Happy feet…

When Statler, our black cat starts winding around my feet, I know he’s wanting some love. Some “mommy pick me up and cuddle” time. As soon as I do, his paws start opening wide, then closing right. I call this his “happy feet”.

This week, I also have happy feet, for the first time in years. I was born with my right foot twisted in towards my left. It was corrected with braces before my memories begin. Over the years, I had to wear “corrective” shoes. They were ugly, expensive and invariably made my long flat feet look even bigger than life. For a few years in my early twenties, I tried wearing ballet style shoes, and heels. That didn’t last long, as the pronation caused ankle pain. To a podiatrist I went and I have worn orthotic inserts ever since. They would relive the pain for a few years. When the pain returned, I would try a different style of orthotics. Sports shoes were my life, but I wanted to wear sandals during the summer with dresses. I took a few summers wearing sandals, and seemed to do OK. It’s probably good we have short summers here.

Anyway, over the last three or four years, I noticed a bone had shifted in my arch area. I began had a three month episode of crushing pain at the end of the day that would cause me to limp horribly. Not good for the back or hips or knees. I could no longer wear my Birkenstock’s, as that dropped bone hit the arch area hard, and it was downright painful. The pain in the inner ankle continued to increase, making walking uncomfortable. I began to limit my activity around the house and property, and stopped walking with friends. I went through several sets of orthotics during that time, each set working for a while, but the pain eventually returning. Soon, I began experiencing unbearable pain with my first dozen steps each morning. After a bit of research, I decided to sleep in a plantar fasciitis brace. It keeps your foot flexed at a bit over 90 degrees. I figured if the tendon was shrinking at night being relaxed, and the pain was from re-stretching it, then keeping it in a semi stretched position would help. It did. No more pain in the morning. The daily pain continued to increase. I went to one foot doctor who listened to my symptoms, looked at my X-rays, but never touched my foot, only to tell me that it was just a matter of time before I would need surgery. No compassion, no intermediate options presented. The other day, I went to another foot doctor, basically to be told that I just needed better orthotics, and he could sell them to me because the ones I was wearing were crap. I asked about options, specifically if physical therapy could help. He pooo-pooed it and said it was structural, better orthotics would fix everything.

I left his office in tears feeling without any hope for a pain free future. I decided to make an appointment with a physical therapist any way to ask if it could help my condition. While we talked, the therapist worked my foot, twisting it, pushing on bones, etc. She said it was definitely a good fit and recommended an exercise and dry needling (acupuncture) to relax the muscle the tendon was attached to. I said I would do anything. By the time my first session was done, the dropped bone was up again, not to its original position, but definitely better. The muscle in my calf felt beat up, and I had a tight piece of tape around my foot, which was uncomfortable. She said that because I have always had a structural issue, we probably couldn’t get it back to 100%, but could get it at least 50-75% better. I couldn’t stop the tears of joy. The best thing I left with that day was hope.

Yep! That’s one of my long, size 12, narrow feet.

Twenty four hours later, the tape has relaxed and doesn’t hurt anymore, my calf feels great, and I walked up the stairs on my toes again, not flat footed like I have had to for the last few months. Monday I get my current orthotics adjusted for my new foot structure, and I have happy feet too! The pain has been minimal today, and I have hope. My attitude has changed, I am not consumed with worry about whether I will be able to walk next year, and I feel like a weight has been lifted from me. My soul is at peace. I even slept better last night.

Hope is a powerful thing. I pray that you can find hope for whatever it is that you are worried about, and that your soul can find peace in hope, and that you can have Happy Feet today!

Freedom…

Good Morning. I need to write this down while it is still fresh in my mind. Last week was a hard week. Nothing awful happened, I just had some life baggage that needed to be dealt with.

A little history: I am a 56 year old woman. I was married at 20, had our first child at 22, the next just after my 25th birthday. We were married for 13 years when I was blindsided by my husband having an affair and wanting a divorce. I knew our marriage wasn’t perfect, but I didn’t know it was that bad. We didn’t talk about our relationship. God brought my current husband into my life a couple days after my ex filed for divorce. Our divorce was uncontested and a month later it was done. One miracle that happened with the divorce was that I never wanted to put my hand to it. It was his decision, not mine. In the state I resided in, if one party does not show up and contest, the judge signs it into action, without me signing it. Not that I don’t acknowledge the legal proceeding, I just didn’t want my approval of the action via signing.

