The smaller Bible had been given to him by his mother and the larger one president Lincoln had used at his inauguration. 

Could there be some underlying meaning with that? Considering the sharp division in our country after the last four years of brainwashing and manipulation it seems entirely possible. As does his inauguration landing on Martin Luther King Day--also a time for remembering promised deliverance from oppression. 

Second was the loss of sound when Carrie Underwood stood up to sing America the Beautiful. The faces behind her were not sympathetic, but she handled it with complete grace. Her a cappella rendition was so moving most everyone joined in to sing with her--even some of those who had been so completely stoic before. The love for our country and the joy felt to be on the verge of reclaiming its foundational principles must have been electric. Nonetheless, I cannot help but wonder why the soundboard was still working for all the microphones on stage and only the channel controlling her background music was affected. Guess the conspiracy theorist in me is still alive and well.

I am so grateful my fellow patriots and I have made it this far. The hope for a beautiful future with our constitutional rights being upheld once again and all the woke nonsense and support for criminals being abolished is strong. But I fear the war we are waging against so many unseen forces of evil is far from being over. That's why we can never become complacent and think we've already done our part. 

President Trump and all those unnamed heroes fighting for our freedoms need our support and strength more than ever. We can now speak the truth and stand up for what we believe without fear of complete retribution by unknown forces that have been allowed to silence us during these past few years. Not that it won't take time to undo all the damage that has spread into every sector of our lives, but the plan is being implemented as of today. If we stand strong and immovable we will prevail and our posterity will be true recipients of the American dream that has been undermined and, in far too many instances, destroyed.

I do feel like I can breath again--at least for the moment. But evil men and women, whose true master is Satan, never sleep and have unlimited resources. However, what they don't seem to understand is that God is truly in charge. He is our maker, offering strength, courage and hope because righteousness will eventually prevail. And if we are on His side we really have nothing to fear. So I'll say my prayers and try to remain as prepared and positive as possible for whatever may come my way because I am a believer in God, in truth and in the goodness of the vast majority of my fellow travelers during this mortal journey.

 

A Quarter of a New Century Gone

It's mid-morning on January 1, 2025 and the clouds hang heavy outside my living room windows. The white branches of the Quaking Apsen trees stand still against  a milky whiteness that appears thick enough to cut with a butter knife. Gone is the sunshine from yesterday making it a very dreary day indeed. But there is a certain solace in a world without outside movement after the hustle and bustle of the Christmas season. My body and heart are ready for some time spent in self-reflection and deciding what I want this new year to be.

My thoughts about the importance of the minutes and hours it would bring changed very rapidly last night after my son picked up the two family dogs I had been watching for a week while they spent time with his biological family. Needless to say, the week was more bitter than sweet. While the enthusiasm of the puppies is fun to watch, my allergies kicked in with more force than usual almost immediately--most likely intensified because it rained or snowed the entire time and their little feet brought in plant mold and mud from the yard in addition to the allergens their bodies automatically produced. I got extra shots to help combat what having them around did to my own system but by Sunday night my eyes were horribly red, swollen and itching. I spent the last two days of their stay in the basement tying off queen-size quilts since they much preferred the main part of the house and only came down occasionally to see if I was still there.

After the baby quilt humanitarian project of October and November, I had decided to  make large quilts for each member of my immediate family for Christmas next year. While that was a noble and reachable goal, my OCD behavior told me I might as well use up all the fabric I had left in one of my storage closets. I knew it would make my kids happy because they seemed to enjoy complaining about having to get rid of all my stuff when I was gone. I had finished tying nine big quilt tops--enough to fulfill my goal with two left over--by the time the dogs left and was excited to get my house de-dogged so I could sew together the fabric for three more. That would take care of all the batting I had and all but a few folds of fabric. 

