DEVELOPMENTS

Before I went out Coal Creek this afternoon (https://jeastofeden.blogspot.com/2020/05/if-that-is-key-component.html), I finished threading the hood drawstring through the last of the Baby Sweater Jackets I’ve been knitting up:

White jacket & jackets lineup. 6 MO (https://jeastofeden.blogspot.com/2020/04/pocketed-baby-sweater-jacket-pattern-6.html)

I had an enjoyable time for 4 hours; good friends are a treasure ;-)

When I got home, I received a text from Bob’s youngest sister showing how she has had the bird feeder Bob built for her (that is a duplicate of the 1^st one he made, for me) refurbished, and perching on a ringed pergola that she can plant a climbing rose at the base of …

Rosie’s refurbished bird feeder, that is now a sided bird house. This Cross Design is Bob’s own design.

Bob would be pleased, I’m sure :-D

Meanwhile birds were gathering and enjoying the bird feeder Bob built for me, hanging here, at the last house we will ever have shared together – 2 things that are tangible and visual reflections of the life I shared with Bob a lifetime ago.

Bob liked watching the birds at the feeder; so do I:

Lesser Goldfinch

Turtledove

I always like seeing turtledoves. My Bazaar Business Name & Logo for years was “2 Turtledoves”. Turtledoves represent enduring love and peace of the deepest kind. Seeing a turtledove reminds me of the blessings of Elohim, and my spirit is immediately soothed.

Seeing those weather stained things Bob lovingly built for me had me thinking of safe ways to clean them up that would not harm the birds that frequent them. As soon as the nesting season is over, I am going to clean the feeder and bird house – they need cleaning.

==Bleaching bird feeders: https://www.ecomall.com/greenshopping/birdfeeders3.htm

==Bleaching bird houses: https://www.thespruce.com/clean-bird-houses-the-right-way-386629

Tomorrow while I am in town, I am going to pick up some new pots and move these coleus’ and blooming geranium outside …

These are new plants gained in my new life - they have nothing to do with my life with Bob. It's a small step forward . I bought the coleus's last summer, and started the blooming geranium from slips snipped from mother plants.

IF - THAT is the KEY Component

Today, at noon, I was spending the day with friends; visiting and sharing precious time together … and enjoying Supper together later on.

It was a time of refreshing, away from phone calls and media sources that spew fear and incite violence.

While President Trump and other politicians … as well as the general public keep saying we, as a Nation, are dealing with “an invisible enemy”, I don’t think that is accurate. Yes, we are dealing with an enemy – but it is not invisible, nor unknown. And we know it is seeking to destroy us, because its tool has said so.

                                                 

obama is an angry black homosexual racist, who praised islam and denounced Christianity his entire tyrannical 8 year political coup; obama is the feather in the demoncrats’ hats (they refer to him as their messiah) – and like king Sennacherib of ancient days, he has a glib tongue with which he cajoles the weak-minded and rebellious hearted: including undiscerning career {pastors} who do not know Elohim, but are worldly minded – being people pleasers rather than God-pleasers.

Covid-19 is still present. And, at my age, I am still considered ‘at risk’ But, death does not frighten me; and I am more concerned at the present about the fear this virus has caused to seep into minds, lives, businesses, politics, and churches (that should know better!). It concerns me that the demoncrat party is hourly provoking weak minded people to incite violence – and the face of the tool being manipulated by the enemy continues to flap his bitterly hateful yap; and refuses to understand he is NO LONGER prez: his OPINIONS concerning the current President is opinionated political wrangling of the most shameful sort – his opinions are whipping his minions into a violent frenzy that is doing more damage to this Nation than covid-19 ever could.

Over the past few days, I have seen a replay of the 1991 rodney king fiasco, where demoncrats then whipped the masses into a hateful frenzy that resulted in days of violent rioting/looting/murdering of people who were not black: it was the worst civil disturbance seen in the USA in the 20^th Century. Then, as now, the police did not respond quickly or with discernment – they hid themselves from the destruction happening in their neighborhood, and in their State … recently, President Trump has denounced the police of Minneapolis, that literally RAN from the violence instead of countering it and stopping the 6 days of violent rioting/looting/murder in the streets.

