Jane of many trades...

It has been months since my last blog!  I went off on a rabbit trail about 'gluten free' and got bored with myself very quickly! =]  I have totally revamped my blog and thought I would share some of today's thoughts with you.

This morning I was out doing some work for my husband.  When I was finished, I started thinking again about what I want to be when my kids grow up.  I never really had a clear vision of this when I was in high school.
I had tested very high in abstract thinking and mechanical reasoning on some aptitude test, but was told that secretarial work would be best suited for me.  I loved taking sewing, cooking, metal shop, and felt I had found my calling when a school district we moved to offered television production.  After high school I worked in fast food, radio and television stations, car dealerships, even worked as a starving artist for awhile.  I have sold Tupperware, Herbalife, Pampered Chef and had my own videography business.  None of these jobs were of a secretarial nature, yet that has not left me feeling unfufilled.

Cooking with Cast Iron

Grandma's Pans

 A couple years ago when all the news was coming out on the dangers of cooking in non-stick pans, I started pulling out some of my old cast irons pans.  I had picked them up in flea markets 20 years ago using them mostly as decoration since they were cruddy and rusty on the inside. Ones I could get clean I seldom used, since clean up was such a bear.  But times have changed and I've learned better ways of cooking and cleaning them! These are 2 of my grandma's pans, given to me by an aunt and my Mom.  These 75 year old beauties are still able cook up some fine food!

God Has Not Forgotten You

  These are words of change, "God has not forgotten you".

  They came to me one summer day at a women's conference in Washington, D.C.. I had been "wandering in the desert" for some time. Yearning for breakthrough in my spiritual/emotional growth, but staying stuck where I was. I would have little victories along the way, but would always be pulled back down by my past. Needless to say, it had been a long time since I peeled off a 'layer of onion'. I had pretty much resigned myself to living in the desert.

Sticking the landing

Last weekend at a friend's house, a group of us were having a wonderful time sharing stories from our childhood. Through the laughter, I heard a name from the past that I am greatly familiar with. Could it be true? Had someone actually just mentioned my childhood hero? Yes! You know who I'm talking about (if not there's always google =]). That great 70's legend...Evil Kenevil!

All I really knew about Evil Kenevil was that he would attempt these crazy motorcycle jumps. Sometimes crashing, sometimes sticking the landing. And that he seemed to do this with absolutely no fear.

Emulating my hero, I played with no fear. I even earned the nickname, Karen Kenevil.
That title was given to me when I was 9, after I jumping a picnic table with my bicycle.
I cleared the table lengthwise and landed upright on both wheels in the sandbox...handlebar going up under my ribcage. Not sure if that counts as sticking the landing, but I sure did earn the respect of my friends.

A landing I did not stick was on my mini bike. My brother and I would ride at this clearing near our house. It was a big circle with a path through the center and one that led to a 6 foot drop off. Not finding enough thrill in going around the circle, I made my own route. A 405 degree loop, right turn down the drop off, back up around the side to the bottom of the circle. I felt like one of the teens that would stop by on their big dirt bikes that they would ride all over the adjoining property. On one pass, that my dad actually got on film, I didn't take my finger off the throttle to go down the drop off. Maybe I forgot, Maybe I was living up to my nickname. Whichever it was, I took that drop off at full throttle catching 6 feet of air, landing on my belly. I was sprawled out at the bottom. My bike on it's side sputtering, more wounded than I was.

My most recent moment of catching air was when I lost control of my van on ice. Ramped up a tree doing a 180 in the air before landing. I don't think losing consciousness from a blow to the head qualifies this as a stuck landing either. However, I did go through it with no fear. Not the, reckless invincibility of a 9 year old lack of fear. It was the lack of fear that comes with peace, knowing that God is with you no matter where you are and what's happening.

There is a huge difference between having no fear because you don't think you'll ever die and having no fear because you know where you're going when you do.

A quick Bible search of the phrase "Do not be afraid" brings up 70 references. My favorite one is in John 14, where Jesus spells it all out. It takes place during the Last Supper, the Passover meal. He tells them that He is the Way, promises the Holy Spirit, and gives them His peace. "Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid". The men Jesus is speaking to are about to have their world shaken and He is preparing them for it.

God in all His Majesty, who by all rights is too Great to be accessible, gives us access to Him through His Son Jesus, Yeshua; by His Holy Spirit. We know this promise is for us as well. In John 17 after Jesus prays for His disciples, He prays for all that will believe in Him through their message.

This is where "sticking the landing" becomes a moot point. It's not about landing on your feet in the perfect pose or falling down, or even if you're injured or not. It's about faith, the journey you choose to be on. You either believe that Jesus is who He said He is and receive the greatest gift you could imagine, or you don't. And if you believe, what are you doing with gift He has given you?
Are you using it?
Or are you afraid to unwrap it?

My Journey with Mom...

My plan was to wait on writing about my Mom. Wait till after I had written down a few of the growing experiences God had graciously used to prepare me for her death. Those moments however, are not what is burning in my thoughts.

