My life has changed so much since December 2018. I remarried January 7th, 2023 ... we sold the house, sold our vehicles - and bought a new 4x, a puppy, & a 5th Wheel to travel the mainland States and experience life in the slow lane. As always I record e.v.e.r.y.t.h.i.n.g. happening in my life: I will share lots of pics & vids of our USA travels: I hope you enjoy our Blog.
Governor Jay Inslee says
unvaccinated Washingtonians are domestic terrorists. It’s a ridiculous insult
that shows just how simple-minded our governor is when facing anyone who
doesn’t bend to his will.
It’s the latest divisive comment
from the power-hungry governor who hates being disobeyed.
Original Post: https://jeastofeden.blogspot.com/2018_12_15_archive.html
Bob has been residing at his new address for past 3 years.
I don’t begrudge him that … and I’d be there with him, if it was my time: I’m ready, with ticket in hand, and as soon as Yeshua gives the Call – I’m outta here.
In the meantime, I wait.
A lot has happened in that span of time.
I’ve learned that it is possible to survive heartbreak.
It is possible to live with the constant burn of heartache.
It is possible to feel acute loss, grief, joy, and happiness … all at the same time. I no longer feel like a weirdo when all those emotions play with my emotions – I don’t care if people “don’t get it”: I get it. And that’s all that matters to me anymore. I don’t try to explain myself. I don’t apologize. I don’t go the extra mile to make other people feel comfortable. I have a right to feel – and to process – those emotions. I have the right to process them without pharmaceutical, or third-party-intervention.
I’m doing better this time this year than I was, this time last year; and this time next year, I’ll be doing a lot better that I am this year.
I am healing, and healing of this nature takes time. I was married to Bob for 44 years; I figure by 2040 (according to data on recovery from a severe life-altering trauma), I should be certified A-Oaky by anyone’s standards.
Bob and I had always been a Team: 2 together, against the World. We started out life together like that … and we ended our life together, like that. We prayed together to get through those 106 days. I prayed for Bob; Bob asked the chaplains that came by to see him, to pray for me – we were a Team. Together, and separately. I saw what that insidious illness was doing to Bob’s body (his body was failing, but his spirit was unbreakable). Bob saw what his imminent leaving was doing to me (I was rejoicing with him; but my heart was breaking).
As a Team, We both wanted his spirit to be free.
As a Team, We both wanted him to stay with me.
Elohei had the final word – Bob went Home beyond the clouds.
When the “We” became ‘Me’, it was a hard adjustment. On my end.
It's still a hard adjustment. I’m glad Bob’s address is where we both long to be … but man! I miss my man.
I don’t feel numb anymore; I’ve made friends with the feeling of missingness.
I don’t feel hot anger towards candy scott or ron cook anymore; neither of them has a conscious, so anger is wasted on them. They both believe in karma … so, I can stand aside and let karma deal with them.
The sadness lifted when Bob’s address changed in a heartbeat; Bob is enjoying a new body – one that will never again fail him. No more pain.
Jealousy was short-lived, and I rejoice, even if tears do occasionally run down my face; because I know Bob is more alive today, than he ever was when I knew him here, on Earth. And when I eventually join Bob beyond the clouds, we’ll be a Team again. A different kind of ‘team’, but together again, just the same 😉
Moving through my new life Solo Lobo doesn’t seem frightening anymore; I love and am loved in a different way now – Elohim has blessed me with good friends who don’t let me be alone, very much. I am thankful they are part of my new life’s journey.
I regained the boldness I had before I merged my life with Bob’s life. I need that boldness to carry me forward. I need that boldness to continue living in the house my husband provided for me (and Elohim apparently insists I keep, according to the promise I made to Bob). I need that boldness to face my husband’s killers when they cannot be avoided. I need that boldness to continue living a life that no longer has a place for me in it (mother/grandmother). I need that boldness to sink roots in a city I do not want to live in, and find a way to make it my Home.
I do not mourn. Bob’s presence, like Elohei’s presence, surrounds me – I’ve learned to live with the knowledge of him even if I cannot see him: I feel him. I know he, like Yeshua, walks with me. Yes, I feel a missingness of his actual physical presence, but I do not mourn as the world mourns … as those with no hope.
I am still getting used to a life of widowhood. It is strange, and most of the time (praise The Lord) I feel kinda aloof from it: I am still me, and becoming more and more Me as time moves forward.
Though I did go through a period of reliving memories in the early stages of widowhood (which I think was normal; and a healthy way of healing), I refuse to cloak myself in despair or become a maven mourner. Bob would not want me to do that, and our Faith forbids it.
I refuse to get lost in the depths of depression and break like a fragile object, when I would much rather put all my energies into rejoicing that my husband now has a much better life in a much better place.
