On Being “Wonderfully Made”

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It seems now, that a new line of demarcation has been drawn in my life.  The new season is “since Daddy died”.  There are as many lines now in my life as there are on my weathered hands.  

I can not write falsehoods and so there have been many gloomy days.  How could it not be so?  I do try to carry on .  I have been cleaning up the footpath to the garden.  l have moved some wild daffodils and apple mint, but sometimes, I just leave the spade in the yard and walk away.  I thought to build a small fire, one day.  I had gathered a good many of the fallen branches and so I lit and re- lit  the collection til at last a cheerful flame blazed.  I do not know why I “tuned up” and cried as I watched it burn.  Since Daddy died, I do such things.

I write these things in the diary,  not because I want  sympathy, but because I want to record authentically, the many variables of the contents of a life.  There is no gain, for anyone, if I “keep this to myself”.  It would be quite unfair for anyone to think, that all of my life is spent growing flowers, doting on my grandchildren and communing with nature.  After all “being on easy street” is always temporary, though I love that street.  Oh, how much pleasure, it is for me to write about the beauty of an ordinary life.   . .but life is far from from ordinary, at times for all of us.  We all get wounded, at some point and I can  not deny that. Recovery, is one valuable skill  to have in this life.  It is one of the most valuable skills, really for I can say, with full confidence, you will need it, . . and more than once.

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April has been much cooler, these last few weeks.  The wind, at long last has subsided to lively breezes.  I have spent some of my time, on the “winter clean up”.  It takes a while and the only thing that I enjoy less is cleaning the oven.  It takes blood, sweat and tears to accomplish all there is to it.  If vines and thorns were money . .well the rabbitpatch would be worth a “kings’ ransom”.  Some times, I wonder, why I bought the place . . and some times I wonder, how I will ever leave it. I really think that I will always love this patch of the earth – and yet be thankful  to sell it.  I do know one thing, I am the  better for  having known the place, but living here takes a lot of gumption.

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Since Daddy died, I have been thinking and reflecting a lot.  Now, I am fully aware of the theory, that we tend to make the departed, in to heroes and saints,  when they die. I have done neither.  I have started writing “Daddys’ story in  the journal that I keep for everyone in the family, that has passed on.    Aunt Agnes has a chapter, as does Aunt Josie, Uncle Randy and my beloved grandmother.   I write simply, “what I remember”, which is the title, of the journal, also.

As I write, I see no value in creating frills and flash.  The truth is enough .  That is how I feel now, more than ever, in my own circumstances.  Getting older can be very liberating-and I weed out what doesn’t matter, as vigorously, as I do the weeds along the garden patch.  At last, I believe, “that I was wonderfully made.”  The desires of my youth, do not apply now.  Presentation meant so very much,in those days.  I chased after “fools’ gold” and collected fine clothes and even bought “spanking new” cars, really, for other folks to “take notice”.  Thankfully, that era did not take long, for what a waste of vitality!  Now, I look at the silver streaks in my hair, and the memories etched on my face, and do not draw back in horror.  I embrace my life, faults and all, more than ever before.

I do not blame myself, for mistakes made in youth, either.  I suspect, in fact, that the many encounters with “fools’ gold” only enhanced my ability to know and understand   the properties of the authentic,  precious and genuine thing.

Sometimes, I think “if Daddy died, than anybody can”!  Ought I not to live, knowing this is so?   It is amusing to think such a thought, and I did laugh about it, later, but just hours before Daddy passed, I could not imagine him actually dying.  Even now, I can not imagine, how to live without a “father”.   . . but every day, I do . . . and the oddest thing has happened.  Somehow, I feel as close to him as ever.  I have not “seen” him, nor heard his voice-not even dreamed of  him, but I feel him, deeply. . .as if even death does not fully separate us.  