Fast forward: My honey and I will be celebrating our 23rd anniversary in a few months. We recently were having a conversation about some health issues and how we were going to deal with them. My honey was talking about a gal he was seeing for a type of physical therapy, when he made some comments that triggered fears from my pst marriage. I held it together, calmly finishing the conversation. But when I headed to bed, the tears began, the fears flooded my brain, my thoughts spiraled out of control to dark places of doubt, planning for a future without him, wondering what I do to make the men in my life desperate enough to have affairs. No, my husband was not having an affair. I knew that rationally, but fear is a powerful force.

It took a few hours to finally drop off. Because of the stress, I arose super early. I really didn’t want to talk to my honey, and I knew he would want to if he saw my “puffy, I’ve been crying” face. So, I took off before he woke up to deal with myself, to pray and figure things out. I headed down to our local lake and sat in the parking lot. As it began to rain, I closed my eyes to listen to the soothing sound, only to have it disrupted by the sound of seagulls next to my car.

I opened my eyes to see what the ruckus was about. Seems that two males were arguing over a female. I began to think about something I had been reading about animals, fight or flight, and stress. And as I sat there, I feel like God’s Holy Spirit spoke to me. Here’s what I heard. Animals have to deal with frequent fight or flight in life and death situations. You are not in a life or death situation. You are in an unpleasant moment. Life is just a series of moments. Some pleasant, some not so much, some hard, some easy, some victorious mountaintop experiences, some are darkest valleys of death. But no matter, life is just a series of moments.

My tears stopped, my fears fled, and I felt peace flood my soul. I knew I would live through this. The worst that could happen is my fears are confirmed, he leaves me and I continue living. I have been through that valley before and came out stronger on the other side. I felt like I could actually talk to him rationally about our decisions, some red flags I had about one protocol, without any emotion getting in the way. And not because I had stuffed my emotions, or emotionally severed the tie with him (which is what my fears kept telling me to do). It was because if there was anything inappropriate happening with him and his therapist, that was his baggage to deal with, not mine.

I went on with my day, and was actually looking forward to watching a big basketball game with my honey that night. We had a fun night and I thoroughly enjoyed my time with him. The next morning, we talked. I shared my “triggers” with him and how I responded, and my day. I wasn’t afraid of what his response might be. I knew it would just be a moment. One of many. He began to apologize for what he’d said, and I was able to lovingly say, “You have nothing to apologize for. This was MY problem, my baggage that needed to be unpacked and put away, hopefully never to come back out again.

After our conversation, which went surprisingly well (stupid fear!) we both went about our days. I wasn’t stressed, I was at peace. Still am a week later. Although, at least to my brain, the phrase “Life is just a series of moments,” doesn’t seem very spiritual, I truly believe it came from God, the one in the Bible. His words always bring peace. Even the hard words that convict me that I am the one in the wrong. And I am a better person for listening and doing whatever he says.

That phrase brought freedom to my soul and broke the chains of fear, doubt and self condemnation. That’s what Jesus/Yeshua preached. Relationship with the creator of all things. Relationship that cuts through all the crap we accumulate in our hearts because of living our own way, and brings freedom, when we listen, hear and obey. In the Bible, there is a verse in the book of John, chapter 8, verse 36. If the son shall set you free, you shall be free indeed. I was enslaved to my fears, to my past, to my triggers, to the enemy of my soul. I am no longer a slave to them, to Satan. I have been set free by my Creator. I belong to him now. He is my Father now. I pray that if you have not experienced this type of freedom, that you will stop, and ask him to speak to you, to set you free. Then, choose to follow the one who set you free. Read his written love letter to you, the Bible. May today, have a victorious, mountaintop moment for you!

