Good grief!

I think I got so involved in the much lazier way of using Facebook that I didn't keep up with my blog. Or something. So, I guess I'll try this for a while now that I've "opted out" of FB. It's kind of sad and kind of freeing. I have been pretty shocked at how much people share on there, about things that start out one way and end up something else entirely. It's like the old "Gossip" game, or the game of what we called "Telephone" back when... For those who don't know what I mean, it is a group of kids who have their leader...and that leader says a phrase into the next person's ear. That person tells the next one, and so on. By the time it gets to the end person, the phrase is changed totally. I never ever saw it come back the same at the other end. Facebook can kind of be like that. Stories grow, get changed and then someone gets the backlash of a story that has no merit. I just don't want to be a part of that, even though it means I'm far less able to quickly and easily open up the computer and be instantly transported to the world where my kids and grandkids, family and friends are sharing their lives. Oddly, it's not the aforementioned ones that have created the hurt. It's others, who should have no impact whatsoever, that have made me take a step back and look at this social networking place and wonder--why has it gotten such a hold on lives? The ease of use, the fast access to loved ones, the reconnections with people from long in the past, despite distance. On the surface it sounds fantastic and in a perfect world, it would be. But human beings have a tendency to enjoy causing pain to others, whether or not they realize it or not. It's like there's some sort of internal mechanism that gets a thrill or something out of making someone else's life difficult or painful.

Why? Why do people have this need to be superior (whether they actually are or NOT)? When we're born, we're naked, own nothing, know no one except perhaps the sound of our mother's (maybe even father's) voice... And yet we strive throughout our lives to get possessions, to gain power over others... And that power can be either something we TAKE from others, or EXTORT from others or BEAT OTHERS DOWN to obtain. It can be given, but it seems as if there is more of a thrill for the power-seekers to take it rather than have it granted to them. I know it comes from sin nature, but as the song goes, "Break us down by our elements, and you might think He failed / We're not copper for one penny or even iron for one nail / And a dollar would be plenty to by twenty of us / Until true love is added to these handfuls of dust... (Tony Arata)" Guess I have that simpleton view that says everybody's the same in the eyes of God. Don't expect to get love--real, honest love--if you don't give it back in equal measure because sooner or later that love begins to weaken and fracture, leaving you standing there holding onto the broken pieces that no longer have substance to hold onto. Hurting other people to make one's self feel bigger, better, stronger or more in control just shows one to be less...not more. There was a reason that Jesus said love one another...to love our neighbor as our self. Nobody is perfect and everybody has failures, mistakes (be they large or small) and commits sins. The best we can do is to get up every single day and start fresh. Talk to the Father. Share the hurts, the failures, the hopes and plans, and then just breathe. Walk. Move. Exist. LOVE. No greater love is there than this: That a man lay down his life for his friend. Wow. Intense.

So, for the first time in EONS, here is my current thoughts on my blog. Have a perfectly wonderful day!

Oh, how time passes

I just read my last blog. It turns out that it was just 5 days before Nels' dad passed away. What a day that was. It just happened so quickly... Now it's the end of April and I'm feeling guilty for not having kept up with this bloggy thing. Hmm.

So, we're going out to Oregon soon. Very soon! Yay! Kyle Michael Shore is gonna be born very soon and we can't wait! I'm sure he'll be a gorgeous little guy, full of intelligence and charm... :)

I'll post more when he comes, with pics, stories, etc. For now, I'm off to visit the sand man!

Wow. Life moves on...

I can't believe how long it's been since I blogged here. I had planned to be consistent with it, but lo and behold, I have not. Sorry.

So to catch up... I guess the last thing I wrote was way over a year ago when I wrote about Christmas memories. Yeah, that was a heavy memory for me but I still have that bittersweet pang inside my heart when I read that or think of those days. I miss them still. I miss having little kids to play with, to teach and to love. I miss sitting on the couch with one or another of my kids asleep with their head on my legs as I stroke their hair or smile down at the peaceful way they sleep there, so trusting of their mommy and the comfort I could give them. I miss the midnight talks in my room, piled on the bed, laughing or crying about something wonderful or painful...usually due to the teenage angst that we all go through at one time or another. I miss the things that we shared, and deeply miss the things that we did not share at that time.