And police wonder why they “get no respect” – cowards are never respected.

What is happening today is not peaceful protests – it is bloody, destructive carnage. It is cowardly racial hatred fueled by politics. Incited by a man who STILL will not let go of his political coup. Applauded by his minions in the demoncrat party that have said they intend to “bring America to its knees”. They FAILED in attempt after attempt to bring this President, and this Nation, down to their level of insanity: they are hopelessly lost in an insane grip of hatred and are using race to fan the flames of their destructive bent.

And I feel sad and have pity for those in my immediate family who actually support this insanity; too stupefied by the rampant hate that they cannot understand that they are championing their own demise – if this Nation goes under, and succumbs to barak hussain obama’s {vision} for America continually foisted on US by a total RACIST and ANTI-American obamanite Congress, they – like those who bought the nazi lies of {protection} will find themselves in the SAME PRISIONS they think to avoid. Mad and rabid dogs eventually turn on each other; and tear each other apart.

I’ve had enough.

I’ve seen too much of this bitter and hateful insanity play out over the decades.

I’ve had an enjoyable 2 days of Shabbat Rest – where the world was shut out and the peace of Elohei was welcomed into my home and my life. I am extending that time of ‘island rest’ through the remainder of this day … and I’m thinking I may go MIA for a bit.

I can’t afford to get caught in the enemy’s snare. I am taking time to pray for myself, for America, for my family, and for all those who have swallowed the demoncrat lies and “know not what they do”.

Time is wrapping up – for me personally, and for the world in general: I need to make sure my heart is right and that I am ready to meet Yeshua when the time comes. I can't be sidelined by the chaos continually whipped up by racists bent on destruction. I don't want to find myself benched in the end game.

It is possible to have peace in the midst of the storm – I have experienced that peace several times in my lifetime when I keep my eyes on Yeshua and my mind on Elohei.

Even though I don’t know where this new path in my life will take me, I am not afraid of the unknown destination … or the continual chaotic frenzies. Elohei has led me through the scariest days of my life over the past 534 days (covid-19 hysterias & murderous rioting is nothing compared to what I have recently endured); and my amazing friends provided things I needed along my journey to support me, and aide me in walking forward with confidence.

My life with Bob’s love in it, opened many exciting doors for 44 years of my 63 years. And my ‘in the moment’ life, now – honoring my husband while restructuring a new life – will open many, many more doors: 1 for each new day I am granted as I walk this Earth solo lobo.

I don’t make time for nonsense.

                               

IF ... THAT is the KEY component to what ails America and Americans. It needs to start with The Church.

IT’S THE LITTLE THINGS

It's the little things that trip us up.

Not everyday ... but some days.

Last year it was finding a lone package of Beef flavored Ramen Noodles that tripped me up. I was 6 months into widowhood, and memories were prodding raw emotions.

This year, it’s the sunburn on my nape, and across the top of my back.

When we were dating … and later, newly married, it was summertime, and Bob was outdoors a lot. He loved to water ski; and play rounds of golf after work – both activities done shirtless: he was beautifully tanned.

That beautiful chestnut tan …

Chestnut brown - by Summer's end, Bob's skin was this dark.

I would ‘tan’ too – but next to Bob’s darkly tanned skin, mine looked almost albino in contrast.

… came at the cost of being beautifully burned. Of course, I didn’t go on these forays with Bob, shirtless, but I did dress as skimpily as legally possible. And neither of us worried about skin cancer. It’s ironic that the one thing we should have worried about, and that doctors and scientists keep harping at us about (skin cancer) left him alone … and an insidious illness, neither one of us knew anything about – or saw coming down the pike, claimed him. I don’t worry about skin cancer for myself now: my philosophy is ‘what will be, will be. You can’t cheat appointed death.’