Imagine my surprise when I discovered that every piece of fabric I had matched so carefully with something else was only 36 inches wide instead of the 44-45 I had been using and needed for the size of the quilts I was making. Normally, when confronted with such a disaster that stopped my plans cold, I would have fallen into an immediate panic and begun planning a next-day trip to the fabric store. But as I stood at my dining room table where my sewing machine sat ready for use, a sudden burst of relief washed over me. I had the amount of quilts I needed for next Christmas and enough was enough!!! I may have wanted but certainly didn't NEED any more. So I returned everything I had planned on using to the basement closet and took the long quilting frames to the garage where the were returned to a top shelf for storage until another overwhelming mood hit me.

I thought I would regret my decision this morning, but I had a dream last night that didn't make much logical sense because it bounced around so much, but the overall meaning was more than clear. My time for busy behaviors that kept me from dwelling on recent hurts, even more than those of the past, needed to stop. Change was coming and I wouldn't be prepared to deal with any of it unless I was in a place where hearing the promptings of the Spirit of God was possible. 

While we have a new president-elect whose plans to Make America Great Again fill me with a hope that brings tears to my eyes, I also know that we are in the final hours before our Savior's return and that means the chaos, fear and unimaginable acts of cruelty and horror are not going to end. That is certainly made clear enough as we see the potential for war looming in many parts of the world, the horrific crime in so many areas of our country dramatically escalating, and those who oppose the patriot movement to restore our constitutional republic ready and willing to commit any act of treason or inhumanity to keep their depraved actions hidden and their goal of enslaving the world from completely falling apart.

That's why my focus this year has changed from learning everything I can about how we got to where we are as a human society that seems intent on destroying itself to defining who I am as an individual and what I can do in my own circle of influence to help those I meet feel some of the hope and peace I do. God is in charge, and come what may, I want to be His hands in helping to move His work forward. What a glorious day it will be for the faithful when the Savior returns, but we have to get through all the revelations about the destructive and dreadful last days first. I'm ready to put on my running shoes, take my vitamins and push forward with more energy and purpose than I ever have before.

But . . .  That's always the word that gets me in trouble, as it may well do for many of you. I can find excuses every day to remain complacent and leave the foot work to others. I love being in my home with the doors and windows locked to keep the outside world away, but that is neither possible nor profitable for an extended period of time. While my need to find my center again is great, I can't just abandon duties and responsibilities to take an extended ME vacation. But I can focus on creating a better balance between personal needs, wants and desires, rendering service and compassion to others and finding out what God really needs for me to do before my earthly journey is over.

That seems like a daunting task and one I have contemplated several times in the past before something seemingly more pressing has pulled me away. Take, for example, the need to write a personal life history that may give clarity to my existence to whatever posterity I might have. I have been working at, or around it, for years but my time is running out. That quarter of a century I mentioned in the title is kinda bugging me since I have already lived three-quarters of one and don't seem to have much to show for it except an aging body, lots more wrinkles and saggy skin than I would like, and the lack of energy to do much more than what is required at the time. It's also been hard to accomplish much with a project like that  since I have near total memory loss when it comes to my life's experiences and what I do remember has been both traumatic and painful. It's also not my place to cast blame on anyone or bring to light faults, shortcomings or downright abuse administered by others since I have plenty to account for myself. Besides, all of us will eventually receive just rewards for the kind of lives we've lived and the thoughts we've had while on earth, and having someone who is far wiser do all the judging is okay with me. 

However, I do have a responsibility to leave something to those who come after me. Will anyone really care what I ate for breakfast or how much things cost? Highly doubtful, except for perhaps a passing interest, since they will be consumed with their own challenges and worries. And I'm certainly not able to predict what their futures may hold, but I can write about my own dark moments of pain, disappointment and loss of things I desired most and the growth and personal understanding they have fostered. I can talk about what make me happy, gives me hope and broadens my spiritual perception. But mostly I can bear witness that God lives and loves us, and that our Savior, Jesus Christ, died that we might live again and even gain a state of exaltation if we're willing to pay the price of repentance for sins committed. That includes truly striving to keep all the commandments given for therein is true inner peace, safety and joy regardless of what might be going on around us.