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While, I  have been “up to my ears” in the work of maintaining the territory and sorting out all sorts of notions,  the grandchildren keep growing up.  Little Ryan has two teeth and is crawling-and pulls up on whatever is in reach.  Lyla plays with her doll house/hotel, for hours now. at a time.  She recently hosted a birthday party for one of her dolls-complete with decorations and cake.  The darling Brynn, is babbling and climbing on everything-no matter the steadfastness of it.  

I know one more thing too . . .being a “long distance “Honeybee” . . .does not suit me!

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37 thoughts on “On Being “Wonderfully Made”

  1. If ever there has been a truth it is that being a long distance honey bee ( bebe for me ) just doesn’t cut it. We plan to break confinement this coming weekend for a 4 year old birthday. Lord Jesus please protect those of us there. We have been given a free ticket to get out of jail from our gov. as long as we are careful but there are still so many questions that no one seem to be able to answer. Like..Is this real or have we all been scammed big time. I’m afraid it is a little of both and a lot of one .
    Any way..son #3 is home after being gone 9 weeks and you know his little ones don’t want him out of their sight for long. I did get a hug from him yesterday. Yes grown up boys still hug their Mom and she needed it .
    You keep on keeping on with your feelings about your dad. that is what makes you …you.

    Liked by 2 people

    1. I have been “in quarantine AGAIN for almost 2 weeks=planning on visiting my darlings soon. I do not know what to say about the current ways- I know someone with the virus now- The deaths are not a scam-we know that. Well, I do not know much but I am being as careful as I can. I will pray for you-and all of your loved ones=love love Michele

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  2. Although she is not here in person to witness it, nor for me to speak to eye-to-eye, my relationship with my sainted mother has not faded with time. In point of fact, I continue to come to understand more of my mother and her gifts to me as time wears on. Like a cherished heirloom, it brightens my life. I was always aware, when she was alive, that she did not claim to “be a saint’. It has been the years since her parting, and the many recollections of my life with her that bring me to the conclusion that she was perhaps mistaken.
    You don’t need to be perfect to be a saint.

    “To the people who love you, you are already beautiful. This is not because they are blind to your shortcomings, but because they so clearly see your soul. Your shortcomings then dim by comparison. The people who care about you are willing to let you be imperfect and beautiful, too.”

    – Victoria Moran

    All my best,

    Scott

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  3. So “wonderfully written”….I can’t imagine the time “since Daddy died “ myself~yet, through your words and pure heartfelt truth, I feel it with you. Your family reminds me of mine. Like you, each Aunt and Uncle have chapters in my journal. Our loved ones are the essence of our woven words through our stories of life and faith. And yours is so beautiful. And Honeybee, your grands are simply GRAND! They will one day be reading your precious memories~what a legacy. 💚🙏🏻🤗 ~continued prayers on this new stage in life.

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    1. What precious grace you lend me-thank you for your heart felt words=they make a sweet difference to me. I am glad you keep journals too, for your family members. Somehow, it says they mattered and this is where I came from. thank you again, love Michele

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  4. I am eagerly sharing in memories of your dad. I lived 1,200 miles away from my parents and saw them only once or twice a year. Both of them died quickly, without a lingering illness. Although we talked on the phone frequently, it wasn’t the same as living within driving distance. Just as their lives did not impact me on a daily basis, neither did their deaths. You are missing your dad because you were close. That is precious. That is to be remembered and savored. Thank you for sharing it with me through your posts.

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    1. My friend-I had not though about that. You learned how to be truly independent- I do not think I ever did. No wonder I feel like a scared child-and at 61 years old! I am going to think about that. I may not be as crazy as I first thought. love Michele

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      1. You seem truly independent to me, Michele. You have supported yourself, bought a house by yourself, keep the rabbit patch in good repair, spent quality time with your relatives, and you rely on the Lord. Perhaps you meant emotional independence. I’ll have to think about that. I’m not sure that is to be desired. In a family, we’re all a part of each other. You’ve lost a big part of your emotional foundation, and you are feeling it.

        You are not crazy! To me you are amazingly grounded in love for God and love for others. That’s how we are all supposed to live.