That said, I’ll get back to the sunburns: Bob’s, the summer of 1974; and mine this summer of 2020. My sunburn today itches like crazy as the skin heals itself; and the skin hurts to touch, so I try not to touch it too much. Bob’s sunburn in 1974 would tear, and I would peel it, so it didn’t look so scruffy. He’d lie across the bed, and I’d straddle his backside and peel the peeling skin off in one large section across his shoulders and down his back to his waist. Then I’d smear his back with cooling Noxema cream. He hated the smell of that stuff, but it soothed.

Bob had a beautiful body. And he had beautiful skin on that beautiful body.

I loved feasting my eyes on his beautifully tanned body.

When I close my eyes, and let my thoughts go back in time … I can clearly see myself standing on the dock at the River Rat tavern, watching him that summer of 1974 – in those short white cutoffs, water skiing the Columbia River behind his cousin’s jet boat with the hot sunshine making the water sparkle and his wet skin gleam while he did those triple ski jumps.

A golden god-like figure of a man.

My man.

And now, as then, I get a lump in my throat – though for entirely different reasons. Now, because Bob is no longer here with me. Then, because he was beauty in action.

I don’t need to be sunburnt to recall that river skiing vision.

But, inadvertently touching my tender sunburnt skin tonight did bring Bob and his sunburn occurrences to mind.

I'm further along in my solo lobo journey, and my emotions aren't so raw anymore.

And for a few minutes while those visions of days long past flitted past my mind's eye, I wished that I had the power to zap us both back to those hot summer days of 1974 when love was blooming and life was easy.

It’s the little things …

BOB'S FIRST LOVE

Bob - 1967. Cathlamet, WA.

This 1968 Camero was Bob's 1st love. He bought it with his own money ... money earned the hard way doing summer jobs and working in the woods with his Dad's log trucking business.

I only saw it once - but I recognized it immediately because Bob talked nonstop about it. He loved it.

It was teal colored and a hot rod ... he outran cops and was untouchable; he wasn't doing anything illegal, just having fun with the local cops. And they were pissed because they could not catch him even though they all KNEW it was him dusting them. He also used his hot rod as a time car for stock car racers at the Tacoma Speedway - racers with a big race coming up would call him to come run his car against theirs because they knew his car was unbeatable and if they could beat his time, they would win the race.

Bob told me, when we bought the Horizon 2½ years ago (shown here), that it was the same color as his Camero was.

His Camero was pretty much all I heard about for the first 3 years of our relationship/marriage.

I listened; you all know how it is with your 1st love. LOL

So anyway, we & Doug (yes, my old boyfriend) were out one afternoon hitting the bars, playing pool and being young when in one bar on Commerce - the one where Country Folks Deli was for 2 decades until they recently moved - the past and the present collided. Before it was a Deli, it was a relic of a bar: nice, but old-timey with a huge woodtop-bar counter that covered one entire wall and boot scraper rail underneath the bar top. A looooong mirror covered the wall behind the bar. It reminded me of an old-time cowboy bar, which it probably was. I needed some fresh air, so I stepped outside to clear my head and have a cigarette. I looked up and saw this guy dinking under the hood of a car that seemed very familiar to me.

Though I had never SEEN Bob's car because he had sold it during his first marriage when Alex came along and money was tight ... I KNEW THIS WAS HIS CAR because he had talked about it so much in glowing detail that I knew that I KNEW this was "THE car". Every instinct lead me forward and I asked the guy what was wrong with the car. He told me, and I got excited for Bob, and said, "I think this is my husband's car - I'll go get him and he can tell you exactly what is wrong and how to fix it."

I went back into the bar and said to Bob, "Babe, there is a guy outside working under the hood of your Camero: why don't you go see if you can help him out a bit."

Bob looked at me quizzically and I explained what I saw and told him again to "Go! Go see your girl one more time." The gleam in Bob's eyes would have made me jealous if I was not secure in his love for me; hahaha

He practically ran out the door. I followed and watched from the sidelines as Bob stuck his head under the hood of his Camero and explained to the guy what needed to be done. Then the guy shook Bob's hand, hopped into Bob's baby, and sped off.