I'm not sure how long my resolve will last. I tend to drift easily away from things that seem overwhelming or uninteresting like eating better, daily exercise and the like, but something feels different today. Maybe it's the landmark of having seventy-five years of living on this planet behind me and knowing that each year I am given now is a true gift. There just isn't time to worry about all the things that have mattered most in the past. I will never be young again in this part of my journey and most people will still dismiss me as having having no value because I'm old. But I'm still young, vital, hopeful, energetic and even playful on the inside where it really matters and I'm not going to let others tell me I can't dance to my favorite music or whirl around in the rain or eat chocolate every day because it tastes better than lettuce. 

That beautiful, God-given spirit I came to earth with still resides inside of me and I need to acknowledge and honor its presence since it will remain with me throughout all the eternities that lay ahead. How grateful I am for a new year that can be filled with peace, joy and understanding in a world filled with strife and chaos if we choose to focus our attention on the things that matter most--our families, our life purpose and our relationship with our Heavenly Father and our Savior.

The sky is the same weirdly heavy white it was when I started this post. Not even a branch in the trees has moved. That kind of stillness has a certain forbidding about it since there is no way of knowing what tomorrow might bring. But it won't really matter as long as I'm doing what I feel is right. I'll be up early and on the road to a place where I can offer the kind of service to others that they cannot do for themselves. May 2025 be the best year ever for all of you. It truly is a glorious time to live.  

Best Gift Ever

It's hard to believe that Christmas will be over in a week and a new year will begin in two. Despite all the uncertainty and downright horrid events of this past year that have left so many people in our country with heavy hearts, empty pocketbooks and a constant uncertainty about the future, the presidential election in November gave us patriots the best possible gift we could ever hope for. Like many of you, I spent September and October praying for a positive outcome and yet silently preparing financially, physically, emotionally and spiritually for what the fake news outlets proclaimed was a tight race where the outcome could never be accurately predicted. 

But my nervousness changed to sorrow and unbelief as Hurricane Helene struck with such savage rage along the southern part of our eastern border decimating entire towns, killing untold numbers and leaving carnage everywhere.. More trustworthy news sources immediately began reporting what one would never hear by turning on the television or looking at the most well-known Internet sites. While I am still waiting for positive confirmation, what I learned made perfect sense since I awakened from the media-induced brainwashing imposed by the global elite and their cronies two years ago. That said, it came as no surprise that Direct Energy Weapons could easily have been used to manipulate this event just as they had done in the Maui, California and Canadian fires, along with the other world catastrophes that were blamed on climate change instead of diabolic human interference. 

Nor did the fact that a profitable lithium mine lay at the epicenter of this manmade tragedy. A mine VP Harris had secured a fat government grant to open as quickly as possible and one her husband had obtained massive shares in just days before the entire town at its base was destroyed. Human greed and inhumane acts of treachery, treason and cowardliness have always been part of civilizations, but shooting people because they wouldn't leave the remains of their homes and preventing rescue efforts and much-needed supplies from being distributed in our own country nearly broke my heart. Learning that organizations like FEMA and Red Cross were complicit in these actions wasn't a surprise either, but it certainly solidified my beliefs about giving to charities where donations end up where they were supposed to go. 

But I digress from what I really want to say and why I have been absent from posting anything for over two months. Besides having a broken heart I was far too busy to think about anything other than the monumental task I set for myself. It was something I had never anticipated doing, but it was also something that has truly changed my heart and how I feel about worldly possessions and spending so much time worrying about, or searching for them. This journey began a few days after the first reports came from North Carolina outlining what so many people were facing. On one side of a split-screen Fox News report was the picture of a young black woman and on the other her two newborn twin daughters who had been swept away in the flooding. Having lost every baby I tried to carry, my heart went out to her. Within minutes those tender feelings, brought on by a prompting I couldn't ignore, turned into a plan for action.. 

In my basement closet was a stack of fabric I had been collecting over the years to use for baby quilts for my posterity. Since my two grandchildren will not need 30 or 40 quilts for the children I hope they will someday have, I decided that with the purchase of batting  and 20 or so yards for backing I could make 40 quilts to donate. I went to the fabric store the next day where they just happened to be having a forty percent off sale on batting. I bought 20 yards and then picked up some plain fabric at Walmart since it was cheaper there. I cut and stacked everything and even cut squares for patchwork tops I would sew together from leftover scraps. I was feeling such a high that I went back three days later to buy more supplies.