Life has truly gone on. On October 3, 2009, I married my best friend, Nels Jensen. It's been a lot of hills and valleys, mostly lovely lush valleys, but a few hills as we struggle through the typical first year of marriage stuff...but our struggles aren't what I imagine are really typical because our life is pretty well wrapped around the every day, 24/7/365 care of his dad, who is in the last stages of Alzheimer's disease. Never are any two days alike. Most of the time, it's something new each day as my new father-in-law slips a little further away from us. Watching someone regress from what I would imagine is a normal 80-year-old mentality down to a power-hungry teenage thinker, to a small child, and now to a tiny infant is just heartbreaking. The weird thing is that sometimes, even in that tiny infant mindset, he can still have appropriate responses to those he doesn't speak to often.

Nels' daughter called this morning. When Nels took the phone in to his dad so that he could say hello to her, he was able to respond to her hello, and when she asked how he was, he said he was "pretty good" which isn't true, but is an appropriate response. Ten minutes later, as we were straightening his bedding and taking care of his needs, he tried to suck on my fingers like a little baby... I found myself wanting to flee the room in tears at the abruptness of the change. Tonight, he's not breathing well, has serious congestion and seems afraid to fall asleep. The in-home nurse that is coming from Arkansas Hospice has made it clear that she doesn't think he's got long to live (before Christmas, she mentioned 5 to 10 days, but he's passed that now) and I find in these past few days that I can believe that, more and more. Nels doesn't know what to do. Emotionally he's doing all right, but when he's in there with his dad, he's in tears as he tenderly feeds him yogurt or pudding (Dad's favorite foods currently), then wipes his face and combs his hair off his forehead. "I love you, Dad. You know that, right?" he'll ask. But there is no response. Not the bat of an eyelid or the glance of an eye. Afternoons and nights are the worst as "sundowner's syndrome" takes over, stealing what little ability that Dad has to communicate. It's like a cruel joke. There are times when I sense that for Dad, his inability to process information must be like listening to someone speak a foreign language and having them expect you to understand what they're saying. He must be so scared sometimes. That just tears my heart to pieces.

I worry about Nels. His health isn't good either, and his heart... well, I won't go there. I pray that God is merciful to Dad (and to Nels) and that this time passes quickly. It is awful to watch someone slip away from you--especially when they're right there... you can see them, touch them, talk to them, but they are gone. Who they are, were, or want to be is no longer present and accounted for.

My baby granddaughter Elina has been growing very fast---she'll be 2 in May! And I have another new little grandbaby on the way; Amy married Matt Shore this past fall and they will be having a little boy which they're naming Michael Dale (at least that's the current name they're planning on) sometime early this summer. Not sure of the exact due date but from personal experience, the date the doc gives is rarely the day the child is born on, anyway. I'm so excited to have another baby to love on... *SIGH* It's Sophie's turn now, and she better get with it before she's so old that it's hard on her. (LISTEN TO YOUR MOTHER, SOPHIE! hehe) Paul, as far as I now, has no current girlfriend. He's really waiting on the Lord for her to come along...

Well, if I don't quit writing now, I'm going to fall asleep here at the keyboard. It's 3 a.m.

Until later... I remain,

Angela Lynn Jensen.

Long time no...blog?

So I plugged in my new iPod iTouch yesterday to the special iPod speaker thingy I got for the bathroom and hit the shower. It was on random/shuffle, and a song came on that had me standing still there, with shampoo dripping into my eyes. Of course it was the shampoo that was making me cry not the song. Right. I'll stick with that one. Why not. So I'm standing there with shampoo on, a bar of soap in one hand, and this song starts. It's a Christmas song. Not my first choice for this particular time of the year, but you get what you get when you push the random button, right? So this sliding guitar note hits, and keeps going. Clint Black. "Last night, I dreamed I was a kid again... All the things I used to do, I went and did again... Spent the afternoon with my best and closest friend... Wanderin' through the days we thought would never end... It was back when I'd still get things from Santa Claus... Back when he believed in me and overlooked the flaws... That can grow inside until it hides the perfect little boy inside a man..." I was immediately transported back in time to a time that I didn't realize was as perfect, as wonderful, as beautiful as it actually was.