I finally got to see Bob's first love.

We have had several cars, trucks, min-vans, and off-road vehicles in our 44 years together, but that Camero was always top dog ;-)

Bob was 17 years old in this picture and batching it in the house he, his dad, and his brother built on the upper end of the family property in Cathlamet, so he could finish out his last 2 years of High School with his friends and football team when the rest of the family moved to Toutle.

I had not yet moved to Cathlamet; we still lived in Skamokawa. 7 years later Bob and I married and lived in the big house he lived his youth in on the backside of the family property; and 3 years later, I finally met the love of his life (besides me, of course, who topped the top dog ;-)).

BEAUTY ALL DAY LONG

This morning I woke up thinking I needed to get the rest of whatever I plan to plant this season, into my garden boxes and various container pots. While I was enjoying my morning coffee, and slowly waking up in my cool air-conditioned castle; I noticed a flash of bright color fly past the LV windowpanes and perch in my garden area …

Sunny colored Evening Grosbeak bird – it had a pistachio green tinted beak: colorful all over!

Seeing the colorful visitor made me think of the hummingbird feeders I needed to replace: the past few days I’ve noticed that the large hummingbird feeders, Bob & I had bought and hung together, had seemed to have sprung leaks – I was washing the white railing and porch down every day so the red tinted sugar water didn’t stain the porch railing; they needed replacing.

One more thing from my life with Bob that I am forced to let go of.

If Bob were here, replacing the feeders would not affect me at all. But, Bob is not here, and I feel gut-kicked every time I have to replaced something we did together. Little by little, Bob’s presence in/around this house is disappearing. I don’t like it.

Yesterday, while in town, I swallowed hard, and bought 2 smaller feeders; this morning, I hung them. I am capable of hanging them, but ((((MAN!)))) I sure missed the shadow of Bob’s height and watching his long arms reach up to place them in position. Being the shortie I am, and being a solo lobo now, there will be no more sheltering shadow; no more long arms to ease tasks.

No more gentle giant to hug and kiss.

There is just me.

And I don’t like it.

So, I focus on the beauty that surrounds me in every minute of my new life days. I like watching hummingbirds. I hung the new feeders without trauma drama:

No leaks – no stains ;-)

As soon as I had hung the feeders and came into the house, a hummer was at the feeder :-D

I didn’t see any cracks in the feeder bases, but they sure leaked like a sieve … so into the trash they went this morning: I saved the feeder tubes to store the sugarwater-nectar in; in the ‘fridge.

That task done – and accomplished without tears – I gathered what I would need to finish planting the garden area; and got busy.

I had to pump the wheel barrow wheel again: I really need to break down and get a new tire pump; this one ... bought with Bob, is toast.

1 more thing to be trashed & replaced.

These {replacements} are happening to quickly.

To often.

Do I have to lose everything all at once????

Focus on the beauty, Val; not the loss ...

It was a hot 84-degree-day.

I was HOURS in the sun getting the garden planted & watered.

I am burned: my face, my nape, my arms, my legs, my feet.

My body felt the heat.

It was a beautiful blue-sky day full of promise – and surprises …

While I was filling my watering can, I happened to look up at the sky, and smiled …

My day was filled with beauty from start to finish.

My garden is totally IN; now.

It was a good day :-D

Now, after I post this post, I’m going to take a load off my feet and relax by finishing up the last of the Baby Sweater Jackets I’ve been working on:

I want to finish up the last of the Baby Sweater Jackets I’ve been knitting … and I ran out of yarn. Now what? I didn’t know if I had any more …

I did! I looked in every possible place there might be a small bit of left-over yarn ends. There isn’t a lot, but there’s enough to finish up :-D THANK YOU, YESHUA!

A FOOTLOOSE LIFE

When I met Bob, I was a footloose person; plans were not set in stone … I was reluctant to let moss grow under my feet. I was raised bohemian style, and I liked being a free spirit.

