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Category Archives: Journey

 

Note: I wrote this back in early August and am just now getting around to posting it. Granted, gardening season is over here, and is close to an end in other places, but read on. 🙂

One of life’s little lessons.

When we were out weeding the garden before Dad’s memorial, I was reminded of how important it is to weed our gardens daily. Not only our vegetable gardens but our life gardens. Weeds are those things that spring up and choke out the good plants. Good plants can be relationships, habits, thoughts… Weeds can be taking others for granted, ignoring needs of those you love, being self-centered and/or thoughtless. Or simply inattentive. Letting those weeds grow can be disastrous. At first they seem harmless, just a little sprout with a couple of leaves, when you think to yourself “I’ll worry about those tomorrow”. Then tomorrow and the next day, and the next pass, and then you have a weed that’s larger than your plant. Soon the weed is rooted around your plant and choking the life out of it. By then, if you pull the weed, you’ll also pull up your plant. Either way, your plant suffers, or perhaps even dies.

It’s just like cleaning the house. If you don’t do it daily, it piles up on you and then you can’t seem to dig out of the mess! Or the laundry, every mother knows how fast Mount Washmore can spring up! It’s better to do a little every day instead of trying to do a lot all at once!

Remember to weed your garden today.

Tell that special someone how important they are to you.

Hug your kids.

Kiss your mother.

Call a friend.

There are days when I’m just full of words. Words that I want to write or type out to share.

Then there are days when I can’t seem to find enough words to type out one simple message.

I seem to have more of those days than the other. I guess it’s because I have more to do now with home-school and the new job. Other days it is just because I don’t take the time to jot down what’s going on. And believe you me, if I don’t, then it’s gone the next day! 😉

Some days the words I want to write wouldn’t be appropriate for publishing…

 

 

 

Today is my Father’s birthday.

 

We will celebrate his life and remember him today.

 

We miss you!

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We will soon be celebrating Thing 2’s birthday. He’s my little Peridot! I was sure that he would be born later in the month, closer to Dad’s birthday (must have been wishful thinking) but he surprised me, at Wal-Mart.

I woke up that Friday morning feeling “different” but not sure about it being labor. I decided that just in case it was, I needed to go to Wal-Mart and get some supplies for my home birth that I still hadn’t got (remember I thought I had a couple more weeks). So I’m walking around Wally World pushing my little cart and the contractions started to come on good and strong. I’d stop and let them pass then shop on. Wouldn’t you know I ran into just about every person possible who wanted to stop and chat with me. The last one, a very chatty old friend, I finally had to say “I need to go, I’m in labor”. The look on her face was priceless. She wondered if I needed an ambulance! Ha!!

So I made it home in plenty of time, my Mom came up and did my belly cast (talk about last-minute!), Tana (my doula) arrived we got everything ready, the midwife showed up and he was born around supper time on his Grandma M’s birthday instead.

The Little Pirate and his ship at Dad's Cabin.

The Little Pirate and his ship at Dad’s Cabin.

Happy Birthday Lil’ CNW.!

The Birthday Boy and his cake.

The Birthday Boy and his cake that his sister made for him!

Blowing out the candles!

Blowing out the candles!

His new bike and helmet!

His new bike and helmet!

1 pound chicken breasts

½ cup tequila

½ bunch cilantro, leaves only

juice of two limes

salt and pepper

Place all into a zip-lock bag or bowl to marinate for 4-6 hours or overnight.

2 bell peppers, green or colors are nice, sliced

1 sweet onion, sliced

2-3 Roma tomatoes, sliced

1 jalapeno pepper, seeded and Julienne *can omit

Oil for sauteing

½ cup tequila

juice of 1 lime.

2 Tbsp chopped cilantro

Heat your pan over med-high heat.

Drain the marinade from your chicken, discarding, then slice your chicken breast if you haven’t already done so.
Add oil and chicken and stir-fry until your chicken until almost done, pour in the additional tequila and lime juice then add your veggies (and jalapeno pepper if desired) and finishing cooking until crisp-tender.

Garnish with chopped cilantro.

Serve with warmed corn or flour tortillas, rice, beans, pico de gallo and salsa verde!

Muy bueno!

A photograph of Mount McKinley from the Stony ...

A photograph of Mount McKinley from the Stony Dome lookout point in Denali National Park.     (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

State Tree: Sitka Spruce

Fish: King Salmon

Gem: Jade

Mineral: Gold

Bird: Willow Ptarmigan

Flower: Forget-Me-Not

Motto: North to the Future

Alaska was admitted to the union on
January 3, 1959.

Land Area: 586,412 square miles,
equivalent to 1/5 the size of the continental United States (AKA:
lower 48 or “outside”) and is way bigger than Texas.

Highest peak in North America: Mount McKinley (AKA: Denali) 20,320
feet in elevation.
Kenai, where we live, is one of the oldest
permanent settlements in Alaska, dating back to 1792. You can find
jade on the beaches along with agate and jasper, and some say the
occasional piece of gold. We have significant Russian and Native
cultural influences here in our local area.

 

A little info about me. There are three things that I hate. Yes, hate.
#1 Being lied to.
#2 Being misrepresented (which is a form of lie, but where I’m not there to correct the misrepresentation).
#3 Being unfairly judged.
I hate them. And I suppose that no one else finds them too tolerable either. Guess this is where that Golden Rule comes in, Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.
Don’t bear false witness against or about me if you want to keep my respect. Don’t judge me based on someone else’s actions or without asking me about the situation.
I am not my Mother, not my Father, not my Brother-Sister-Anyone.