I am happy for him, and that makes me happy ;-)
Today I finished the Christmas Lapghan, that I started working on December 1st. This is my own design – if there is another, I am unaware of it; I designed this one while watching Hallmark movies to “feel a groove mood” for Christmas. Widowhood sucks ☹
The finished Lapghan measures 42-inches wide, and 48-inches long. This is not a full sized afghan ... just a shortie, meant to be laid over your lap and knees for warmth.
Here is the pattern for the lapghan: you can use any color combo you wish – I used White, Paddy Green, & Burgundy. This pattern uses simple sc throughout, and makes up real nice; and quick ;-) If you find it difficult to keep the increases and decreases straight in line, use a different colored length of yarn as a marker and carry it up the pattern, moving it up as you work it up: you will need 13 ‘markers’.
RIPPLE LAPGHAN PATTERN
Materials: Worsted weight yarn in colors of choice – 11 ounces White, and about equal amount of Paddy Green & Burgundy; Size G hook; tapestry needle; scissors.
PATTERN: With White, ch 238.
Row 1: 1 sc in 2nd ch from hook, 1 sc in each of next 6 ch, *3 sc in next ch, 1 sc in each of next 7 ch, skip 2 ch, 1 sc I each of next 7 sc; repeat from * and end last repeat with 1 sc in each of 6 ch, skip 1 ch, 1 sc in last ch.
Row 2: Turn – skip first st, *1 sc in back loop of each of 7 sts, 3 sc in back loop of next st, 1 sc in back loop of each next 7 sts, skip 2 sts; repeat from * and end last repeat with 1 sc in back loop of each next 6 sts, skip 1 st, 1 sc in back loop of last st. Drop White & attach Paddy Green; ch 1, turn. DO NOT CUT YARN … you will carry MC yarn up the backside of lapghan as you work it and pick it up to be worked with each alternating MC stripe. Attach new color. When changing colors, always draw the new color through the last loop on hook before turning work.
Repeat Rows 1 & 2; drop Paddy Green & attach Burgundy; ch 1, turn.
Repeat Rows 1 & 2; drop Burgundy & attach White; ch 1, turn.
Repeat the alternate stripes process of yarn changes (2 R White – 2 Rows Green – 2 Rows Burgundy) until lapghan measures 48-inches in length from start.
There will be 23 ct. White stripes; and 22 ct. EA of Green and Burgundy … with White being the ending stripe. Cut White, and tie off. Neatly weave in loose ends.
It was raining this morning when I set out for my exercise hour in Castle Rock. I stopped at Baker’s Corner for a quick breakfast bite … and at Mr. Bill’s Espresso Shack for a Peppermint-flavored Latte.
I noticed when I was getting into the Highlander at Baker’s Corner, that I could see a whole line of housing. Clearly. I remember thinking that the construction going on at the end of Schneiter Dr. (across from Willow Grove Road) must have really taken off the past two weeks: those buildings I was looking at looked pretty established in such a short period of time.
As I was sitting in line at Mr. Bill’s, the preverbal {light bulb} went on in my sluggish morning brain, and I thought, “the house is gone! That’s the change”. I had been looking at established buildings earlier in Baker’s Corner parking lot – I could see them clearly because the house surrounded by trees was no longer blocking them.
I don’t know who is buying all the land in this neck of WA … but I’m willing to lay money down, that the money trail leads directly to barak hussain obama, and joe biden.
New apartment buildings have been going up all over Longview, from one end to the other; and in other demonrat controlled counties too.
I started getting mad. Americans don’t get a free pass to invade other countries and ignore their laws. Americans don’t get set up in cushy living quarters just because they breathe … and if biden is going to fork out $450, 000 to parents who have had their children lost – or stolen – and their entire familial background erased from them due to government screwups, I want my $450,000. The public school system, funded, staffed, and supplied by government henchmen/henchwomen brainwashed my daughter when she was 9 years old, and stole her from me from she was 16 years: for 25 years, I never knew where she was, or more recently … what her new name is (I heard through the grapevine she has changed it – along with her gender). All due of government intrusions and screwups that led to permanent seperation from me.
If biden is going to “make things right”, he can start making things right with American parents that the demonrats have shafted. Money can’t undo the damage the demonrats have created and caused, but if he can fork out big bucks to known terrorist sectors of society, and illegal aliens just because they breathe … he can fork some my way for the mental anguish and soul-searing pain his hellish political party has inflicted on my life: my life has been shattered beyond repair, due to the poisoned political propaganda clinton, obama, and biden has been preaching for decades.
When my latte was ready, and paid for, I couldn’t tear my eyes away from that muddy empty lot – or get out of town fast enough.
But there were more unexpected events unfolding.
Turning onto Coal Creek Road, I saw that there had been more recent arson activity:
And a bit further up the road, around the first bend, I sat out ten minutes with my hazard lights flicking (I didn’t want to be ass-ended by a speeding car unaware of the deer activity): two full size deer were pacing back and forth in the roadway before finally making the decision to meander off the left bank side.
