Out With The Old In With The New

I would be delighted for you to visit my new site:

Rachel Going Creative

and thank you from the bottom of my heart

for reading this post

and all the previous ones for which you have so

graciously read along.

Tonight out at the Farmhouse,

 we hosted whatever family could drop in.

They came from near and far...

Indiana, Pennsylvania and Florida.

We prayed and ate and laughed

and traipsed out to the barn

in the shivering cold

to watch the donkey bray and roll around in the dust,

kicking and squirming to garner a few laughs.

We stood on the deck

hoping to hear the coyotes howl.

One of the deer sailed right over the driveway

with nary a misstep.

We told them it was Rudolph

just heading home.

So we closed the door on the fun

and the old year past

and with a sigh

realized that it was time to look forward

to new adventures

and new challenges

and new hopes

and dreams.

I also realized that the time has come

to make the switch

to update my online presence

and so I want to thank you from

the bottom of my heart for following along

just reading my random thoughts

as I have shared them since

January 1, 2008.

I will be so honored if you will join me

at my new sight

and just know how much I value you

and your presence and encouragement.

Thank you for all your visits these last 8 years.

It's been awesome!

Love, Hugs and Many Blessings for a Wonderful

2016.

~Rachel

THE LINK TO MY NEW SITE:

Rachel Going Creative

These Things I Will Do

At the Farmhouse, 

I never put decorations on this particular tree. 

Just lights, 

only lights.

I have enjoyed the cozy glow.

I've loved it this way.

And in the night, 

in those pondering hours, 

all the colors, 

the sparkle, 

the different facets and reflections of light,

make me think of the days gone by

and the days ahead.

I can't change the past.

I can only hope to shape the future by living well now,

this very moment. 

We don't get repeats, 

or chances to make up for lost time

or past regret. 

On Christmas eve

 we took a gift to a person

we feared would have no contact 

with anyone on Christmas.  

Just this morning

a man told me his sad

sad

story.

The "story" was probably

a grand total of 10 sentences,

but those 10 sentences wrote a book in my heart. 

I was stunned.

I was almost rendered speechless.

I had never heard such a real life story. 

And once again I realized that we never know the 

pain that crouches just below the surface

of quick wit

or the grief hidden in a smile. 

I've heard of so much sorrow

this Christmas season 

as people have told me their heartache. 

And my heart has ached along side them. 

I wish I could rewrite their story 

with the stroke of a pen 

and the flourish of my hand

and make it pretty.

But a baby,

a baby came,

helpless,

and frail 

and he was laid 

right down 

in the middle of all our messes,

yes, 

my messes

my heartache, 

my darkness, 

and pondering.

And YOUR messes too.

Your heartache, 

and darkness

and pondering. 

But the baby, 

the helpless and frail baby,

was strong

 and

 HE was mighty.

And with the stroke of three nails

with a flourish

his hands

and feet

rewrote my story!

And he rewrote your story too!

You may not think it looks very pretty, 

but he wrote it to bring peace. 

Peace for me

Peace for you

Peace for all 

And as a new year dawns, 

I realize

"You and I may be hard pressed on every side,

but we are not in despair, abandoned or destroyed". 
2 Corinthians 4:8

So I will celebrate with joy. 

I will pray more intensely with thanksgiving.

And I will keep your stories close to my heart. 

Because your stories matter to me. 

These things I will do. 

Who Is He?

 Who is he, this King of Glory?  He is the Lord Almighty.
Psalm 24:10

We must first believe in the baby in a manger,

before we can believe in a Savior on the cross. 

Sending Christmas Eve blessings to you.

Love,  Rachel

A Cornucopia of Thoughts For Thanksgiving

Recently, I was introduced to  BloomNation, and was inspired to share my Thanksgiving table decor.

I used a mix of dried hydrangeas and fresh roses along with pumpkins, candles and fresh pine sprigs.

Today it is fun to have a reason to show you the way the table is decorated at the Farmhouse.

You can read about this flower service at the end of this post. 

Thoughts for Thanksgiving:

There I stood, stunned, 

pondering the meaning of the text 

that had come through on my sister's phone. 