 

I am myself.

 

Influenced by genetics, my life experiences, my Faith walk, and the people in my life, yes all of that, but I am my own person. Judge me by my own actions if you must, just remember that the same measure you judge me by, you will also be judged.

 

Grief is one of those words that means so much, yet still not adequate in its definition. It’s an action, a state of being, something that we do and yet just happens to us, that is not one-size-fits-all. We all grieve differently.
Some people are doers, they express their grief by busying themselves with doing good things to remember those who have passed on and to help those who remain.
Some people get lost in their grief and need others to come along side them and walk through the grief with them. Maybe even to pull them out of their despair.
Some people ignore their grief and suppress it, only to have it rear its ugly head later as unwanted anger or resentment.
Some of us are all of the above I guess. You can’t really label grief entirely.

Love is another such word. It is an action, a state of being, it is not simply an emotion, no OSFA definition to the word or how people apply it in their lives. People express their love in various ways. Some are doers, some are “talkers” (who like to express via words rather than deeds), some are touchy-feely types who want to hug you all the time… 😉 We are all different and even different in various times and circumstances.

When someone is grieving and they express their desire to do something to honor the loved one, and/or the surviving loved ones, it is a disservice to deny them. If I’ve learned anything from my bereavement doula training it is this, people need to express their grief. Don’t shut them up. Help them to do so in beneficial and appropriate ways.

This does not mean to take advantage of generosity of course. There has to be a delicate balance.

Growing up I was greatly influenced by my Grandparents who believed that one should not take “charity”, as they called it. If someone offered to do something for you, or give you something, you should not take it, you could buy it from them, but not accept a gift. However, they would have been highly offended if someone didn’t accept a gift from them. Smacks of double standards to me and this mind-set is one that is quite contrary to Biblical thinking in my understanding. Certainly there is truth in not taking advantage of good-hearted individuals. Yet the whole of the “new testament” is about helping one-another. Feeding others who have no means at the time. Giving, helping, doing for others. Selling your own goods to help a brother/sister in need. All of this “charity” stems from a heart of love. How do you tell someone to not show their love? I can’t imagine that. Yeshua (Jesus) says that this is how the world knows we are his disciples, by our love for our brothers. It is the heart of the entire Law.

Now abides these three: Faith, Hope and Love (Charity), but the greatest of these is love.

Expressing our love during times of grief is paramount to the healing process. I want to honor my Father, do things that keep his good name alive, to keep his heritage alive because I love him. I guess I’m a type of doer in this regard. Many people are. I can’t imagine how I would feel if someone told me I couldn’t do that. It’s out of that place that I gratefully accept the love and honor that others give to my Dad, in his memory, to me and to others. And in time, I hope to return the love and honor to them in whatever ways possible.

 

 

 

There are two chairs in the sun-room at the cabin, a glider and an old style 60’s era chair that rocks on springs. It only had three legs. The fourth leg was an empty paint can. You had to put the can in just the right place in order for the chair to stay upright when you sat down.

 

The door to the cellar is on the side of the sun-room that the three-legged chair sits, so getting into the cellar is a pain… you have to move the three-legged chair, move the paint can, open the cellar, then do it all in reverse and hope you get the paint can repositioned properly.

 

One morning while I was moving the three-legged chair to sweep the floor I decided that I was tired of this arrangement! So I went to work fixing it.

 

I went out to the cut lumber and picked a piece with character to use as the new leg. Found all of the necessary tools and went to work. Some would think that this is a minor thing, and really it is, but for me, it was my first repair job at the cabin. I guess it gave me a sense of accomplishment in some ways. And at least now when I sweep or get into the cellar, I don’t have to worry about the paint can!

 

I don’t know how long my Dad had that chair or why he never fixed it himself, perhaps he liked having a three-legged chair that he could pull a prank on an unsuspecting visitor?? I don’t know. 😉 That might have been a good reason to leave it three-legged though.

 

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Dad’s Cabin while he was enclosing the porch to make the sun-room.

One of the things that was and is important and influenced my move up here is my Father’s estate. It’s important to me that my Dad’s last wishes be fulfilled, the way that he wanted them. My Dad had talked to a lot of people about his wishes, and I feel that they are pretty well-known. But no matter, someone always has to feel differently in these matters.

Dad didn’t have much, but what he did have was his life’s work: his cabin and his garden. He poured his blood, sweat and tears into building his place. These two things were so important to him. He wanted them cared for, lived in, loved the same way that he did. I get that.

Dad’s way of life doesn’t appeal to many people. The isolation, the remoteness, the rugged outdoors, it’s all foreign to most, and difficult to obtain for those who do desire it. In a way Dad lived a dream that many people will only ever dream about and never realize. With each trip out there I find myself more and more drawn to the quiet solitude, the beauty, the peacefulness that is my Dad’s cabin. I can see why he loved it so much out there.

It is a different way of life to be sure. After spending four days out there, adjusting to no time restraints and no draws of civilization, coming back to town is a shock in some ways. I can only imagine how much so it was for my Dad. Each time I’m out there it gets harder to leave and come back to town.

But a hot shower sure is nice!!