First off let me just say that this, or any of my writings that involve others, will NOT be an inspection of their defaults. My Mom and I did not always agree, sometimes in a very passionate way. That was always about opinion, never about love. As a parent myself, I know how hard it is to be "perfect". We do the best we can and sometimes we make mistakes. That doesn't mean we don't love and want what is best for our children.

Exodus 20:12 states that we are to honor our father and our mother...

So how do I write about my mom and the disease that took her, without dishonoring her? Well that's just it, my mom had a disease. She didn't wake up one morning and decide that liver cirrhosis was how she preferred to go, it just crept up. The changes were so gradual we adjusted to them, accepted them as normal. But slowly, Mom was being taken from us.

She was a beautiful woman with a beautiful voice. A hard worker. Fantastic cook. Gracious hostess. Compassionate nurse. Very intelligent, she continued her education till her retirement. I have so many good memories of the two of us going out together without the boys. Having some girl time. Singing with the car radio, pumping gas, going shopping, playing in the backyard together, playing cards. Slowly though, over a time of some 30 years, she began to change.

During the last few weeks of her life, I got to spend many hours with her. Our roles had reversed somewhat. She was trusting me to help her make decisions, yet she was still my mom and deserved all the honor and respect that comes with that..."honor your father and your mother".

Once in the hospital, her health deteriorated rapidly. Her body was failing and there was nothing they could do to stop it. She was very afraid and confused. Being with her was the most painful thing I have ever experienced, watching what she was going through. Unable to do anything to bring her comfort. But I had to be there, she trusted me and needed me. It broke my heart.

Then Wednesday came.

Wednesday morning she rallied. Greeted us as we walked in the room. She was sitting up tasting everything she had on her food tray. I had not seen her even remotely interested in food in a long time. As we visited, she became interested in a show on the television, on fashion. She even shushed us so she could hear about the dress...and the shoes! She loved those shoes!

There it was! The blessing in the midst of such sadness! There was my Mom! The one I remembered from my childhood and our 'girl time'. The woman before the disease. Dad and I were so happy to see the change, not realizing at the time how short lived it would be. Both our hearts were lightened. It truly was a blessing, one worth all the pain surrounding it.

I believe God gives us these moments. These little lights in dark tunnels to let us know He is there and that He cares about every detail in our lives. As if He is saying "I am here", "be at peace, I got this".

Mom passed a week later on Thursday, while I held her hand. I had let her go, told her she had been strong long enough and it was time to rest. She stopped breathing 30 minutes later.
As humans, we want to hold on to what we know. We think this life and body are all there is.
We can not see beyond earth, so we hold on to it.

Faith is believing in what you cannot see. My Mom's death has strengthened my faith. It has not left me questioning God. It has not caused me to doubt Him. I saw God moving throughout my last weeks with her, because I looked for Him. I know He will continue to comfort me when I get sad over her death.
I will always have Wednesday.

"For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the LORD, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future."  Jeremiah 29:11

Onions vs. Watermelons

Well let's just dive right in!
This is one of my deeper contemplations, musings...
What is the difference between onions and watermelons?
Simply put, an onion has layers (yeah they can stink, but we're not going there) and a watermelon is rind around a center (seeds or seedless, doesn't matter).

I am an onion.  I have many layers!  Matter of fact, I have too many layers.
Almost to a fault. Many of life's experiences had caused the outer layers to become faulty. Damaged. A little rotten. Some were hard...hard as stone.  They had to go.
When I first started peeling off the layers, it seemed as though I was just peeling off the outer skin. You know those brown, paper thin, aged, dried up then tough layers that come in contact with the elements and dirt. The protective layers.  It took awhile to get down to the fresh and fleshy ones that juice out when you cut into them. Some layers are thick, some are thin. But I've learned that they have a specific sequence to them and you can't peel off a layer underneath until you peel off the one on top of it.

In the early years of layer peeling, I would notice that not everyone was an onion. Some people would have these amazing moments of "getting it" and everything would open up to them. I used to look at them in utter confusion (even envy) as I struggled with my layers. Years would go by, seriously, like 20 years went by before I figured out that these people are watermelons. All they have to do is cut through the outer rind and wham, all the inside flesh is exposed!

There is nothing wrong with being a watermelon! I too have had occasional watermelon moments.

So whether you're an onion or a watermelon doesn't matter one bit. What matters is the heart. What is the condition of the heart?
Ezekiel 36:26~"I will give you a new heart and put a new spirit in you; I will remove from you your heart of stone and give you a heart of flesh." (NIV 1984)

God has given me a new heart and put a new spirit in me. It no longer matters that I struggle with layers. The journey of peeling them off one at a time has been a good one and well worth it.


This blog will be where I share about the lessons God has taught me, my journey...

My lighter thoughts will be shared on my other blog:
http://randomthoughtsofkaren.blogspot.com/