"I think she has died," read the text.

Quickly, my siblings and I began our network of communicating,

and yes, 

in fact,  it was true, 

without warning, 

my first sibling of nine, a sister,  was gone. 

These past few years have held deep heartaches, 

dark long silences,

feelings of despair

and hopelessness

 and death for our family. 

Since 2012, Philip and I have lost five precious family members. 

I've ached as Philip's grandmother adjusted to life

 after 75 years of marriage to his grandfather. 

I felt my heart twisting in agony as we received word that

my brother's son had taken his life.

We were stunned with the news that Philip's uncle,  

the strong one, the "party-maker" 

of our family celebrations,

had such a grim diagnosis, 

and three weeks later we told him goodbye.

And then, another brother's son, an avid bicyclist,

his first time in the mountains on a mountain bike, 

gone, quickly. 

And then my sister...

I've grieved as my nieces navigated their own difficulties

 now that both their parents are gone.

And life just goes on. 

There is much more. 

 There has been a lot of change and upheaval.

This isn't about pity or sympathy. 

EVERY ONE

who is living and breathing

is dealing with 

a hard wrestling story of life.

I see it in your eyes too, 

the longing for redemption,

for all wrong to be made right. 

In all the hard wrestling stories of life, 

we have a choice. 

A choice for thankfulness,

for thanksgiving.

My brother shared a story at my nephew's funeral

about a man who was struggling under the weight of a very heavy cross.

 It was gnarled and covered in thistles with rough bark

 making it difficult for his tired and aching hands to hold.

 As blisters began to form and his arms and legs trembled

while struggling to gain foot hold,

he tripped over the rocky path, and began to cry out,

"OH God! This is more than I can bear.

I can't go on.

 I've reached my limit.

I just can't take anymore."

Tears coursed down his cheeks.

His hair and body and clothes reeked with the toil of sweat.

God responded, 
"My son, I love you so much,

and just ahead you will find a little shed

under the shade of a large old oak tree.

 Stop there. Rest. Catch your breath.
Inhale the cool breezes. 

Inside the shed you will find many crosses.

You can trade your cross for one of those. "

With relief,

he reached the cool shade of the old oak tree.

Finding the door to the shed partially open,

 he wedged his worn and sweaty body

 into the small structure which held the other crosses.

 As his weary eyes adjusted to the darkness after the piercing sun,

 he was aghast to realize that those crosses for which he could trade,

 were much larger,

with grotesque and unbalanced shapes

and razor sharp bark and thistles.

In fact,  after looking them over,
he couldn't find a single one,
 for which he was willing to trade.

Actually, he felt his heart strengthen
and as cool breezes fluttered the leaves making the shade of the old oak tree, 
HE FELT THANKFUL, 
yes,  thankful for HIS cross. 
The other crosses looked absolutely
unbearable.

Though his cross was still heavy and the way was still difficult,

he chose to keep his cross.

It even looked slightly beautiful compared to the others, if he held his head at just the right angle while slightly squinting his eyes.

With a heart filled with thankfulness
 he thought, 
"I don't think it's quite as heavy anymore. "

So onward he trudged, faithfully keeping and carrying his very own cross.

I believe joy is a choice.

Hope and faith, love and trust...

  ALL choices.

Choices from deep within
all birthed on the treacherous
path of thankfulness.

Our choices guide us.

In choosing thankfulness,
we become...
what we choose...

...Joy, Hope, Faith, Love, Trust

Today I choose thankfulness
the path that leads to
Joy, Hope, Faith, Love, Trust

YOU ALL mean so much to me.

I desire for each of you to have a

Happy Thanksgiving .

I hope you have one of your most glorious days ever.

Choosing!

Founded in August 2011, BloomNation is a community marketplace for people to list and send unique bouquets from local florists across the county. Whether you are looking for a traditional bouquet of roses or a one of a kind design,  Bloom Nation let's you find and send the perfect floral sentiment from trusted florists in your area.

Four Totally Awesome Pictures of One Anonymous Pup

                                                               "Whatcha doin'?"

                                                             "Oh, just hangin' out.

