A New Day

It IS a New Day. Spring has arrived. Officially. On the calendar and, my granddaughter tells me, spring has even arrived in the Cascades of Washington. Of course, in Texas we have a lot of spring off and on through the winter. But, now we have more sunshine and soon we Texans will complain loud and long about the intense heat.

BUT, Today IS another day that the LORD has made. And I have made a decision that I WILL REJOICE and BE GLAD in EACH NEW DAY.

A New Beginning. Praying new prayers in my old rocking chair.

Because I do have new days filled with blessings in spite of the trials, I am starting new posts on my old blog.  I want to share joy and healing and God's incredible love.

Since there is always a back story, I will share here the prologue and the epilogue from my book that I published last month. It is a collection of short stories I had written over many years, and I was invited to present it at a book signing at Emerald Oaks Retirement Community on February 27, 2019... two days AFTER my 82nd birthday. But, hey, sometimes late is okay.  The two short pieces posted below will keep the record straight both for those of you who are new to this written journey of new blessings as well as for long time readers who may have missed some of the gritty, daily details.


                                                 

                                                          CLIMATES for LOVE

                                         Short Stories of Love and Laughter

                                                                  by

                                                  Liz Hoyt Herbert Eberle

Page 5:

FIRST:
A Few Words of Truth

    For those of you who have read my work through the years, some
of these stories will be familiar, although I promise a new twit, here
and there.
   For new readers, of any age, I can only say, "Welcome. Thank
you for taking a chance to enter my make-believe world."
   For readers who are young, my fiction may seem 'strange.' I
prefer to think of it as, well ... 'old fashioned.' There are no dragons,
dinosaurs, or magic machines, but I hope you find some of the stories
refreshing, or even comforting. If you discover something vaguely
familiar, I hope you have courage to open the treasure chest of your
own old stories. It will be my thrill to pass the pen to young friends,
who will weave stories for yet another generation.
   To all of you who wander through these pages, I hope you find a
surprise rainbow, a ray of sunshine, or a windy blessing. 


Page 105:

VII. A NOTE FROM LIZ
19.  After the Storms 

    This little book has been in the works since 2012, when my
husband, Gus, and I made a plan: I would take a break from all
writing, even my family memoirs, and compile a book of my already
written fiction. My ‘storybook’ would debut on my 78^th birthday,
February 2015. Yes, roadblocks notoriously interrupt plans.
   As we resolved my own surprise health issues, I saw changes in my
husband’s health showing that our time together would be cut short. I 
shoved my books into the file drawer, and became caregiver. All my
writing stopped, except for medical charts, schedules, and procedure
manuals. But, we had five, sweet years together, focusing on each
other, with our families, making memories, and sharing good times.
   Six months after I lost my husband, and still wrapped in that
blinding fog of grief, my daughter, Melinda, and I traded the quiet and
good life in our country home, for apartment living in the loud city of
San Antonio. We were totally and completely lost. For a while.
   Life in our new home at Emerald Oaks took over. Strangers
reached out to us and quickly became friends; we learned our way
around; and we settled into our strange, new world. 
   You, new friends, are the ones who, unknowingly and lovingly,
pushed me into reviving my book of fiction.
   My hope is that you enjoyed meeting these very old friends of
mine, totally make-believe though they be. Your willingness to jump
into my head and my heart touches me—deeply.
   It is true that all of the stories in Climates for Love, were penned,
and all the characters named, many long years before our Emerald
Oaks Retirement was a place on the map … or even on Google.
   Friends at Emerald: We do weave silly and beautiful stories
together, and you will always be in my heart . . . . even though I
promise that you will never, ever show up in any of my fiction!
   Thank you for being the sunshine in my life.

Now, we are ready to begin again, to count new blessings, to pray together, and to share God's love in a new beginning. 

This is the day which the LORD has made,

I will rejoice and be glad in it.

Psalm 118:24

See you in a few days.

Liz

May 18, 2018
I have not written in my blog since my Beloved's health changed our lives. Now, I have managed to  live a year without him since he went to live with our Lord and Holy Father. Tonight I found a photo of my Gus when he was healthy and we enjoyed busy times. Wasn't he handsome? 