Bob’s fist wife, Gloria, played at being a hippie. She played at being a bad ass. Sleeping with everything that moves and doing drugs doesn’t make one a hippie – or a badass; it just makes them a stupid ass.

Bob was used to a watered-down-twisted-citified version of Gloria’s hippiehood.

He was unprepared for me. I was the real deal.

I was 17 – but I had already been baptized by the fire of chaos: I didn’t like chaos.

Game playing wasn’t in my nature: citified, or otherwise.

I was used to movement. Being rooted in one place made my feet itchy, and my whole body nervous to be on the move.

I could turn into a Tasmanian Devil if I felt cornered and hemmed in.

He had a tiger by the tail ;-)

I was raised a hippie by a beatnik mother. I grew up fast – I was a smart-ass/bad ass; I am still, at 63, a smart-ass/bad ass.

Bob was a peacenik with a patient nature and a soft touch; and he won me over with his love.

For Bob, I settled down to domesticity, and let moss grow under my feet for 44 years: I loved him. The accumulated moss was worth it :-D

But Bob didn’t chain me to domesticity. We got out of the house, and out of town to kick the moss off my feet now and then with mini vacas … more so when he retired 8 years ago. We didn’t live large, but we did enjoy monthly daytrips while our children were growing up; and annual yearly get-away’s after the kids left home and the budget curve flattened out more stably (camping with the grandkids & glamping when it was just the 2 of us); and many, many daytrips throughout the year. Every year. Bob was a good man. We even, one year, drove cross America: a dream trip I’d talked about nonstop for 44 years.

Now, there is no husband.

No more shared adventures.

No more patient taming …

I’m a reluctant free agent – I did not choose to be cut loose from my husband; but I am slowly getting used to being a solo lobo again, answering to no one but Elohim and myself. Free to do whatever I choose to do, whenever I choose to do it; to shake the moss off: and whatever finances will allow.

I have time now to be footloose.

But everything I do is bittersweet because Bob is not here to share it with me.

I’d rather be enjoying life with Bob, and have the moss under my feet …

Strangely, even though marriage clipped my wings in many ways, with Bob I did not feel tethered. Perhaps because he never really restrained me – he allowed me to be me. He knew I had a gypsy bone, and he allowed me a lot of freedoms and wiggle room: he never hemmed me in with ham-stringing restraints. He knew I have common sense and a strong sense of loyalty; he trusted me and he gave me good reason … and went out of his way every day/every night … to be satisfied with the green grass on our side of the marital fence.

Bob was a good man.

Bob was a loving man.

He was the best husband for me.

Me telling Bob this was his last chance to escape … he told me he would stick always and I’d never regret being tied to him. August 27th, 1974. 9 p.m. at Judge Tom Hall's in Skamokawa.

I didn’t tether Bob, either – I didn’t hold him with marriage. We were married, for sure, but … I told him before we signed on the dotted line that if he ever wanted to be a free agent, all he had to do was give me the word – and I’d cut him loose. Bob also knew I wouldn’t tolerate fooling around; the first sniff of foolery and I’d be gone so fast his head would spin. I didn’t want a man who didn’t want me. Bob never wanted to be a free agent. Bob said he’d learned with Gloria that fooling around wasn’t worth it (they both cheated on each other, Gloria being the main culprit in that marriage): he never gave me ‘the word’. He never envied the neighbors’ green grass, the other side of the marital fence. He always told everyone … even on his death bed … that he hit the jackpot when he met me, and he hoped I knew how much he loved me: I did. Bob gave me many things in the 44 years we lived with/loved each other; but in all the worldly comforts my husband gave me, Bob made my life truly rich in the only way that mattered to me – he loved me. Unconditionally and wholeheartedly: it was mutual.

(https://jeastofeden.blogspot.com/2019/12/i-love-you-just-way-you-are.html)

Elohim did good when he put us together.

I lived a good life with a wonderful man.