  

                                                               It's a dog's life,

and someone's gotta live it!"

Think About His Love...thoughts for a quiet time

Think about His love,
Think about His goodness.

Think about His grace
That's brought us through.

For as high as the heavens above,
So great is the measure of  our Father's love,
Great is the measure of our Father's love.

Did You Know That Was There?

The words on this sign

are from

I Corinthians 13,

commonly called

"The Love Chapter."

You've probably seen it,

heard it,

and have it hanging in your bedroom.

So ya know

how you go

down the list

checkin' it twice...

(at least I do anyway)

sayin' "ouch"

OR

"oh yeah, I'VE got this in the bag!"

No?

Really?

You don't do that?

A few months ago

(it hangs where I can read it daily)

I was reading through this

checking

my heart throb

my heart pulse

my heart attitude

my heart adjustment

my heart longing...

...to be

all

I CAN BE...

To love God

and others

as I am shown

to love,

and there it was

plain as day

right at the bottom

I saw. ..

PERSEVERES!

"What?", I thought.

Since when did love start to persevere?

Silly me!

How did I miss that?

After all these years!

I mean I KNOW it does persevere,

but seriously, did you know that

 that word

PERSEVERES

was the last word in this series of verses?

I haven't been able to stop thinking

of all the ways to put that word

into practice.

Life just kind of helps us

 put it into practice too!

Doesn't it?

How do you think love...

PERSEVERES?

If I do not have love,

I am nothing.

So I will continue to

PERSEVERE.

There Is Strength In Pain

How are you standing with just one leg?
Have you just staggered upright from
yet another blow?

You're alone...you think.
You think no one sees you.
No one sees your pain.

You gaze around,
wondering...
"How will I go on,
is it safe here,
will my needs be met?"

You have what you need to soar
beautiful one.
Reach down deep
and flap those strong wings
and soar.

Yes soar.
You are strong.
Stronger because of your pain.
Soar!

5 Questions To Ask Yourself Before Posting On Social Media. ..or saying anything at all for that matter.

I was leaving my daughter's school last night.

I loved the message of this bulletin board.

Ponder its truth.

50 Shades of Grey?...that's not what I saw

I didn't read the 50 Shades trilogy,
nor watch the movie.

I just simply won't.

HOWEVER

This is what I read...
what I saw...

My phone trilled it's "cell phonic" noise.

Answering,
I heard his quiet,
strong,
matter of fact voice...

"She's gone," he said,
"but come over.
We still need you here."

So there I stood,
in the threshold
of her room,
their room,
sensing her presence,
lingering.

And I had every right to be there,
but it all seemed to precious
and sacred...
and I didn't want to disturb
that aura,
that sense of Divine passage
as I reflected on our last time together,
our words,
my last look back,
her weak hand held up
in goodbye.
I read that.
I saw that,
as life just hurried on past,
brushing and bustling on past.

Her bed was crisply made.
The items necessary for her care
were already gone.

But her presence lingered,
it lingered
in notes from grandchildren
taped to the mirror,
and the Guidepost magazine
laying on the bedside table
and photos of ones she loved
placed around the room.
The "grand dog" must have sensed
the emotion,
the newness of change,
because he stood beside me,
his head hovering about my knee cap
and he licked my finger tips,
with his soft little tongue,
like the first gentle waves
of an in-coming tide.

As I stood there,
it felt as though I was
watching a sunset fade from view.
I pondered the moments
that had brought them to this place,
well and me too,
for that matter.

Across the years as her strength failed,
I was one of the ones blessed
to be called in to help.
And I watched
and learned
as she hosted family gatherings
and parties
and games with friends
and Easter egg hunts
and huge Thanksgiving dinners
all from the confines
of a motorized chair.

She was mighty,
and humorous,
and caring,
and interested in others...
so many others...
and she made you feel like
 YOU
were her best friend.

Bff for life.

I saw her do more
from her motorized chair
than some people
do in many many years...
maybe even a life time.

She read this blog.
She was anxious for
a new story to post.
She would comment to me
and let me know
what she thought
about what I wrote.