I then found a poem that those days inspired:

We sat together, my beloved and I,

     On the swing

At the end of a hectic day.

We talked a bit and shared the load

     While the sun slipped gently behind the hills.

We sat together, my beloved and I,

     In our rocking chairs

Stretching our legs, airing our thoughts.

We let our burdens go

     While twilight tiptoed around the clouds.

We sat together, my beloved and I,

     On the back porch

Shedding the pain of grinding lives.

We absorbed strength from each other

     While heaven sang a lullaby.

We walked together, my beloved and I,

     Back and forth around the yard

Finding words for a sweet surrender.

We said I love you or please forgive

     While warm breezes kissed our cheeks.

We sat together, my beloved and I

    on the front porch

Touching hands and minds and hearts.

Then with our souls at peace

     We heard the voice of God.

Years passed and our lives...and my memories... changed:

We sat together, my beloved and I,

     On his hospital bed inside our home

At the end of each hard day.

We talked a bit and shared the load

     While the sun slipped benignly behind the hills.

We sat together, my beloved and I,

     On his hospital bed inside our home

Learning to let our burdens go.

We gazed through the window watching the sky

     While twilight tiptoed around the clouds.

We sat together, my beloved and I,

     On his hospital bed inside our home

Shedding the pain of his hard Hospice life.

We enjoyed the precious, extra time we were given

     While heaven sang a lullaby.

We sat together, my beloved and I

     On his hospital bed inside our home

And found a sweet surrender.

We said I love you and please forgive

     While warm breezes kissed our ancient trees.

We sat together, my beloved and I,

     On his hospital bed inside our home

We touched hands and minds and hearts.

Then with our souls at peace

     We still heard the voice of God.

And, now, today:

I sit alone

On my one bed inside my new house

Searching for courage in my empty heart.

But my soul is restless

     And God's voice is silent.

     Our time together was beautiful, dear Gus. I will love you forever.  Your Bride, Liz
May 18, 2018.

Learning to Change

Change is relentless.

Change requires even MORE lists to make. Constantly. Quickly.

Things TO DO.

Things MUST DO.

     Things NOT DONE.

Lists for

Tomorrow.

Next week.

Today.

NOW.

I could write a book – IF I had more time. Which I don't and that is just as well: my readers who are also givers of care, would not have time to read the book. IF I found time to write the book.

Cut to the chase.

Fortunately, my foray into caregiving began uniquely: I RECEIVED the care.

Let me tell you, in case you don’t know: when a major health challenge strikes and you are tagged IT, life changes. When, suddenly, you are the one who cannot so much as get to the bathroom alone, your entire belief system changes. About everything. Drastically. Totally.

I did get well. Even at 76 years old, my health improved. WOW. A new chance to live life again.

By the summer of 2013, however, quiet warnings screamed that my husband’s health was going into big changes. Impaired vision. Stiff fingers. Weak legs. Hearing gone. My experience as the receiver of care had gifted me with new eyes so I embarked on a secret campaign to prepare.

I stepped back from myself and observed my days, routines, tasks, actions, and chores. I carefully considered how we used our time and I calculated our activities, schedules, and appointments. I paid attention to my husband’s actions, habits, movements, activities, and interests. I studied the layout of our home. I observed the flow of people and activities as we went about the act of daily living and as family and friends visited. I had the freedom to see, in advance, that the peaceful, easy, “normal” life we had enjoyed for twelve years on the hill would not stay the same.

My goals were simple:

Enable my husband to maintain his dignity.

Find joy in our adjusted daily living.

Create a safe environment.

Keep him at home.

Please note: I did not claim that my goals were EASY. Only basic.

Over the next year, the changes began in earnest. I studied my notes, cleaned out closets, assessed space. My husband began, voluntarily, to turn over to me first one household task and then another. Last winter, I began an immediate frontal attack on all my TO DO things. I had to find - - - 

Shortcuts

Easier ways

How to work smart

Step / Energy / Time savers

Yes, I admit it. At 78 years of age, I did time studies. Even I was surprised at how much can be done while the microwave heats one cup of coffee. Thirty whole seconds. I tamed bed making, kitchen chores, and laundry by learning what can be done in a matter of minutes. 