Paul, Amy and I went out into our backyard to the gigantic Cedar/Sequoia tree in the back yard and cut down a huge pile of boughs. Then we carried them around to the front porch. The air was cold and crisp--so cold that we could see our own breath, the rocks underfoot went crunch with breaking ice as we stepped on them and the stars were as bright as could be, glittering on their bed of midnight-blue velvet sky. We were laughing as the cold made our cheeks turn pink and our noses run. We got out a big roll of heavy-duty wire and cut a piece that stretched from the bottom of the stairs, across the living room, down the hall, through the dining room and all the way through what was the "play room" in those days. About 50 feet or so... Then we brought in the boughs and with finer wire, tied the boughs to the big wire, filling in gaps and making it very full. Meanwhile, Sophie and Evie were untangling the white lights that we would be using to wrap around our finished cedar-bough garland. In the background there was Christmas music playing. "The Gift: A Colours Christmas," as well as the first year that Clint Black's Christmas CD came out... Jim Reeves, Precious Child, John Denver... all the best and sweetest Christmas music was pumping out of our speakers as we sang along and laughed and tied green boughs to wire. The cold was insignificant. We had a warm fire in the woodstove and left the front door open to easily grab more boughs. The evening had gone dark early, so even though it would have made more sense to have done all this in daylight (and in slightly warmer conditions), due to school and other things, we took the time while we had it. Paul and I went out with the stepladder and hammer, a few nails, and put up the garland in the dark. How beautiful it was! After cleanup time, everyone went to bed. The next night was Friday, so as soon as school let out, we piled into the van and headed for West's tree farm out on the old Santiam Highway near Waterloo. Before dark, barely, we found the perfect tree. Now, it may not have LOOKED perfect to most folks, but to us, it was great. A real "Charlie Brown" tree, lopsided and missing branches in interesting places. But I had an idea of how those bare spots would be filled in. We got home and started rearranging furniture, so there would be a place for the tree. Once we were satisfied with that, we sprayed a little frost on the tree from cans purchased days earlier at Wal*Mart, then tossed on some irridescent sparkle. Soon the tree was in place and we were tying golden bows, hanging red and gold ornaments and glittering beaded garland on those boughs of frosty green and laughing as we sang along with those same songs we'd heard the night before. The tree was finally ready, so we got out the other decorations to display. A Mary, Joseph and Jesus statue, some little bears in ceramic that we'd had for years, along with a few other knick-knacks and odds and ends...mustn't forget the candles...and then the decorating was done and cleanup was in order. The kids were very tired by then, however, so I quickly fixed some supper (probably a Hamburger Helper lasagna or other quick-to-fix food) and then all of the kids went to bed. I was up late--very late--cleaning, dusting the tables, sweeping and mopping... with the music down low so they would sleep. 

At the time, I had no idea just how beautiful, how perfect, that two-day experience was. 

How odd it is, that so often in life, the most perfect moments are rarely recognized as such when they're taking place... It's only later, when the years have grown long with passing seasons, when changes in life occur, that it's so obvious that those moments were precious. More than precious, they were utterly perfect in their happiness and joy. Glorious. Never to be had again, unless by those same kids who are now having kids of their own to make their own glorious and perfect holiday celebrations with... But not for me, because the best of times in my whole life were when my children were young.

Boisterous best describes my kids. Happy. Laughter was as common as breathing. Of course, there were some not-so-happy times, arguments and anger. But not at those holiday times. Not most of the time, truly. Unhappiness was not a regular commodity back then. 

So what makes change take place? What makes the difference that brings about the change? Is it just that time passes, children grow up, life goes ahead in it's predestined direction? The grief I used to feel just thinking about my children growing up and leaving me came to pass, just as I thought it would. And the weirdness, the change I somehow knew would come, did. Adjusting to the loss of their precious constant presence in my life was something that I simply could not do. I have moved past it, but the memories remain. Bittersweet is not quite right in defining the memories of those times. Mostly because at the time, there was NO bitterness, just sweetness. The only bitterness is in realizing that those times, now so long in the past, will never return for me, for the primary characters are now grown and have their own lives, their own futures to create memories in. One of my babies has her own baby. Others will follow. They will make the Christmas memories with their children soon, and I hope and pray that their memories will be as wonderful, bright and blessed, as glorious and perfect as my memories are.

If there is one thing I would like to say it is this: Enjoy your children and your lifetime in the moment that it is occurring. Never take it for granted. One day it will be over, gone, and living only in the hazy mists of the past, a glittering memory that will never be forgotten. 

Gardens...

Well, the garden is almost in. I've been working my butt off! A cousin's husband came and tilled the soil with his tractor, and then came back and did it again after big rains came... Then he and his wife (said cousin, Steph) came and planted the 'taters for me--a HUGE help--and now the rows are in, the tomatoes, peppers...which were little seedling plants...and I planted the corn and am about to set the pole beans. Must not forget, I planted 12 crookneck squash, and 21 zucchini. I also planted two huge mounds of cucumbers! I've planted flowers, loads of 'em if they come up, and... wow.