The reason I make these
short centered phrases
in the format
of my blog...
is because she
always
always
told me she loved visiting here.
And I found out
this format
made it easier for her
to read,
to see on the screen.

On my screen
to the far right,
right now,
that is her
beautiful
smiling face
leading the list
of the group
who like this blog.
I don't know
if your screen shows it
that way,
but I love it that mine does.

And he,
he is the one,
who told me to write,
to write somewhere...
besides this blog...
and I took it to heart
because he is wise.
And they loved my family,
from the time we met in 1999,
and treated us like their own.

But there were times,
no matter who was there to help her,
she as his bride for 62 years,
she only wanted him.
Just him...to help
to lift her,
to turn her,
to say just the right things to her...
or know when to walk away..
and let her be,
let her sleep.

And he was strong,
stronger than strong,
and caring,
and diligent,
and methodical,
and humorous,

OH how they could laugh...

And I was blessed
for just a while
to read,
to see,
this dance,
this dance of life,
as the steady beat,
of life
and love
slowed to a waltz,
and then a slow waltz,
like the tines in a music box,
s.l.o.w.l.y.
p.l.i.n.g.i.n.g.
the last notes
of a true love song.

And on Valentine's day,
when others were thronging
to see 50 Shades...

...while the near zero temps
blew snow in strong
sideways gusts...
I witnessed,
a dedicated husband
stand at the head of his wife...
and express his thanks
for her love and faithfulness,
and say,
"Goodbye for now,
because I will see you later. "

Yes absolutely,
that's what I saw on Valentine's day.
And I'm stronger.
I'm a better person,
because that is what I saw.

I read.
I saw.
I witnessed love
in sickness and health.

Mrs. Mary...forever in my heart.

Wait, What? Paralyzed?

We used to sit on the porch

 and have "picnics" as impromptu

 as a summer thunderstorm. 

milk

potato chips

popcorn

carrots

just whatever we had

we rushed through the kitchen 

opening cabinet doors

 and

 pulling drawers

scrambling for the 

"picnic food"

as though we were dodging the

first large drops of rain.

Suddenly,

it was all

 plopped with a thunder clap

into the over sized basket,

then

spread on the quilt

and

scattered 

on the floor

like dice in a fast game 

of 

"something or the other"

It wasn't 4th of July

but

just an ordinary

regular day

bees-buzzing-by-the-window-sill-kind-of-day.

Holidays weren't necessary,

no not at all.

Not much planning was involved.

The thought kind of dropped into

our head

like a spider sliding down

on a single line of web

from the ceiling,

slooowwwly

sloowly,

then the picnic thought touched our brain

and

it was assembled quickly

and eaten quickly

as though if not 

scarfed down in haste,

the moment would pass...

un-lived.

But the memories,

yes,

 the memories linger.

Memories

stir longing.

longing for home

longing for the way things used to be

longing for Spring

longing for children

longing for love

longing for the past 

longing for food

longing for sleep

longing for peace

longing for hope

longing for things just out of reach.

Longings can

 paralyze 

hold you back

take your breath away

render you as immobile as

 Christopher Reeve

after his horse riding accident,

frozen,

set in stone,

a pillar of salt...

just like Lot's wife

who dared to look back,

to

~long~.

Yes, longing can truly do that.

Yes, 

longing can

hinder you 

cause you to stumble

to fall,

but

always

always

GET UP.

Move forward

reach out

find someone to help

to hug

to speak words of comfort 

or life.

You never know who may be hanging...

on longings...

hanging on longings

like it is their last thread, 

a very fine and delicate thread

 stretching to you 

tugging for hope.

You just never really know,

but your lowest of lows,

your deepest and darkest sorrow,

could possibly be the very door

that opens to the fulfillment of your destiny.

Are you paralyzed?

Are you a pillar of stone,

a statue of salt?

I refuse to be.

I admit it.

I am truly filled with longing.

My longings are different 

than your longings

most likely,

but they won't define me.

And they don't need to define you

either! 

I refuse to let them paralyze me,

to hold me back.

I purpose for my longings 

to 

reveal the door of my next step

that leads to fulfilling my destiny.

What are your longings.

Is something paralyzing you?

Defining you?