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I woke up this morning tired of the stress and worry. Living under a cloud is exhausting. Things have started looking up and I’m going to embrace that. I started with a colorful new header. Then I rinsed off a bowlful of glistening fat strawberries and took the boys out back to enjoy the day.
Later, we are going to the park with friends and I plan on smiling a minimum of 36 times. that you forget to breath. There’s been a lot going on behind the curtain of the Fidget family, blerg-y no fun stuff. Taking pictures is less stressful then talking so that’s what I’ve been doing. Saffi is busy growing. Funny how they do that.  The boys are making sure to keep me on my toes,  leaving little time to ruminate over these stressful doings. The girls are, mostly, trying to be helpful and loving.  And I’m busy holding my breath. There’s rumor that things might just be ok. (Don’t panic, it’s just work related for The Hubs. At first things looked positively awful- like living in a van down by the river awful, but better news is trickling out now) Also, you should go poke this. It makes me giggle On Sunday, we laid The Hubster’s Mema to rest. Her church referred to it as “moving day.” It was the first time we took the 4 older children to a funeral, though this was the second of Saffi’s short life. I’m not big on the idea of children at funerals- they can be rather scary. But, we figured with Mema being in her 90s, that this would probably be the most gentle introduction to an overall sad yet inescapable situation. The children behaved beautifully. Mira and Tessa walked up to her casket with their Daddy. We had prepared Mira as well as we could and once her curiosity to see Mema one last time was settled, that was it. Tessa on the other hand wanted to touch her (mostly, I think, because their cousin bragged about touching her when she was dead). The Hubster stooped down to her eye level and asked how she would feel if people started poking her when she was trying to rest with God. Tessa’s eyes grew round and she told him she wouldn’t like that one bit. The Hubster nodded in agreement and they wished Mema a safe trip to heaven. Tessa’s eyes couldn’t help but linger on the fork Mema was clutching, though. Tessa wanted that fork. The presence of the fork had the room mumbling in confusion. Mema had no real affinity for silverware, so why the fork? This passage in her remembrance card explained it all: When they bury me, I want my old Bible in one hand and a fork in the other.I have been thinking about all of the church dinners and banquets that I attended through the years, I couldn’t begin to count them all. But one thing sticks in my mind. At those really nice get-togethers, when the meal was almost finished, a server or maybe the hostess would come by to collect the dirty dishes. I can hear the words now. Sometimes, at the best ones, somebody would lean over my shoulder and whisper, `You can keep your fork.’ And do you know what that meant? Dessert was coming! “It didn’t mean a cup of Jell-O or pudding or even a dish of ice cream. You don’t need a fork for that. It meant the good stuff, like chocolate cake or cherry pie! When they told me I could keep my fork, I knew the best was yet to come! “That’s exactly what I want people to talk about at my funeral. Oh, they can talk about all the good times we had together. That would be nice. But when they walk by my casket and look at my pretty lavender dress, I want them to turn to one another and say, `Why the fork?’ This is what I want you to say. I want you to tell them that I kept my fork because the best is yet to come. Mema loved quite a few things on this earth, dessert and The Lord were two of em. 
I’m keeping my fork too
 If reading about S-E-X makes you uncomfortable just enjoy this lovely picture. Spring keeps sneaking in for a day here and there; this morning I took advantage of it. Continue reading Making Time for Love: Why it’s important and how |
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