What Does She See From Heaven?

I hope it isn't sacrilegious to wonder what Mama Lucas sees from heaven--

in case the dead never see anything ever afterward that goes on down here on the earth. 

 I suppose it could be argued either way from Scripture that a glorified saint does see some things on earth--

or that she doesn't. 

I am not the one to figure that all out. 

I just wonder.

But if, according to Revelation, souls in heaven groan under the altar, asking God to judge the wickedness in the world,

might they not also glory in the goodnesses that happen in the world as well?

The remembering in love.

The grieving in hope.  

The resolving in determination.

Last week the beautiful headstone arrived at Mama Lucas's grave. Last Sunday the gates to the cemetery had been closed because of snow, but this week they were open, so Daddy Lucas planned to go after church to see the gravestone for the first time.

We resolved to drive in from our church as well, so he would not have to be alone.

And Dave, Jonathan's brother who was up for the holiday, planned to join us.

The night before we had celebrated Jonathan's father's 86th birthday, when Dave and Ruth and Emily could be up from New Mexico.  

It was a fun back yard celebration. 

But it also fell on the day that Daddy Lucas had wed his dear Helen 59 years ago.

It had been a hard day for Daddy. 

And then today when we arrived at the cemetery and quietly parked up the hill a bit in the shade, there he was alone, standing by the grave of his dear one,

replacing his glasses.

And so we jumped out of the van and hurried down.

And I wonder, did Mama Lucas see when family came to remember

and to show their love and loyalty?

Someone else was there--an older couple with handfuls of flags, planting them beside the graves of veterans.

"It's too bad that people don't do this anymore," the lady said. "We were given four hundred flags to do this." So there they were, doing it.

"Would you like one for your loved one?" she asked. 

Jonathan and I hesitated. 

"She isn't a veteran," I began, not wanting to put a flag where it had not been meant to be put, 

and not sure if Daddy would like a flag with the flowers.

But the lady disagreed.

"From the looks of the ones around her grave," she insisted, "she contributed a lot to this country!"

So then, yes, we accepted the flag, and I planted it there by the flowers and the grave. 

Mama--veteran mother, grandmother, great-grandmother, friend, and believer.

Did she see the flowers from heaven--

the headstone with her beloved iris and columbine and mountain scenes,

and the family members gathered by to just be together

in honoring the memory of a loved one?

Did she peek through the open gate of heaven to see something beautiful

 and precious

 and loving

 and loyal?

If it brought her heart happiness in heaven, rather than pain, don't you think she might have seen it today?

Ranch Family's Holiday Weekend

The holiday weekend is turning into a major work time for the ranch family that is getting ready to sell and move.

 

Timmy contacted friends to come help finish putting the metal siding on the utility shed that can be used for hay, parking ATV's, or a horse loafing shed.  

 Somehow the work is easier when done with friends. 

Or with a big brother.   

 

More of the friends arrived after lunch to help with the corners of the roof.

The night before, Jonathan had started sorting through the shelves of old paint, lacquer, and such.

 

 Today I helped the girls find cardboard and old junk particle boards to pour out little bits of paint that needed to dry before being trashed. 

And we blew off, wiped off, and loaded a bunch of better cans of paint to donate to Restore, along with sets of dresser and drawers--sitting in the back of the van waiting to be dropped off on our way to Jonathan's clan get-together this evening.

Meanwhile, Danny and Jonathan tore up the old tile by the front door.

Crystal and I swept and vacuumed up the mess underneath.

I scraped up caked dirt from under the old carpet which Jonathan cut away. We are laying more flooring near the door so that there is a place to place shoes, etc., before walking on the carpet. 

I can hear Jonathan and Timmy trying to figure it all out. Usually Jonathan's guys do this kind of work. We're laying some "high end" flooring that happened to be left over after a job in town.

Meanwhile, some boys' pants swing in the breeze.  

 

Hannah and her friend replace cracked or broken switch plates. Don't ask me how so many switch plates got broken and cracked.