My threshold…

I am overwhelmed. A friend’s brother in law was killed and she is grieving. Another friends husband was hospitalized due to Covid. The situation in Afghanistan is gut wrenching. Another college friend is battling for his life against cancer. My hauling truck (van) broke down. We have a chunk of flooring removed in our great room where the kitchen table should be deafeningly loud fans, heater and dehumidifier running in our main room to dry the subfloor out. Plus a huge chunk of the wall open to the siding due to a ductless heat pump split head that, apparently has been leaking since being installed a year ago. Our spending is out of control. Food prices are horrendous! I can’t get out of the supermarket for under a hundred bucks anymore, and get fewer bags. There has been so much to do trying to get all the outside projects done before winter that I haven’t been napping in the afternoons, which is critical since I am waking up at 4am every morning no matter what time I go to sleep. My honey is stressed because of his job, which stresses me. Retirement is five years away, and we don’t feel prepared. I can’t travel to see our daughter and grandsons oversees because her country is closed to tourists. She can’t come here because of the unpredictability of international travel.

It was finding the floor water damage that really pushed me over the top of my threshold. I call it my “I need a good cry and a piece of chocolate cream pie” threshold. I told my chiropractor that when he asked how I was doing, and he proceeded to explain to me why a good cry helps. Apparently tears of joy or sadness are chemically different from overwhelm tears. Overwhelm tears actually clear out excess stress hormones from the body, thus, making you feel better.

Which leads to a less stressed ending to this post. It is amazing to me that our creator, created our bodies to self cleanse out excess chemicals/hormones that can be toxic if left inside. That is a miraculous thing! At least in my book it is. Now, if I can just get past the feelings of embarrassment and let the tears fly when they want to come out, instead of stuffing them for a more convenient moment… Here’s to a good cry, chocolate pie and better health because of it. And huge praises to the Creator who made our bodies such amazing machines!!

Country living…

In October last year we lost our beloved Spanky cat. About a month ago we lost my father’s cat PK. For the first time in 22 years of marriage we are without an animal in the house. So it comes as no surprise that we were delighted when the neighbor barn cats came to visit while we were sitting on our porch watching the sunset. It has become an almost nightly ritual now. My honey gets home from work, we go for a quick walk, as we pass the neighbor’s home the cats come out and join us for the second half of the walk then follow us home to our porch. My honey hangs out with them while I get his dinner and then we sit and pet the cats and chat while watching the sunset. When we begin to get cold, or I start to yawn too much we say good night to the cats, and turn off the lights. We go inside, and they go home. And we wait for another day and another visit.

Needless to say our hearts have been captured by these two unnamed felines. They are unnamed because they just showed up at the neighbors house a few years ago. Since they weren’t sure they would stick around, they just called them grey cat and black cat. We have nicknamed them Notch and Spunky. Notch is the gray tabby who has a notch out of his ear from a recent fight. Spunky is a slim black female who is extremely skittish yet very loving. The title of my post was inspired by a phone call the other day. The neighbor whom these cats “belong” two called around 11 in the morning. She politely asked if I had seen the black cat at all that day. I had said no and asked why. She explained that she was concerned that she may have gotten eaten by coyotes that night. Apparently we had a visit from a pack of coyotes and they were making such a ruckus she was sure they had eaten her cat since she hadn’t seen her. I expressed my sympathy and my hope that maybe the cat had just been so spooked that she was very slow in coming out of a hiding spot. We both said we hope so. I spent the next half hour or so consoling myself and explaining to myself that that is the way country living is. Animals come and go, there was a food chain and I had better get used to it. My eyes teared up anyway and I felt myself being sad that we would no longer get to have Spunky to warm our laps and hearts while we enjoyed the sunset. I am pleased to say an hour later, the owner sent me a picture of spunky and said guess who just came out of hiding! We were both thrilled to pieces!

I relayed the story to my honey when he came home from work. He too was glad she was alive. We discussed the possibility of getting our self some barn cats when our shop is done. But there is a part of me that doesn’t want to face the possibility of losing a creature that I love dearly. I know we probably will anyway I just hate that part.

So here I sit on my big cushy chair out on the front porch. The sun has just set each night the sunset is a little different sometimes it’s very calm and sedate sometimes it’s bold and vibrant and exciting. Sometimes it lasts a few moments and sometimes it just seems to go on forever. There are hills close by that are silhouetted in the light, and The lights of a small town sparkle at the base of them in the dark. Sometimes we hear the coyotes far away, always listening to the Killdeer sounds and sometimes being honored by a visit from the local owl.

