Here I am four years later. I never dreamed retirement could be so great. David is making walking sticks and lighthouses and any little thing my mom and I need (or that he thinks we need). And, yes, my mom at 99 still works circles around the rest of us. David told her she’d have to mow the lawn because she is in the best shape. She says no more garden after this year. We’ll see. She and I cook together. What a joy. How many 67-year-old gals could enjoy this privilege.
We also work in and glean from our little country church. Actually now it’s Mill City Baptist Home Fellowship. I’ll post a picture when I relearn how to do that.
I don’t plan to spend my life blogging, but I do enjoy communicating. OK, I’ll just say it: I’m a blabbermouth.
I’ll appreciate your responses. Please make them kind. Even in your disagreements. I’m not even sure where I’m going with this yet. But may God guide our mouths and fingers on the keyboards, whether we’re talking about physical or spiritual food, silly or serious stuff, grandchildren or grand adventures, politics or potlucks.
Welcome back. I’ve missed you, though I’ve seen many of you on Facebook for the last four years.
Let us throw off everything that hinders…and let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us. Hebrews 12:1
A message from the retired gal in Mill City: It seems the more time I have, the more time I waste. I’ve decided to put my blog on indefinite hold. It has been, as the King James says, “the weight which so easily besets me.” I’ve known it was here, but I didn’t have the technical know-how to do it right. Dan and Celest have not decided to move to Mill City to help me. They will have to reckon with that!
I won’t tear it down because I may want it back someday.
So, I leave you with a happy couple in a small town in Oregon. She wants to write two more books. He wants to tinker in his garage, making walking sticks and lighthouses. They both want to take walks, work with Search and Rescue, serve and worship in their church, play with and nurture their grandchildren– together. This doesn’t leave time for her to learn to make a good blog. And she doesn’t want to ruin her marriage, her retirement or her new house by throwing her computer out her brand new window.
I act like I put a blog on here every day. I never do. But, now I’m going to never do it on purpose.
Find me on Facebook. Find me laughing at my spunky 95-year-old mother. Find me worshiping with a small group of people in a store-front Baptist church in Mill City, Oregon. Find me sneaking away with a bald-headed redhead. Or find me up here in my cove, writing From Herald to Leon and Thirty-Nine Strangers.
Please don’t let anything or anybody weigh you down so you don’t do what God wants you to do.
David wishes he could leisurely read the paper every day. But some of us have to work for a living. Tomorrow will be my first real day off work–though I played today. I am thankful God and David are seeing fit for me to retire and pursue my passion of writing. Please pray with me that I will use this time wisely. I’ll take gentle advice from any already retirees–or any smart person or any person who thinks he is smart. You may comment on my blog or on my e-mail.
Don’t forget to buy your copy of Ebenezer and Ninety-Eight Friends from this starving writer. You know the drill–get it from Marty, get it from Amazon or Lighthouse or Barnes and Noble or your local bookstore–just get it!
Go to the ant, you sluggard; consider its ways and be wise! It has no commander, no overseer or ruler; yet it stores its provisions in summer and gathers its food at harvest. (Proverbs 6: 7-8).
Saturdays are supposed to go like this:
We sleep only moderately late. We decide how we’re doing breakfast–then we do it. Mother may fix her to-die-for pancakes or we may fix our own boring breakfast–cereal or egg and toast. Then we walk to Starbucks while Mother has her boring oatmeal. David gets the house coffee with room for cream. Sometimes he sneaks in a roll if mother-in-law’s nutty wheat pancakes weren’t part of the plan. I order a tall coffee decaf frappuccino with a tiny bit of chocolate syrup on top.
We sit outside if it’s nice. We talk about the week, our kids and grandkids, what we’re not getting done, and our retirement, which we’re also not getting done. After we’ve had enough sustenance to get us home, we walk back from St. Arbucks, as my friend Brother Mapes calls it.
None of this happened today. One little thing got us off track. We had to be at the bank and post office before they closed. We also had to get back so David could install a new garbage disposal. Maybe that was three little things got us off track. We did have lunch (too late for breakfast–but I don’t care for breakfast much anyway–unless it’s Georgia Lou’s crunchy nutty pancakes). We were together. We did talk. But I didn’t get my walk and my frappuccino.
David is in the kitchen crouched over a shiny new garbage disposal while I’m in here talking about it. Some talk. Some do.
We were supposed to be retired in Oregon in a brand new house in the country just the right distance from two of our grandkids. I was supposed to have frappuccino and a walk and a house in the country. Do you see my hands on my hips and my lower lip down to my chin?
Some complain. Some keep working on getting the house ready to sell–just in case.