And our dog took one look at all the work and decided it was time for an extra morning nap--under the freshly cleaned rabbit hutch.  

And the chickens hid behind a pile of pallets taking dust baths so they wouldn't be enlisted, either.  

While the ranch family looks forward to their own rest day--

the Lord's Day, sandwiched in between a busy Saturday and an even busier Memorial Day

as we get ready for carpet to be laid throughout most of the house.

 

 

So You're Moving--You Still Gotta Do Laundry!

I don't know about other people who move, but when the Lucas family moves, we still have to make our meals and do our laundry and take care of our animals, and do our jobs in town--

all that besides all the extra of painting, cleaning, finishing details on the house that should have been done long ago, and planning for the future--till we are so bleary we stumble into the bedroom only to discover that the bed is piled with all the stuff we moved so we could paint the baseboard.

I ran out of homemade laundry soap, and the prices are up so high that I went ahead and took time a couple days ago to make another batch of homemade laundry soap.

(I know, this didn't help us get ready to move, but laundry piles up, 

moving or not!)

 

That was after I hunted all through the stuff in the basement to find the Fels Naptha bar soap, and I finally decided I must have already sent it up to South Dakota! 

So I climbed on a chair in the mud room to look on the very highest shelf above the laundry sink, praying that I would find just one Fels Naptha soap--and I did!

 Donning a hanky to keep from having to breathe in the fragrance that makes me sneeze like a goat in fresh hay, I made that soap up and filled three big laundry bottles.

And did about four loads of laundry on Monday. 

Tuesday more children arrived home, and Timmy (I mean, Tim, he has grown up now and wants to be called Tim) and Danny (maybe Dan soon?) started pitching in right away to help. 

They were both up there on the ladder screwing up this new slatted thing Jonathan ordered in for the swamp cooler

after it first fell to the floor and lost several slats.

But thankfully, oh, thankfully, not a single piece broke or even chipped, and they could get back together and screwed up nicely to replace the poor 21-year-old one that looked so awful. 

'Cause this house is going up for sale and all the eyesores that we've lived with have to go.

 And Hannah and Danny show me a picture of a new bird, an oriole, that they took a picture of. 

'Cause you still take pictures of birds, you know, even when you are moving.

'Cause God clothes the birds so brightly, even when you are moving. 

And you enjoy the strawberries from Missouri, on the short cake Crystal made.

'Cause God feeds His people, even when they are moving.

(Jonathan and I survived on mostly leftovers the days the children were gone, but that was food, too, that God provided when I didn't have time to make new food.)

And you take time to play the piano, too. 

At least if you are Crystal. 

Even if you are moving.   

'Cause, yeah, even if you are moving, you have to do your laundry and your jobs and your meals and all the normal stuff,  besides all the extra stuff, but sometimes you just gotta stop and sing. 

And right when you're in the middle of singing, "Jesus Is Lord of All," there is a knock on the door.

A little head with bright eyes peeks in, and I stop in the middle of the chorus while Crystal keeps playing.

"Where is Rose?" asks the little head with bright eyes belonging to a neighbor girl,

and all in the same breath,

"That was beautiful!"

And a tired mom knows that really this is what life is made of--the songs in the middle of the sneezing laundry, the music in the middle of the crashing swamp cooler gismo, the "Jesus is Lord of all" in the middle of constant work and interruptions and distractions and a little girl peeking in the door.

'Cause He really is Lord of all--

Lord of the laundry and the luggage,

the painting and the pictures,

the labor and the leisure,

the oven and the oriole,

the brain crash and the bright eyes, 

the moving and the mess, 

the stress and the song.

Jesus is Lord of all!

When a Mom Needs a Vacation--but Where?

Last night all the  birds gathered back in the Lucas nest--six children back home from nephew Kenny Miller's wedding, and Crystal back for the summer from Missouri.

All seven back home for breakfast.

They brought with them 10 quarts of fresh strawberries from my nephew David Morley's strawberry patch in Missouri. 

Crystal pitched right in to mix bread and cap berries for jam or desserts. 