We have loved every minute of living in the country and wish everyone could have this opportunity. It is peaceful and de-stressing, except for the coyote part. Something much-needed in the environment of the world that we live in today. I do know though, that living in the country is not the only thing that helps us de-stress. Sometimes just taking a walk in the cool evening in the summer can be helpful. Sometimes just sitting and reading a book. Or gardening, or playing a game with a child. I hope that you have been able to find the thing that brings peace to your soul during these trying times. Shalom

Why tears?

This morning’s local paper was filled with emotion for me. A long awaited obituary finally showed up and an article featuring my good friend and her store were in it.

About a month ago, we heard that the son of an old friend of ours died of a serious lung infection. We had been waiting for the obituary to show up with details of any celebration of life. It was nice to read what was written about the young man who died before turning thirty. Our kids went to school together. Our son was the same age as their older son and our daughter was the same age as their second daughter and they were friends. The son who died was a couple years younger.

After writing down the date, time and location of the celebration, I continued reading, only to find my dear friend, her daughter and their two stores featured in an article! What a pleasant surprise. Oddly though, as I read through it, so many tears fell. I still am not sure why. I am so proud of my friend and her daughter (my goddaughter) for what they have built together. I wished that I could have the same compassion she shows towards her customers. Sometimes I think I am too business like and a bit harsh. My ex- told me I was and that label has been a hard one to shake, in spite of being told by others how they see me. I wondered what I had to show for my life. What legacy am I leaving behind? I don’t have a store where I make people feel special, or shows that I have done something with my days.

After allowing myself to cry a bit. I reminded myself that sometimes as women, we just need a good cry. Nothing is wrong, it is just like taking a shower, only tears clean out our emotions instead of skin. I have plenty to show for my life. Children who are serving God and are responsible, loving human beings and parents. Grandchildren who are respectful and kind. Although it was God who gave the wisdom to raise children, I had to act upon it, I had to pray for them, and still do. I also have many friends whom we consider family and they consider us family. That is enough for me. My children and grandchildren are the fruit of my time, my prayers, my life. And, I pray that the way I live my life brings joy, and a smile to my Creator. Ultimately, that will be the crowing achievement for me.

Today, look beyond what the world labels as success. And may you be content with what you see. And if you aren’t, each moment that follows this moment, is a new chance to start something that will bring contentment, or change, or whatever you are seeking for.

Being home…

Today and tomorrow I am babysitting a friend’s three kids. It has been a long time since I haven’t worked at the property all day or been out running errands for the building project. I forgot how much I love being home and being a homemaker.

My day started at 11:55pm last night. I had been asleep for about an hour when I heard the dreaded smoke detector chirp. It startled me awake sending me into fight or flight. I crawled out of bed and met up with my honey in the hallway while trying to figure out which detector was chirping. Of course, it has to be the one at the peak of the vaulted ceiling. My honey put on some slippers, grabbed the key to our shed and headed out the back door to get the ladder. We removed the detector, then the battery and headed back to bed. Sleep tried to elude me as I laid in the dark, wondering how we would change the detector batteries at our new home, with a vault considerably higher than the one here. After a couple games of solitaire on my little handheld game, I was able to fall asleep. The sugar and gluten I had eaten woke me at 4:30. I used the toilet, crawled back into bed and gave the cat a minute of attention before drifting back to sleep.

After waking again at 5:30, I decided to give up on getting more sleep. I knew my alarm would be going off soon. I needed to eat breakfast, feed the cat, do my morning chores, bring the papers in and read the funnies before 7:00am. The van windows would take about five minutes to clear of frost enough to drive to the property by 7:15. There I would load up three windows, take them into town to get them tinted for the fake gables, pick up our two older grands at their mom’s work, and get back to my house by 9:00am to be home for when a friend was going to drop off her three younger kids for a couple days. This would be the first time they could be without kids in a couple years.

The rest of the day was filled with prepping lunch for everyone before hearing “When’s lunch?” “I’m hungry!” Same for snacks. My 12 year old granddaughter and I prepped a batch of chicken enchilada soup together, for them to take home. They are moving closer to us this week, and I know how hard it can be to plan meals and cook when you are packing and moving. The soup, and another meal were instant pot ready, which I knew she/mom would be keeping out. There were some minor altercations to deal with, a few hurt feelings also, but the laughter and squeals of joy far outnumbered the unpleasantries. Our grands and the three other kids finally found a play rhythm and fun ensued.