It is my firm belief that all of us can and should benefit from sharing life lessons learned the hard ways. Caregiving will never be easy. Even for the strong ones. The physical, emotional, and spiritual drains are beyond understanding until you walk in that particular, difficult, and unique moccasin.  

There are little things, daily things, surprising things that do make the journey easier. I will share some of my experiments on this page. We who provide care are a sisterhood--sometimes inhabited by brothers--and we can benefit from sharing our lessons. 

I will not jump into the raging waters of financial, agency, government, insurance help. There are sites for those things and the trip through the mess can be vicious.  

I will, however, share shortcuts and encouragement, and prayers.

FIRST: Three LITTLE things that HELPED. In BIG ways.

1.     Laundry baskets on wheels

Inexpensive. Air Vents. Lightweight. Handle. Wheels. Available at most box stores.
No lifting required. Just wheel them into the bedroom, pitch laundry baskets around, sit on a stool that doesn't hurt old knees,  and sort laundry. Saves amazing time and my strength.

2. Drying Frames

Lightweight. Easily folded to store in closet.
For all those delicates that will shrink or pile or fuzz in the dryer.
Wish I had done this years ago.
Inexpensive. Found mind at Amazon  

3. Atomic Clock

Gradually replacing all our clocks with this fabulous, new-fangled, atomic clock.
Works PERFECT. Changes itself when there is a time change.
Knows WHEN  to change.
Now I don't have to climb on a chair and struggle and do contortions to keep us on schedule.
 Ahhhh, sweet. Twenty bucks at Walmart !!!

Thank you for stopping by.

Please share with those you know who provide care to loved ones. My ideas, hints, words, prayers are small but posted with faith, encouragement, hugs, and love.

I have absolutely no understanding of how God's goodness and mercy work or why God heard my cry just as he heard King David's.  I do know, for sure, that His Word is true.

Blessings,

Liz

“In my distress I called to the Lord; I cried to my God for help. From his temple

he heard my voice; my cry came before him, into his ears. . . . .

He reached down from on high and took hold of me; he drew me out of deep waters.” 

Psalm 18.  6 & 16. NLT

     

Blessings,

L i z

Of Fireplaces and Traditions

 It was a glowing idea.  I did not need an alternative two years ago when my husband's endurance and health required him to stop bringing in wood and building our fires. I picked up the slack. We are a team. 

Local son kept firewood on our porch and several times a week, with my trusty pull-along, even on shivery cold days I could bring wood indoors and stack it next to the fireplace.

 

 

Under my husband's watchful eye and patient suggestions, every evening I built our fires.

All winter. We love our evening fires. Addicted might be the better word.

This year, it is now too much for me. Too much to lug, lift, shovel, squat, stoop, bend, lift, lug. Too much. I can't do it.

Okay, I said; no more wood fires.

Oh, I know: I will have a candle place. 

For days, I planned, thought, pondered, and decided yes! I must have something to flicker and glow.

Today was the day. I went to work with joy. One lone and charred log remained from the last fire we had just before Spring. I tossed it into the back yard and sang as I polished the glass doors, measured strips of aluminum foil, and cleaned candle holders.

I thought and arranged. Stepped back to assess. Rearranged and moved candles and assorted holders back and forth. Finally. Yes.

For the final touch, I added my collection of sea shells. I filled the floor of the fireplace, between all the glowing lights, with beloved treasures I had gathered and collected through many years. Shells from Texas beaches in Galveston, Rock Port, Corpus, and South Padre; from the white sands in Jacksonville, N.C.; from a memorable beach inTampa, Fl. and one in Charleston, SC. 

Perfect. Beautiful. I sighed deeply.  No, not the same as a blazing wood fire, but this is fine. I struck a long match and quickly the candle place glowed and flickered.

What? Did you say something about pride?  ... a fall???? 