Meanwhile, her mom ended up heading to the bedroom--simply because she was just ready to crash.

For several days, I'd tried to do all or most of the chores with three litters of puppies to top them off,

with some help from Jonathan and friends. 

Up late last night, I just wasn't making it this morning, but when I went to my room to sit down to read my Bible, the room was cold and I couldn't reach the recliner which was piled with tubs of bedroom things I'd had to pack up for the paint job. 

It took me a while just to put some totes away and clear the chair to sit on. And I decided the few cents it would cost to plug in an electric heater would just be okay. 

(It's freezing here the last few nights.)
It would be cheaper than renting an Air BnB for a few days to try to recuperate after months and years without a vacation. 

 

Things have just been too much lately. 

To put it mildly.

Even if sayings like the above do come along to try to change a tired attitude--

"The difference between an ordeal and an adventure is your ATTITUDE."

So an extremely worn out mom tries to have a good attitude.

But that doesn't change the fact that she is beyond worn out. 

 Especially after discovering that she must have thrown away a couple wand tips that were supposed to be connected to the end of the new blind wands we just put up in our freshly painted windows. 

So the mom spends the better part of an hour pawing through all the trash bags she can find both in the house and out in the trash cans--only to not find the missing parts. 

So she calls the dad who asks, "Aren't those in the bag on our dresser?"

And yes, there they were! All this time, sitting on the dresser right where I put them.

Because I don't usually throw away parts to things like that.  

 

So there I sit in my room, deciding to take a mini vacation in my own room since I don't know how to get a regular vacation. 

I can't go hunting for a week like the rest of the family, 

or skiing,

or two thousand miles away to a wedding,

or off to some expensive resort where I could have leisurely soaks in the mineral water

or a cruise on the Caribbean.

Just have to keep chugging along with the monumental task of clearing out a five-acre property on which we have lived for 21 years. 

 

And trying to survive in a house with corners looking like this (with plants all brought inside because of the frost at night), 

 

and this--ladders and boxes in the hall. 

With no end in sight for a long, long time.

So a mom just goes to her room and sits down to read.

And when you are that tired, you don't even get through a whole Psalm.

The mom with the oversize load just reads this verse:

"Be my rock of refuge,

a fortress of defense to save me.

For You are my rock and my fortress; therefore, for Your name's sake, lead me and guide me."

What are Your priorities, Lord?

What is Your time frame?

Lead me and guide me!

 I don't know how to get the rest that I need.

I just hide away for an hour in my room and try to pull some strength out of nowhere.

And there it is, there in the very next verse.

"For You are my strength."

Not from nowhere is my strength, but from God Himself.

The God Who cares about the imperfect Mom who just may not always say things in the sweetest way possible.

Things like, "This is too much. I just can't do it."

Because, in truth, she can't.

After all, she is dust, not God.

God can do all things, but not this mom. 

Other moms, perhaps, but not this one.

I am dust and not God.

So Lord, for Your name's sake, lead me and guide me. 

And just let me know that it is okay to take a mini vacation.

That if nothing else, it is okay to take a nap!

Tornado in South Dakota

About a week ago something akin to three tornados went through South Dakota in the area of Tripp, where we ladies had been at the ladies' retreat. I heard that Amish were heading that direction to help clean up after different Amish farms were damaged. So I called the proprietor of The Farm, where the retreat had been held, to ask how his farm had fared.

Well, as you can see, this is how the barn on that venue fared! 

I contacted my friends who hadn't heard about how the barn we had just used as a beautiful venue

was now destroyed.

A number of them got together Monday and came to help clean up.

Sheet metal and other things were strewn through the trees in the woods. 

 

These are the steps we ladies had climbed over and over, only now there is no roof! 

 

Boys must have had a blast climbing trees and pulling trash off the branches. 

Probably one of the funnest days of their lives! 

So thankful for those who went to help. 

 

One of my friends took a picture of this piece of sheet metal driven into a tree there.

It was a blessing that at the time of the storm, the family who lives there were in another state--

safely away from any injury or harm.

God is good.