The drive over Delameter Road; and exercise in Castle Rock, was lively and filled with good-natured ribbing and lots of laughter – I enjoy that hour. And I’m really glad that they’ve decided to snub insleeze and get on with life: life isn’t life if you’re not enjoying it.
On a hunch as I was leaving Castle Rock, I decided to drive the other end of town and see if Pleasant Hill Road had been opened up. I miss driving that road. As I came out of the corner and into the straight stretch, I whooped and veered off onto Pleasant Hill Road: it was open again!
What a nice unexpected surprise 😊
I enjoyed the reopened backroad drive.
When I got back home, I barely had time to get inside the house before my neighbor across the way was on my porch with mail the mailman had misplaced. Most were bills already paid … but one envelope stood out.
And staring at the Name addressed – and contents noted; my blood began to boil.
More government screwup.
More mental anguish.
More unexpected upheaval.
I am six days away from the 3rd year of Bob’s physical death.
I really do not need this thoughtless and cruel reminder.
Coffee was not going to be strong enough – I grabbed my coat and purse and drove back into town: the large white envelope on the dining room table, and the rainy day, arson too close to home, and Americans being royally shafted ... ALL of it begging for a relaxing Hot Buttered Rum distraction.
I aimed to please that beg.
Normally I have a hard and fast rule about liquor and anger; DON’T. It doesn’t mix well.
But, then again, widowhood, a looming three-year-death-anniversary, and a shitshow government doesn’t mix well, either. MPO
So, that is how I ended up in the liquor store section of Winco.
Standing in the aisle trying to decide which rum would better suit … I was shocked to see what was stocked next to the bottles of hard liquor.
Later, at home; I made a cup of hot buttered rum, lit a candle, read a few chapters of my new read … and hoped, as I rinsed my cup out, for better times ahead.
Please, God.
I’m not asking for the sun and the moon …
The ninth candle (the middle candle) in the Hanukkah candelabra is called “the servant candle” because it represents Yeshua, Who is Light – and Who gives light to those seeking illumination. The shammes candle is lit first … then all the other candles are lit on their respective nights, one by one, from left to right.
Tonight, the last Hanukkah Night of 2021, I am going to refer to this shammes candle as “a private detective”.
Why would I do this?
Because this year, I am stepping aside in all areas of my life; and allowing the Ruach Ha’Kodesh to sort through the ruins of my life to strengthen and rebuild my new life, so that when the call comes, I can meet it in full confidence of purpose and promised fulfillment.
Til The
Walls fall Down: (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PceFpWeJ62o)
In survival mode to get through the hard months of widowhood I built walls around my heart, and my mind; to dull the pain, and blunt the maliciousness thrown my way.
And those walls erected helped in my healing.
But it's time the walls come down, now.
I am much stronger this year – physically, emotionally, and spiritually.
As the shammes candle is lit, I agree that it is time to step forward and provide assistance to those Elohim puts across my path, as the healing love of Yeshua continues to nourish my soul and restore my spirit; as I have been helped, so I will help.
So help me, God.
“I can do all things through Messiah Yeshua” (Philippians 4:13).
As the first candle is lit, I pray that those who are feeling lost will find their way to The Light that will illuminate their way out of darkness.
As the second candle is lit, I pray that the Ruach Ha’Kodesh will bring the warmth of salvation and/or spiritual renewal to those who feel the chill of bitterness on their bodies, their hearts, and within their souls.
As the third candles is lit, I pray that those who are sorrowful will have their lives/spirits brightened again with the hope and joy that only Yeshua can give them.
As the fourth candles is lit, I pray that creativity and inspiration will once again flourish, despite the oppressive staunching of spirits during this age of covid madness, and era of political upheaval that has everyone at war with each other.
As the fifth candle is lit, I pray that Yeshua’s Light will bring clarity to places of confusion – and reveal truths that need to be known for healing.
As the sixth candle is lit, I pray that the Light’s bright flame will fuel the passions of those wishing to change their lives for the better: thereby improving their small corner of the world for all in their immediate vicinity.
As the seventh candle is lit, I pray that Yeshua’s love light will illuminate the places of brokenness that needs to be healed in ourselves, in others, in the world at large … and be a beacon that propels us forward in the journey to wholeness.
And as the last candle, the eighth wick is lit, I pray that Yeshua, the Light of the world, would brightly shine curative/restorative love upon those souls in conflict – to replace ignorance with knowledge, fear with peace, hatred with understanding … and bolster them with courageous love live Life abundantly with grace, joy, and prosperity.
