It Was a Dark and Stormy Night

I love fall storms. Or storms any time of the year actually. The only bummer is that fall storms hastens leaf fall, and it won’t be very kind to the rest of my chrysanthemums either. But I still love the sound and the wild sky.

My chrysanthemum blooms never get as big as they should because I just can’t bring my self to do the disbudding that makes for big blooms. These are called Prom King and have become some of my favorites. Next year I’ll buck up and disbud and then I will begin to wear big fall corsages where ever I go. I’ll pin it to my wool coat then put on my pill box hat and slip my hands in my dress gloves. You know, the glove thing isn’t all that silly, well neither are hats that slow heat escaping from your head and of course the attributes of wool coats are as obvious, but the dress glove has been wrongly tossed aside. It is not just an unnecessary frill of days gone by. Think of all the germs you would not come in contact with if you pushed a grocery cart with gloved hands.

In the summer when the rambling rose that twines itself through the blue spruce blooms, the blue of the spruce comes alive. I always forget that the fall colors against the spruce make an equally stunning contrast. I am very glad that I have a few more years to watch the seasons change here at the farm. Thankful that I have a few more years to drink in the delights and beauty that surrounds me here.

Sunday was a very hard day for me. I worked through giving up all the concern over the uncertainty in our lives amid the grief over loosing an important person in our lives. Over and over I told God that I trusted Him, over and over I prayed that the Holy Spirit would speak to Dirt and we would know what we were to do.

You see dear reader, we only rent this beautiful farm and funky little farmhouse. Dirt and I have always known that God would ask us some day to leave here and go to a new place. I knew it was good that we merely rented because I could not imagine leaving a place that we owned and do God’s bidding elsewhere. But when we found out about Dale’s accidental death I was not ready, Dirt is not able to retire from teaching and relocate, two more girls still to finish growing up on the farm. I had a hard time on Sunday when it was presented to us that Dale’s family was most likely going to take Dale’s wife, their mom, to live with them a few miles away.

Sunday afternoon my head swirled with speculations and struggles and some anger. Anger at feeling as if my time to grieve had been stolen from me. With much prayer for release from concern and disappointment, with purposed thoughts of thankfulness for what we have already been given, and acknowledgement of my security in the hands of God alone, I was able to go to bed content. Not resigned, but truly content and peacefilled.

I was able to whisper to my husband that I trusted God, and that I trusted that the Holy Spirit would speak to him and he would know what we were to do and where we would go. I woke up in the morning with the same contentment and peace. It stayed with me all during the day. As my husband and I made a quick trip to the little town down the road, I was able to honestly tell him that I was okay, and looking forward to the new turn in our adventure together. I could see that our possibilities were endless and would be exciting and good.

We came home to a nice evening, boysenberry pie for the ice cream Dirt and I went after and news that our dear Norine was going to stay in the home that she and Dale built together twenty-two years ago, twenty-two of their fifty years together. That was Monday.

And now it is Thursday. My back, shoulders and arms hurt like when I had my Transverse Myelitis attack, I feel dopey and I’m tired of crying at the oddest of times. I didn’t have anything to do today but be on the phone for two and a half hours with HP about my computer. What a mistake. I didn’t exercise, I didn’t work outside, barely walked outside. I’ve been sleeping a lot since Tuesday. The storm today is very fitting, it fits with how I feel. But I really do enjoy the rain and the storm.

It’s like I have a complaint to register but I have no one to register it with. But I will feel better tomorrow and I’ll tell you a funny story about being dyslexic or old or both.