That was just the beginning of my journey. With each knot tied or each stitch put in around the edges for binding I felt my heart grow a little softer. I had no idea if the quilts I was making would go to my sisters in North Carolina and their little ones who had been left with nothing or to some mother in a third world country I had never heard of. But I liked thinking about babies being swaddled in warm blankets and laying their mother's arms feeling safe, loved and secure. I worked hours each day for over two weeks before I shared what I was doing with someone else. That sister suggested that I open up my project to other women in our church and see what the reaction was. I'm certainly glad I did.

I hosted a work day where four quilts were tied and two others partially done. I also received donations of batting for 20 quilts and fabric for 10. One sister offered to help bind. She had never done it before and I had to completely redo the first two as she struggled to figure out how to do a blind stitch with the proper tension. She ended up completing five before telling me it just wasn't her cup of tea. Two teenage girls wanted to learn how to do it so I worked with them on that. 

I was so busy during the month of October I didn't have time to worry about the election. Each quilt completed made me want to do more, so I did. And I didn't worry about where the money would come from because God was providing all I needed, along with the physical strength and resiliency to complete my task. I wanted to turn them in to the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints Humanitarian Center in Salt Lake City, Utah where I knew they would go to people in need since they are always the first charitable organization to respond to a disaster anywhere in the world. 

But I had to postpone my original date of completion by 10 days because my project continued to grow. Every time I went to the store I would look at fabric and feel the need to purchase more. I was truly lost in my service to people I would never meet and I had never felt better, regardless of the fact that my hands and back where throbbing most of the time from overuse. I simply couldn't give up until I knew the time was right. That time came the week after Thanksgiving when I had completed 80 quilts on my own---double what I had promised myself I would do.  

When I finally called the center to tell them I was ready to come, I had 100 quilts to donate--two of them queen size that a local elementary school had done as part of a Thanksgiving activity. Another sister I had never met added 132 crocheted hats and 26 pairs of gloves. It was hard to keep the tears back as a friend and I loaded her car to the max for our drive to Salt Lake City. I felt my heart would burst as I walked into that center and saw pictures of our Savior on the walls and verses of scriptures and other positive thoughts on the walls everywhere. The feeling of peace and calm in a world filled with so much chaos and turmoil was almost overwhelming. And I knew in that moment that any act of service we give will be multiplied exponentially upon us. 

I've tried to keep that feeling alive the last couple of weeks as I've prepared for Christmas. Baking treats for neighbors and making sure people within my circle of influence who have needs receive some of the help and comfort they need has given me a new appreciation for the life and gift of our Savior, Jesus Christ. How grateful I am for his birth in that stable so many years ago, for the shepherds who came to worship him and the Wisemen who kept his whereabouts a secret. The love and devotion of his earthy parents in protecting him from evil rulers and giving him guidance as he grew will remain somewhat of a mystery during this life. But as a parents I know there is nothing I would not do for one of my children or grandchildren, and I know they felt the same way about no sacrifice being too much. 

I will never fully understand the true majesty of the Christ child's ultimate gifts. Eternal life, the chance to earn forgiveness for sins and live with our Heavenly Father and earthly family again are too all-encompassing for my finite mind to comprehend, but my appreciation for such gifts grows each day as I study more about his life. I want to KNOW him when I kneel before him one day, not just know about him. 

How grateful I am for this Christmas season, despite certain parts of my life not being what I wished they could be. Sorrow and joy are opposites and I'm here to experience both. That's why tonight I'm taking dinner into a family I met on Sunday. The mother had back surgery a couple of weeks ago and her 38 year-old sister died unexpectedly last week. She's in a lot of pain and my hands are the ones Jesus has for this task. 

May you feel Christ's love is my Christmas wish for each of you. He will walk with you if you ask him to and carry you when you need it. He will always be your best friend offering hope, comfort and help. What a glorious season this is and how lucky we are to have it.