I’m at that age where I meet a lot of widows and widowers; and they all say that the holidays can be sad, lonely times – with/without family. We all have generous friends. Some accept invitations … and some, like me, thank our inviting friends … and politely opt to stay at home: the festivities aren’t as much fun without our special someone, no matter how much we love our friends and appreciate their invites: we can’t guarantee that we won’t, at some point, become ‘debbie downers’. We won’t mean to, but it may happen. We might be happy one minute and crying the next as a memory fills our heart. We may want to bolt and run, instead of enjoying the celebratory chumminess. We love our friends. We don’t want to deflate their holiday cheer.
On familiar ground at home, some widows and widowers may cling to old family traditions – or start new ones. I kinda blend the two, but I am noticing this year that a lot of the ‘old’ is not creeping in as it has since 2018: I’m not on auto-pilot this year, and I’m not decking the house out as I did with a husband in house and grandkids underfoot – my holiday décor this year is more solo-lobo-chick pad-style; no frills, just enough to make a splash for anyone dropping by … or glancing in the windows when they drive by.
I kept the handmade wreaths I made for this house, and the holiday doormats I bought in 2017, when we moved in here. I kept the Magen David Stars Bob designed and crafted for me (and moved with us, from our other house). I kept my own decades old tradition of making plastic canvas snowflakes for the windows (I made 15 new ones to hang, because there are more windows here, than at previous houses). And I kept the decade’s old ‘Twelve-Days of Christmas’ tablecloth (because I like the song, and the cloth is colorful 😉). But, everything else has been replaced. I don’t like climbing up a ladder, so the tinsel garlands Bob used to hang for me every Christmas for our 44 years together, no longer happens. The front porch greenery garland, was donated to a Senior Center Garage Sale two months ago – I didn’t want to fight with it this year. The animated musical dancing/sax playing reindeer, and snowman our little grandson got a kick out of, remained boxed up this year; and will probably go to a garage sale table in the coming year. All the other do-dads and frauhahs were bought over the past three holiday seasons without Bob in them: we have to do what we need to do to survive the loss and get through the holiday’s solo lobo.
This year, the holidays are a little more festive; I find myself truly smiling and laughing – more actively enjoying the holiday season. While the winter holiday season will never be the same … that doesn’t mean they can’t be good again.
This Hanukkah, the light of the candelabra shines bright with hope and renewal – each flickering candle wick reminds me that my strength to shine in the midst of the darkness crowding me, comes from the {oil} of Elohim’s power. Yeshua is my Husband now, and His love coupled with the indwelling of the Ruach Ha’Kodesh, will always burn bright – even if I sputter now and then 😉
When I
thought my oil reserve had been depleted following my loss, Elohei wrapped me
in his love … and surrounded me with people who came alongside me and helped me
win the victory over warring sorrow, edging my life 😊
That is an encouraging message.
The miracle of Hanukkah was that a very limited amount of Holy Oil – enough for one day – burned for eight consecutive days, while a fresh batch of oil was being produced.
That flame of selfless sacrifice for the whole, burned steadily to highlight love, restraint, harmony, ambition, devotion, bonding, and receptiveness … from which stem all motivations of the heart.
It was no mere flash of light – but a flame destined to shed unfaltering light, under stressful conditions: as a permanent fixture in our lives.
When I light my candelabra, I touch flame to wick with a thankfulness from my heart for the steadfastness of my God. For the strength of my Husband’s unfaltering love. For the warmth of my stalwart friendship circle, which always increases. And for the comfort of the world leader’s acknowledgement of Jerusalem as the center of Israel.
(https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/United_States_recognition_of_Jerusalem_as_capital_of_Israel)
That is a lot to be thankful for 😊
So, I toasted the flames of hope that burn bright in the night, with a Pomegranate Seltzer – I saw this pack in the store, and thought I’d give it a try: pomegranates are Israel’s primary icon, coming in second only to the Magen David Star.
I was curious, but at
5% alcohol content, I’ll be nursing this thing through the night 😉
Tonight, is Shabbat; as well as the 6th night of Hanukkah.
I finished up my Christmas décor this afternoon – it is low-key, and that’s okay.
I did the interior window décor yesterday afternoon … (https://jeastofeden.blogspot.com/2021/12/blessings.html), as well as the porches: quick, and easy 😉
This afternoon, I whizzed through the rooms inside … again, quick, and easy. Nothing spectacular, but it embraces the gist of the holiday spirit 😊
I am feeling the holiday charm this year – that’s a good thing; it’s been absent since 2018.
I didn’t want to get overwhelmed, so I just ‘did’ the basics: and observed Hanukkah at sunset.
The pink-highlighted-clouds showing at the sunset hour appeared to look like snow predicting clouds … and I was right; the phone is showing a snowflake icon for Saturday’s weather prediction.
I am taking a new read with me to bed tonight: I just finished a book by this author, so I know it will engage me. And her storylines are not a scary as the titles portray 😉
