mother

Time On My Hands

Posted by

0

This past weekend, I had time on my hands. I spent most of Saturday sitting in a deer stand and part of Sunday afternoon, too.

It was raining Saturday. The woods in the rain are lovely to experience.  The rush and patter of the rain.  The whoosh of the wind.  The dance of the trees and swirling of light over raindrops.  The noisy quiet of nature.

I spent time trying to focus the vision. I know one thing for certain.  I am a home keeper at heart.  Everything seems to come back to home.  I love to travel.  But home is my vocation.  I expend a great deal of energy and thought on my home.  Trying to figure out how to make it better.  How to make it stay cleaner.  How to make it more comfortable and user friendly.  How to make it kid-friendly, both crawler size kids and grown, married size kids.

If I move this over there and rearrange this closet. If I get rid of this and try to find something like that?  So it goes with me.  Drives him crazy.  I don’t mean to make him nuts with all my moving and changing.  Sometimes I get things situated and think it will work and it doesn’t.  Or something changes.  Or it doesn’t fit the way I thought it would.

I do the same in my deer stand. I have three chairs in each of my stands.  Each chair serves a different purpose.  It took me a bit to work out the best arrangement. I like to be comfortable.  It is a long time sitting.

But the reward of the confined space in the open woods is great.  I have to sit still and let my mind be my occupation.  I take my journal and write page after page of gibberish.  But, amid all the static, I hear that voice telling me this is the way.  I see the light for the next step.  The fog clears from the vision for a moment and I have a chance to make a note on my pages before it is shrouded again.  But, this time I am not in despair.  I have captured a glimpse of the vision on paper.  I have words I can refer to when I get unsure again of the next step.

Take the broom and sweep. Put away the paraphernalia let over from the past days’ adventures.  Clean the fish tank.  Pull a few weeds.  Cook a good pot of tortilla soup.  Get the coffee pot ready for the morning.  Figure out what tomorrow’s chores will be. Decide what closet needs attention.  Another page in my life has been written.  Today was a good one.  A good one preceded by good ones.

I just realized I am doing what my mother and her mother always did.  My mother’s sisters do the same thing, too.  That constant moving and rearranging in our homes.  And so the family connection flows.

I love hunting season. One of the main reasons is the time to unravel my mind.  And let Him show me wonders of his world.  And have time with him adventuring in the mud and rain.

FullSizeRender (7)

Haunted

Posted by

0

You know what haunts me?  Images of white gloves and pearls, white patent Mary Janes with lace trimmed socks turned down at the ankle.  Mother used to dress me in them.

I scroll through Pinterest and view all the fashion.  I even wear a lot of the types of things I see.  But, I remember a time before I reached my teens when Mother tried to dress me as a young girl once dressed.

I had some lovely outfits she purchased.  Even more lovely things she sewed for me.  As I go along in my day to day life, I feel some frustration at myself for not meeting the standards set by the past.

Search Pinterest for 1950s.  See how women were dressed to go the grocery store.  See how women dressed to work in an office.  See how women dressed period.  I realize “things” have changed.  My question is why?  Couldn’t I adjust my own standard?  Couldn’t I dress in prettier, more lady like clothes?

Of course I could.  But, even this weekend I succumbed to the “boyfriend” jeans with a rip in them.  Topped with a bright oversize tee shirt.  But, I wore cute sandals and layers of bracelets.  Does that count?

I troll the resale shops for dresses.  I have a collection of dresses I can wear around the house.  But, I don’t wear them much.  Again, I ask myself why?

I suppose by the time I work my day job, change to work out and do my chores, then shower, it is time to put on jammies.

I struggle inside with the need to be practical in my dress for my clerical job in a high-security Texas prison and my need to turn out properly.

In my next life, I want to have a job that I can dress the way I want.  I want to dress to make Mother proud.  I do wear a dress, hose and heels for Sunday morning worship service.

I wonder if my angel baby remembers how much I anguished over the fashion faux pas she insisted on making by wearing flannel shirts in May.  I finally asked her why she insisted and she simply said it was freezing cold in her high school classes and flannel shirts were just right to keep warm and to haul around outside of the building.  I let it rest.

Looking back, I should have taken her to buy a stylish jacket to wear.  But, my girl is probably laughing at my even thinking about it now!  Oh, well.  Such is the way of hauntings.  They make me recall a different time and place.  I still insist that formality of dress might bring back formality of behavior.  Maybe people would be kinder and gentler, if the idea of being a lady or a gentleman was revived.

Manners, protocol, etiquette, proper grooming, standards of dress.  They may seem shallow and old fashioned.  But, the outward reflects the inward.  The inward reflects the outward.  It boils down to respect.  Self-respect and self-esteem.  Respect for others, too.  My appearance makes a difference.

The best thing I have to wear is a smile.  The best accessory a kind and encouraging word.  I hope I show love and compassion whether I am wearing orthopedic shoes and an oversize tee shirt or my best dress with heels, hose and pearls.  But, that haunted feeling insists I would do it so much better in a skirt and heels!

Disclaimer:  all of my girls (daughter, daughter-in-law, niece) have a wonderful fashion sense and personal style.  Moreover they have such tremendous compassion and scope of mind, I marvel at their magnificent capacity to love.  I only speak to my own self and my own ambitions.

IMAG1416