A baby dragonfly showed up on the front porch and flew all around the exterior of the house to show itself on the window screens. All day long. Bob and I always saw dragonflies in pairs … now I see only 1; ever since Bob’s graduation. I’ve always liked seeing/watching dragonflies :-D

(https://blog.prepscholar.com/dragonfly-meaning-symbolism)

I jazzed this solar lamp up all day Sunday, to make sure it would shine through the night Memorial Day – when I switched out the old one on our plot.

It was raining while I was on the road to Eden Valley and Pam called to tell me that if it was still raining by 3 PM, the BBQ would be scheduled for another day; I said I was okay with that. And I am – it’s the gathering that matters, not a cast-in-stone date on a calendar.

Recalling the naming of our daughter ...

As I spent time in Eden Valley Cemetery placing flowers (silk because they will hold up longer) at various family plots, and spending reflective moments at our personal plot thinking of the millions of happy memories of US that have been etched in my brain, I am thankful and so grateful that I was given the blessed opportunity to share Bob’s life with him while he walked this Earth. What a gift he was to me! I told him that every morning and every night for 44 years – and he told me the same. He told everyone within hearing distance, that he had a good wife and he loved me – and he said it while flashing that sexy smile in my direction and holding my hand. I will always cherish that love. It was a good love: it was a true love.

 

Bouquet I made for Bob's placement.

Bouquet I made for Bob's Dad.

Bouquet I made for Bob’s Grandparent’s.

Grandpa & Grandma’s bouquet placed in the center of their plot between their headstones.

Familial Plots Triangle.

Smalley section of Eden Valley Cemetery: Dates following the Civil War, when the Smalley’s settled in Eden Valley; to most recent with my Bob.

Smalley Family History Marker

‘Til death do us part’.

My heart is still struggling …

My mind knows death severed that tie … my heart is not ready to go there yet.

I still love Bob today as much as I did the day I saw him in 1967:

Bob’s Senior Yearbook Picture. 1967

As much as I did the day we met face-to-face in 1974 and started dating…

April 19th, 1974: our first date 46 years ago ...

As much as the night we got married:

Wedding day -August 27h, 1974

Bob had to work the next day. Bob planned and gave me a belated week-long Honeymoon Trip to Mount Baker and back home again through Leavenworth, in 2014. He wouldn’t even let me spot-drive him. When I asked, he would say, “Just sit back and enjoy the ride, Honey – this trip is the Honeymoon you never got when we married. I love you.”

(https://jeastofeden.blogspot.com/2019/09/bob-was-romantic-fella.html)

As much as when he gave me a gift I didn’t know I wanted – or needed; he gave me a baby.

September 1975. Bob gave me a family of my own, an extension of his love; and for a while, it was good - we had it all.

I will love him until my time on Earth ends (https://jeastofeden.blogspot.com/2019/12/permanently-in-loveforever.html).

I know Bob loved me – and was still loving me – until his spirit stepped out of his body: he told me so; before Comfort Care, care, silenced his voice.

I’m glad Bob got to see my hair start showing gray – he waited a long time for my gray to catch up with his gray. It’s a lot grayer now, but I’m thankful he got to see it coming in … in the Summer of 2018 before he checked outta here in the Winter of 2018; with his sparse hair as white as his Dad’s was 😉

And I know that for all intents and purposes, that type of loving between us stopped when his heart did. But my heart is still struggling – it has not yet caught up with my mind. I know the man I knew and loved is no more: he’s gone. My trips to Eden Valley Cemetery reinforce the fact that he’s gone. But my heart does not want to let go; it has not yet caught up with my mind. I know I need to find a balance; but my heart – and covid-19 restrictions are tripping me up, and seriously hampering my forward momentum.

Watching someone’s body shut down and die is hard ...

(https://jeastofeden.blogspot.com/2019/12/comfort-care-decision-when-im-gone.html).

Surviving that loss is harder. Much harder.