Dinner was prepped by snack time, and I felt relaxed and content, noise and all. I had forgotten how much I love being a housewife/mom/grandma. I get great pleasure from happy children noises, meals ready when hunger sets in, reading bedtime stories with funny voices, hugging and comforting a child whose feelings got hurt. I love being home.

My mom used to tell me I was born in the wrong century. I should have been born in the Little House on the Prairie days. I would have loved that life. I often find myself trying to recreate the simplicity of that lifestyle. Being a mom who raises kids to be responsible, loving, hard working human beings. Cooking and preserving. It suits me. It may not suit everyone, but I find myself in it. And life is best when we find our lane, and stay in it, instead of trying to be what others think we should be.

With the new year upon us, if you are doing any introspection or resolutions, I hope you will find or decide what you are best at, and resolve to stay in your lane, regardless of the peer pressure to do contrary. And, may you find great joy and contentment in doing so.

HAPPY NEW YEAR!

Goodbye dear Spanky…

Today, we had to say goodbye to our sweet girl Spanky and I need to share.

Spanky was a stray who came into our lives twelve years ago. A black cat who wore a white bikini. She was pregnant when we found her roaming the neighborhood. We started feeding her, but left her alone, thinking she might go back to wherever she belonged. She gave birth to three kittens in the a roll of carpeting, in the back of a neighbor’s truck. We decided to take her in when the young neighbor showed up at our door with a pure white kitten in his hands asking what he should do.

At that point in time, we had four adults, two dogs and two cats already living in our home. Fortunately our home and our hearts had enough room to fit her in. She quickly became a part of the family, although she truly preferred being a one pet family. She tolerated the other animals, and people, and became extremely loyal and attached to my honey and I. It took us almost three weeks to find the perfect name for her. I remember lying in bed next to my honey tossing names about, when he said, “How about Otis Spankmeyer the third? Spanky for short”. It fit her a personality, and the name stuck.

She was the youngster in the house. We got her spayed, and she outlived all the others. In 2011, we became empty nesters. My dad had retired, and my folks decided they wanted to spend some retirement years in their own place. They had moved in with us several years earlier when we purchased a large home with in law quarters. They took their cat with them. We downsized, just us and the two cats. A while later, we had close friends, family really, who were moving from another state to our town. They moved in with us for six months while they found jobs and looked for their own place. A few days later, I found cat pee on my down comforter on my bed! My first thought was that our older cat had started to lose her faculties. She was, after all, fifteen years old. We battled the peeing for a few weeks, and I was ready to put her down. Until… one day I walked into the room and found Spanky on the bed trying to hide some fresh pee!!!! That little stinker!!

A regimen of canned pumpkin for a possible bladder infection and replacing the comforter put an end to the peeing. The vet said she may have just been mad at us for bringing change into the house. She ended up having a love hate relationship with the guy who moved in. He loved to tease and play with her, and in later years would treat her to pieces of shredded mozzarella cheese when he visited.

Spanky loved to play hide and seek with her daddy when he arrived home from work. Often running from him into a room, waiting for him to come find her, and when he did, she would bolt to a different room. She was a triller too. Whenever she would jump, awaken to a pet on the head, she would let out a squeaky little trill. It was like an early warning that she was coming up into the bed to cuddle. She loved to cuddle in the mornings. She would crawl under the covers with me for about 15 minutes, and she would stretch out next to her daddy a little later in the morning for love. At night, she loved being scooped up by her daddy like a baby, and would gently paw at his chin while he stroked her back.

She was a hunter, and cleared the backyard of voles when we first moved in. Patiently she would wait at a hole, watching and listening, sometimes for a half hour, before suddenly springing and flinging a one of the little creatures into the air with her teeth.

These past couple months were filled with many vet visits, and she quickly gained a reputation as the “infamous Spanky” amongst the vets. They even marked on her chart beware of fast teeth.

Our favorite thing was sitting in the backyard on a warm sabbath morning, drinking coffee and watching her chase bugs in the backyard.

The tears and sobbing comes and goes. I know that with time, the hole she leaves in our hearts will shrink. We are entering another chapter of life. She brought us great joy, we brought her great joy. No one is immortal except the Almighty. But, the hole she leaves in our home may well make space to bless another abandoned animal in the future. She will be desperately missed. Rest in peace with no more suffering, our dear Pookie Bear, our Spanky Girl.