Blessings Abound

Have you ever stopped to consider how often the blessings of God grace your life? How everything, even the simplest of things, has been touched by His hand?

Have you stopped to study the intricacy of a single bloom?

Or stood silently in awe as a great egret took flight?

Or marveled at the glow of the approaching sunset? God can even take LA’s pollution and make it beautiful.

These are but a few outward examples of His love for us. For He also gave us friendship and love, laughter and tears, compassion and forgiveness.

The blessings in my own life are too numerous to count. All day long, I praise His Holy Name for giving me glimpses of heaven.

All of this, I witness and find joy in, not in spite of my pain and illness, but because of it. For through my struggles, He has taught me much, and I am ever grateful.

Where can you find blessings today?

Love,

Jenni and Ken

My Best Friend

Let me tell you about my best friend, my husband.

We met 17 years ago, and my life has never been the same.

He can sing like nobody’s business, but he’s shy and sensitive and sings only for me. He has a sharpness to his wit and is one of the smartest people I’ve ever met, though he chides himself for never having finished college. He seems to have a map emblazoned in his brain. We only have to go somewhere once, and he has it locked in to his memory banks, even if we go years between visits. Sometimes I think he is insane, but he has it more together than I do most days. He’s kind and gentle, and he is ferociously protective of me.

And he loves me. For whatever reason, he chose me, and I am forever grateful for his love and his friendship.

All he has to do is look at me with those dreamy chocolate pools, and I still get as giddy as a schoolgirl.

We make a great team, and he never complains when he finds himself doing more than his share of the chores. He knows when I can, I do, and so he cheerfully does mine along with his, all the while giving me bits of his wisdom and laughter as he chatters away. He doesn’t even mind when I make a comment like, now who’s the schoolgirl, for all the chattering.

We are a pair, that’s for sure, and I don’t know what I would do without him.

As we soaked in the pool yesterday (me sitting on the steps, shoulder deep, and Ken leaning into me, with his feet up on the side of the pool), a young lady walked by with her baby. She stopped when my best friend said hello and inquired about her day. She answered, and then she stopped again, smiled broadly, and declared, “Wow, you two look happy.”

I could not help but smile in return, for we are happy, and I am glad that it shows.

May you find such gentle intensity and trust in your relationships.

Love,

Jenni

You’ve Got Some Nerve

Hey you all!

I know you probably thought I was on the verge of falling off the edge of the earth again because it has been a few days after a nice run, but trust me, I’m still here, and I still ache to share all our good adventures (and even some mishaps) with you all; however, I have had one heck of a time with pain this past week. Last night I could seriously have drawn the paths my nerves follow down my arms and legs because the nerve pain was fiery and coursing through most of my body like lightning dancing across a minefield. If I could remember my A&P from college well enough, I could even have named most of the nerves.

And if that wasn’t bad enough, just when I thought I had gotten rid of last week’s migraine, I was hit by this week’s awesome, more spectacular version. Migraine 4.0, which included the new meltdown programming, so that within minutes, I could become petty, childish, and argumentative without warning.

But enough of that. Through it all, God continues to hold my hand as he blesses us again and yet again, share with me through others His grace and wisdom, and comfort me in my darkest, most anxiety riddled moments, as my fear that my pain will never end tries to rob me of my hope. He is one awesome God.

Our grandson asked me the other day how it is that I am always (his word) in a good mood. He knows of my pain. He does his best to comfort this elder of his in his sometimes awkward teenage ways. He repeatedly tells me I am too young to be his grandmother and he sometimes prefers to call me Jen. I know in his heart he knows I am his grandmother even if not by blood, and I know the depth of his love because I have been there since he was born. So it does not bother me if he calls me Jen in public and Grammy Jen in our private moments. These are the moments that bring me joy. This joy I carry always, a gift from God, and it allows me to choose to be in a good mood. I choose my attitude every morning like I choose a matching pair of socks. I could be bitter and angry about my chronic pain, my constant exhaustion, my past hurts, but I choose to follow my joy and I choose to share it through having a good mood. I choose not to take anyone else down just because I am full of pain and misery. It is all about choice. And I choose a good mood especially so that I do not hurt the ones I love.

May God bless you in your afflictions, as He has for me, a lowly sinner.

Love,

Jenni

 

The sculptures, by the way, we found in Winters, California. As you can see, they are for sale. Quite spectacular in person, and life size. Thanks for reading. I hope you enjoy what I have to offer.

Heavenly Joy

There are times in our lives when nothing seems to go right. There are also times when it seems nothing can go wrong. We have all had both kinds of days. When we are in the former, our psyche, our very soul, seems to get beaten down by all the pressures, stresses, and negatives of life.

Then there are those days when all goes joyously far beyond our wildest  dreams and expectations. These are the days we all crave. We get a sort of high. Our smiles become contagious, and we cannot help but be good to one another, just for the shear pleasure of seeing another person smile.