My marigolds and other annuals are all coming up. Teeny little green stuff is birthing out of the ground. Now you might say duh, that's what it's supposed to do, but it's still a miracle. A dry little seed turns into a flower that has babies, tons of little seeds to make more babies... so cool. And now that the tulips are done blooming, and the daffodils, here come the iris! They're lavender/purple with white tongues that have a thick yellow stripe on them. Just lovely. The stargazer lillies are about to bloom, the tigerlilies are getting all big and bushy, and all I really need to add are some roses (in honor of Grandma 'Ghee)... I planted this one bell pepper that has--get this--PURPLE peppers. Yes, friends and loved ones, purple bell peppers. How cool is that? I planted them in the front flower beds near the oregano, basil, dill and fennel. Also in that little garden is a bush of cherry tomatoes and three jalapeno plants. A regular salsa garden, plus!  And also, the onions and garlic! Sheesh, nearly forgot those, but only a few of them are going in THAT garden. The rest are going out in the BIG garden!!

Now I am tired. Just really, really tired. I still have to get the okra started (kinda late, but...?) and a few other late starters going very soon. I am grateful for the help of cousins to help so much (Steph, Kim, Donny, to name a few), because other than that, I'd be an awful lot on my own to plant this huge, 1/2 acre garden. I think there'll be enough in there to feed the whole stinkin' community of ours, but that's cool. I'm going to can tomatoes, beans and salsa... Going to freeze what I can, dry some herbs, make some Deep South Beef Soup (my very own recipe) to can, using (duh) Beef, okra, corn, onions, garlic, beans... And if those d**n turkeys even TOUCH my garden (wild, huge things), THEY will be the meat in the soup. Oh, or the DEER. Venison soup. Hmmmmm...it has definite possibilities, and I'm a darn good shot. LOL!

So, enough of the garden. I must get going. Gotta work if I wanna make some money... SIGH. Thought I HAD been working. Gardening's hot, hard, sweaty, stinky and dirty work! hehe

Love to all,

A.

I...AM...A...GRANDMA!!

Just a shortie... Evie and Seth had their little 6lb, 1oz wonder of a girl-child this morning at 10:26 a.m. Pacific time! Miss Elina Clarice Steiling... I'll put a photo on here to share, but for now, I am officially with a new title...Grandmomma Angela!

WOO HOO!!! :)

Hugs & love to all...

A.

Life...Struggles...Success...Utter Failure...and...Curiosity

I took a walk this morning, out to the garden. The sunlight was dappling the pavement of the driveway as it came through the newly birthed foliage on the oaks, dogwood, maple and hickory. The pine trees have been dropping copious amounts of pollen--yellow, thick and constant. I have an allergy to pine pollen that I've known about for years but this...wow. This is something else. However, as we had a huge super-cell storm come through yesterday, it would appear that the pollen is now history. 

It's strange the way life works. There is the life in the womb, the struggle to be born...the success of breathing for the first time...trying to learn to walk and failing, but having enough curiosity and need to keep trying. Is it any different as we go through life in other aspects? It seems that the old adage that "History Repeats Itself" is in fact a very accurate notion.

1. We go through life experiencing new and varied events. New "lives" so to speak, with each new event. An idea is conceived, and then life within that idea becomes an event.
2. The struggle for that idea to become more than mere thought, but turned into action...
3. The idea becoming reality, a living, breathing thing that turns our lives in another direction...
4. Trying and sometimes failing as we walk through our events that were once ideas...
5. The curiosity to keep working at it through the failure and the successes when they come (as they invariably do)...

The humor is noticing that each of these things, some big and some small, always seem to mimic ...life. Coming into this world.

I guess my thoughts are just on new life lately as I await word of my baby granddaughter's imminent arrival! Elina, hurry up! *smile* We cannot wait to see you and hear you...

I'm enjoying that dappled sunlight right now as I look out the window and see its shapes on the walkway outside the front window. The breeze is stirring the trees in their bright, new-green jackets, the flowers are waving hello as the soft wind tickles their sides. Vibrant purple irises, yellow and red and orange and peach and purpleish-black tulips are almost finished with their spring blooming. The white tulips are still blooming but who knows how much longer before they too are finished? The annuals are in the ground: marigolds, dahlia, brown-eyed susans, wildflower mixes...all of which will be a joy to behold and will bring happiness just to look at their smiling, colorful faces.

Life. It's blooming everywhere!