Within an hour, one large candle melted down its center core and spilled all over the floor of the fireplace. At least that aluminum foil idea paid off.  I cleaned up the wax, added a few tall tapers, and surveyed. Okay.  Maybe . . .

Less than ten minutes, my tall, expensive tapers burned down to a figment of my imagination. No way could I keep the candles glowing all winter. Night after night. The town would run out of candles before New Year's Eve. 

Well.

I swallowed hard and quickly busied myself in the kitchen, clearing away the evening meal.

Still undone, I went to the laundry room. Sounds are muted there. I grabbed a few things to wash and as the washing machine roared to life, my tears started.

I cried. Hard.

Yes, I am ashamed. I am painfully aware that I am blessed beyond measure  with loved ones, with a safe, warm house, food to eat, and that I am still able to take care of my family and our home.  I give thanks, daily, for blessings upon blessings. But, I cried.

So many changes.

So many things we will never do again.

So many people already gone.

Stories still untold, trains not ridden.

A book not written.

Gardens that soon will not be tended.

Fireplaces that will not blaze a welcome.

Writers who no longer gather, warm their hands, and read their words.

Even as I asked forgiveness, the tears gushed.

It is just a silly tradition. It is just a fireplace. Its just a silly crackle and glow and flicker.

Yet, it is more. It is change. That cannot be reversed.

They say a wise woman knows when to give in. 

Tomorrow I will clean out the candle place, throw away the aluminum foil, and shut the glass door.

I will find a pretty, colorful, and large arrangement to set next to a comfy pillow on the hearth. 

I dried my tears and retrieved the piece of burned and charred wood from our last fire that I had carelessly tossed aside. I took it to the front rock garden and it will lie in state next to the piece of driftwood Gus and I picked up the last time we were on the beach. 

We did not know it was our last time.

Those two pieces of slowly rotting wood will remind me to make an intentional effort to pay attention and cherish even the mundane things. Even through the hard days. And I will smile more.

Blessings 3 Plus MANY

       I'm thirty-one days into my 78th year and after all those birthdays, you would think friends and familywould say, "Boring. That's a lot of birthdays. Let's find something more fun to celebrate."

      But, guess what?? I was blessed with a delightful birthday. This post will be boring and non-spectacular to most folks, but this is my blessing list so I'll write it down anyway!!

      My son called first. "Hi, Mom." 

And he was immediately the Fern Creek High School Marine Jr. ROTC Drill Team shouted, "Happy birthday, Master Gun's Mom. Yeaaaaaaa."

     Then my daughter grinned and said, "You HAVE to open this, Mom. NOW!"

Gift from my Daughter. The one with special needs.

The one who can't drive. The one who had to make specific and special plans.

The one who had to ask for help. The one who spent an hour in the store searching for the

perfect gift from her to me.

An angel. On a swing.

A hundred blessings wrapped up in one.

Next, the doorbell rang. Flowers from my son's family.
His delightful wife chose a flower arrangement that would keep on giving.
A dried wreath. Bright, colorful.
A new blessing every day when I walk into my dining room.

Another door bell. OH MY !!!
Flowers from my husband's first granddaughter and family.
The one who chose to allow me to be her Memaw.
The one who brings joy and delight and smiles and surprises
and who shares her life and her family with so many.
I'll bring out the Happy Birthday vase for each of our family's birthdays.
A blessing that will give over and over.

On my birthday evening,
my husbands son and his wife, who live down the road,
invited the three of us to their home to celebrate my birthday with a family dinner.
A delicious meal, made to order with laughter, hugs, visiting.
To be celebrated by my "step kids" blesses me every day.

And, to ensure my birthday did not stop with the delicious meal,
that special family sent these flowers home with me.
A month later, the yellow blooms are still spectacular.

Even though I am just today finally finishing this blessings post, last Thursday was, technically, the last day of my 78th birthday celebration. My writer pals took me to lunch. Local Italian. We spent about 90 minutes talking, praying, crying, sharing, and laughing together.

I am blessed. Many times over. May it be also with you.