People have asked me if less trips to Eden Valley would perhaps be prudent and helpful in my healing process. I don’t believe so … no. I don’t cry that often, and I’m not depressed after visits. I was married to Bob for 44 years: it’s gonna take at least half that long (so noteworthy traumatic experiences ‘professionals’ say) to start seeing light at the end of the grieving tunnel: I figure by the time I’m 84 years of age, my emotions should be on steady ground and my heart may be at peace with its amputation despite Grief hanging around -
(https://jeastofeden.blogspot.com/2019/11/justin-hayward-forever-autumn-1978-with.html).

Visiting Eden Valley, is right now – at this point of time in my life – the only thing that’s really keeping me grounded; aside from Elohei’s provisions, Elohim’s faithfulness, and Yeshua’s steady love. If I couldn’t get to Eden Valley on a regular basis during this time of healing and renewal, I think I really would crumble.

As I left Eden Valley, headed for home, I also reflected on the concept of plans and the part plans play in our lives. I can’t speak for Bob, because I don’t know if he had any actual plans in place for the rest of his retirement years – we didn’t spend a whole lot of time looking into the future; we lived every day as it came, as if it may be our last day: for him, his last days arrived on his birthday in August of 2018 and wrapped on December 14^th, 2018 in another hospital, in another state. I’ve never really been a planner type of person … I was for a while when the kids were growing up because there were kid-things that required a bit of planning, but I never was a planner for long term planning. I never got into the 5/10/20/30-year planning cycle like everyone else was caught up in doing. For me, life is just too short to get stuck on a hamster wheel.

I suppose my current situation of no husband-no long term plans is why I’m not stressed out about where covid-19 has taken things economically. I read on my phone newsfeed last week that the government is assuming social security benefits will be bankrupt for everyone by 2030 due to the unemployment forced on American citizens due to covid-19 hysteria and political game playing by the demoncrat House politicians, demoncrat governors, demoncrat mayors, and demoncrat 2020 Electoral candidates – and their toadies:

(https://www.politico.com/news/2020/05/17/coronavirus-social-security-2030-261207)

When I got back home, the rain had stopped and I figured the BBQ plans were back on; so, I drove on into town to Fred Meyers, to grab a desert to take out to Pam’s. As I was checking out, my cell rang and it was the kids saying they were on the road, headed to Eden Valley Cemetery and would I like to join them … of course! Stacey had never been to our plot (she skipped the Celebration of Life, 9 months ago) – in fact, she’d never, ever, been to Eden Valley Cemetery: and I didn’t mind making a second trip. As soon as I ended the convo with the kids, I received a call from Pam saying the BBQ was indeed, “back on”. But, I begged off, saying the kids were on their way, and I need to spend time with them – no matter how the day went (it can go south in a heartbeat). Pam agreed – we can always get together for Supper, but time spent with my kids isn’t that frequent; or that easy.

I was excited.

And nervous.

I barely had time to get home and park my car in the carport before the kid’s pulled in … and we were off.

Life is unpredictable.

But unpredictability is where real life happens.

You meet someone and before you know it, you are unpredictably in love. In short order you find yourself unpredictably married: and soon, a baby on the hip. Twenty unpredictable years later, you are cooing over a grandbaby doctors said was a predictable negative. Eighteen years after the first unpredictable miracle, you are driving across 3 States lines to coo and cuddle another unpredictable miracle; two other doctors’ predicted would be another predictable negative, following a surgery that guaranteed infertility. Doctors were predictably wrong – and Elohim granted Bob life long enough to enjoy his grandchildren, which included a toddler grandson after a 40-year run of all girls. Bob loved his girls, but it was nice of Elohim to replenish the gene pool with another shot of testosterone after such a male drought ;-) Of course, Azariah will not carry the Hargand Name forward … but Bob’s DNA will go forward; and that is more important than a surname.

All of our life together, we lived in the moment; going with the flow.

And now, the kids were here.

Unexpected until a few minutes ago.

Unpredictable life was happening in the moment.

I don’t know what the future holds in regards to my heart healing, and the rebuilding of my new life.

I don’t know what the future holds in regard to the piddly amount I am receiving in Widow’s Benefits – while the demoncrats play political crap games with our monies – rightfully ours, and NOT theirs to play with in attempting to further their chancy socialist agendas.