        Liked by 2 people

  5. Beautifully and poignantly written! When we grieve over a death, it is because we have loved that person. Or dog. Or cat. Or any other creature we have taken into our hearts. As the wonderful poet David Whyte has said, to live is to have your heart broken. And, as you noted in your piece, it will happen more than once.

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  6. These are indeed trying times… and to also be dealing with the death of your father causes an added realm. Reflection of him is comforting and yet difficult at the same time. I remember when my mother died feeling so many emotions.
    And yes we have to be ‘real’ as we write our journal of life.

    Anyway, take care Michele. My thoughts are with you .. Diane xx

    Liked by 1 person

  7. Grief can be so hard, even when the world hasn’t been turned upside down by our fear of a new virus. So I’m glad you’re being gentle with yourself and being realistic about how you are moving forward. I’m love that you are writing down your memories of your dad, and not leaving out the bits that make him seem less like a “saint.” We all have our flaws, but we are worthy people nonetheless, with much to offer. Being truthful about your dad will actually be a gift for future generations, because they will see that he was loved and treasured for exactly who he was! You’re be staying in my prayers, Michele!

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  8. I am a long-distance Honey-Bee too. It’s hard not seeing the grands. I can only imagine how the loss of your father has made this season even more difficult. My dad is 80 and he and Mom are hanging in there but they’re scared. I try and talk with them several times a week, and my sisters check in with them too. I hope we can all move into the next season, a warm summer season without this virus following us. Stay safe, dear friend. ♥

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Thank you dear Sue. I wonder how I will ever just waltz in a store again. I have loved being home, for the farm needed love-and a lot of it. We are all healing, but I will miss Daddy always. This is new territory for me-though I am 61 years old! I am staying busy, thank you for your encouragement. May God bless you and your loved ones. love Michele

      Liked by 1 person

  9. Sending love, these are tough times. Dealing with the loss of a loved one and trying to process the current world situation is a lot for one person’s brain to cope with. I’ll pray for you x

    Liked by 1 person

  10. Oh Michele….I love the idea of your “What I Remember” journal. What a gift to pass on to your family. I may have to give that a try myself while the memories are still there of my grandparents, great-grandparents, parents and a multitude of uncles and aunts and greats. Thank you so much for the idea and my prayers are with you during this time.

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  11. I am sending you hugs and love as you work through your grief, Michele, over the loss of your Dad. Time. That is what it takes. And you are also in the best possible place …. outside in your gardens. What a gift our journal will be to the younger generations. Bless you for writing down your truth. xo

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  12. I was 38 when I lost my father, and I felt exactly the same, like my childhood had ended even though I was certainly no child. I think women have different relationships with our Dads. If they are good Dad’s, we are always their little girls until the day they die, and then we are no one’s little girl anymore. My relationship with my Mom was more like a friendship as I got older, but Daddy was always Daddy.

    Sometimes a lot of alone time is a gift when we are dealing with that loss. It was for me.

    I know you will be exceedingly joyful when you can surround yourself with your family and hold those babies again. Hoping it isn’t too much longer for you. xxoo

    Liked by 1 person

    1. you nailed it!! A friend of mine, after losing her last parent, said she felt like an orphan! Though she was my age. I get it! Some one who loves you best, faults and all-and KNOWS you thoroughly, will always be missed. Thank you-love Michele

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  13. It’s so good to your posts every time I log in to my account. It has probably been over a year since I last logged in, but every single time I come back, I look for your account. Your posts are so comforting. So much has changed in my life since I lost my father towards the end of last year. I guess I’ll stay a little bit longer this time to seek comfort in the simple, yet beautiful stories about your family and everyday life. ❤️

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  14. Michele, my heart is with you! Even though it’s been 5 years, I miss my papa (& mama) every day. But, like you, I feel their presence in my heart. Sometimes a memory or phrase will pop into my head out of the blue & it’s like a message from them in the here and now.. Much, much love as you navigate life without the physical presence of your father. 💕🙏💕

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