I didn’t know what the remainder of Memorial Day would look like … by the time the day wrapped up. After visiting the family plot, we were off to Longbeach – the beach was open to walk on; but stores, restaurants, ect., was closed: there was no driving on the beach – only walking. It was windy. It was cold. It was wet with ocean mist rolling in on the waves.

Our grandchildren visiting our family plot: it went well.

Missing Poppa and asking, “When did he get sick?” They never got to see each other again, after Bob went into the local hospital on his birthday, August 30th, 2018.

The kid’s showed up in a new car! Very nice :-D And I am glad to see things are working out so well for them.

I’m not a water lover ... but everyone - including our kids - love it & hate the mountains (can these kids really be mine?) The ocean actually freaks me out; but I wanted to spend time with the kids.

Interesting wind break picnic area, with a BBQ pit near one corner.

Watching the waves and looking for shells.

I was going with the flow; and not caring if I got caught in an emotional riptide later on. Elohim keeps putting us back together - there must be a grand purpose. I'm going with the flow, and staying footloose.

Victim of the pounding waves

I found 3 broken sand dollars inside a broken crab shell.

I found an interesting beach item: Gooseneck Barnacles – and they were still alive! Never heard of them before I did an internet search at home.

In some countries, people eat gooseneck barnacles –they are considered a 'delicacy'.

Sautéed Gooseneck Barnacles – eeew; they don’t look that appetizing to me!

A chunk of Bull Kelp: upper piece.

Bull kelp stem.

Seaweed clump.

Memorial Day ended up being a good and pleasant day.

We all stayed ‘in the moment’; and it was good.

Living in the moment, is really all any of us have – looking into the future and planning a life that has not even begun to formulate itself yet had never made sense to me: it’s a waste of time. It’s a wasteful exercise in misguided projections that steals the fruits of the present day. And, as all widows and widowers know – we have learned the hard way that even short-sighted plans do not turn out the way they were envisioned. Those who have lost spouses to covid-19 are learning that hard lesson too.

I can’t help it if that sounds heartless – reality, often is, heartless. To me, reality is a practical way of looking at life. I don’t know what is going to happen in the future – and I’m not going to spend time worrying and stressing about “what if’s”. I’m going to do what I have always done … my level best to truly enjoy the present. I’m going to apply the same {journeying experiences} to my every day living as I did when Bob and I struck out on daytrips and cross-country mini vaca’s. While we looked forward to reaching our destinations, it was always the scenic byplay that got my attention. It was the “in the moment” excitement of the journey itself, more than reaching the goal that fired my jets.

Yes, there was some planning in the process; but the plans were flexible as the journey got underway. And, I admit, planning to a degree was very important in getting me through that first year of widowhood – there were appointments for legal issues that couldn’t be missed or sidelined: that type of planning was crucial … but it was also in the moment plans (next hour or so, tomorrow, ect.), so those types of plans don’t qualify as the types of 5/10/20/30-year planning cycle everyone else was caught up in doing. In all honesty, my life really hasn’t been that derailed by personal grief, or by the global upset of covid-19. Other than Bob’s absence being permanent now, readjusting my financial sails, and riding out the kids’ temper tantrums when they flare up; nothing in my life has really changed: I was living in the moment then, I’m living in the moment now.

I’m going with the daily flow.

Plans change every hour, on the hour – gotta go with the flow and ride the waves if you don’t want to keel over.

I am aware that my already spartan life will be seriously derailed if my Social Security Benefits are tampered with by over-zealous politicians.

But I’m not going to worry or stress about tomorrow.

I may not even be on Earth anymore by the time 2030 rolls around …

I may be beyond the clouds with Bob, walking those celestial streets of gold with him & Yeshua; enjoying a truly footloose life full of unimaginable beauty, love, and peace ;-)

In the footloose present here and now, it would be foolhardy to allow 2021 & 2030 political biased predictions to dominate, hogtie, and steal the joy out of my life in 2020.