I crave these days just as much as the next person, but with my illness, I oftentimes must work the process in reverse. My days don’t often go beyond my wildest dreams (though sometimes they do), yet I can still feel that rush, that soul healing joy I desperately crave, by first giving and smiling and loving on others.

This is one of the secrets to my joy. Listen closely, now. It lightens the burden on my soul when I give freely of my worldly, oftentimes cherished, belongings.

Have I lost you? Let me elaborate. My physical being is a mess. I have Lyme disease, fibromyalgia, chronic fatigue, adrenal fatigue, arthritis, migraines, blah, blah, blah. The list goes on and on, unfortunately. Needless to say, I am in constant pain, and this state of constant pain puts a damper on my naturally good mood.

But the Lord is good. He has shown me how to find bits of joy amongst my pain, interspersed with my tears.

Best of all, He has shown me how to get a booster shot when I need it, to energize and heal my soul. It is as simple as giving. Donating. Even tithing (and now I hear a bunch of non-church-goers going, “ugh”). It does my soul good, knowing that something I am able to give can do so much good in someone else’s life.

Ken took a load of building supplies to the Habitat Restore Store this morning.

My heart swelled, and so did his.

Ken took an equally large load to the Salvation Army thrift store.

His smile threatened to push his ears clean off his face, as his mood soared. And mine did, too.

Even with two truckloads gone, we still had a lot to make decisions on. Then I remembered freecycle. It is a yahoo group here in the Portland area. I imagine there might be more chapters around the country. It is worth checking out. We gave away some large ticket items that we simply could not sell. Ken said he would haul them to the appropriate places for donation, but I was feeling so good, soul-wise, at this point that I suggested we list them on freecycle. Within an hour, the first large item was gone, the second is pending pickup tomorrow, and the third, well I’m waiting to hear back as to when she wants to pick it up.

My joy is overwhelming today, even though my body is riddled with pain and my stress level is through the roof.

My stress is so high because we have only a few days left here in Portland before we hit the road, and we have a ton of work to do still. Having access to this “heavenly joy” will allow me to keep on, minute by minute, keeping faith that God will get us over this hurdle. It will allow me to do what little I can to help, with a smile on my face, instead of tears and heartache for all that I cannot physically do.

I wish you this level of joy. I pray that you have instances in your life where the “pay it forward” system of living and giving will touch your heart and your soul with an over abundance of joy and gratitude.

I had a season of being on the receiving end more often than not over the past year or two, and the receiving also blossomed into wondrous joy, as I realized that others did care and did want to help this tired old soul. They lifted me up with a box of apples, boxes of pears, green beans, a car for our use for three months without charge, a hug and friendship when I needed it most, a bouquet of flowers from a neighbor for “no reason,” many homemade meals delivered hot and ready to eat, and so many other large and small blessings.

I am grateful for all the blessings we have received. And I am grateful for every one of you.

Jenni

PAIN

A typical day for me, these wintry days, requires a great amount of courage and strength of spirit. Even when my corporal strength lags far behind my desires, it takes everything I have within me just to face another day filled with pain.

Even though I have worked through most of my troubles from the past, and the accompanying depression is all but gone, I still have the desire to put myself out of my misery. My pain is so great a burden. Misery is the key. Suffering for no reason. I have always considered myself able to handle monumental amounts of pain. I have worked long hours on feet that screamed with every step. I have forced my hands to work through unspeakable torture. But today, as I write this, I have to admit the pain has become too great. I am no longer stoic enough.

Many days I am in so much pain, tears threaten. Any little stressor can set me off, and it is not that the stressor or the person or the “offense” is really great enough on its own to warrant tears. They just overflow. They are pain.

Pain.

I am not enough to handle this pain alone. In times of despair, I want to cut away at my own body to remove the worst of the pain. But then I would have no arms, no legs, no nothing.

On a typical day, I do not leave the house. It is too much for me to muster. When I have an appointment, it takes extra preparation and extra rest the day before. That is, if my pain is allowing me to sleep. It takes great effort to put my pain aside and get out the door. It takes coaxing from my dear husband.

I try my best to accomplish at least a little something every day. This is important to me. I have this drive within that is greater than my pain.

Winters are terrible. Each one I spend here in Portland is worse than the one before. I need to get out of here. Please, God.

A Little Poetry To End The Year

Having done too much yesterday, trying to end the year with a clean house, I spent today a bit pensive, a bit sad. Where has this year gone? So, I decided to wind down the afternoon, the day, and the year with a nice cup of comfort.

Enjoy some poetry on this chilly afternoon, maybe with your own cup of cocoa. Go ahead. I’ll wait until you return from the kitchen.

HOT CHOCOLATE

 

Oh, how delightfully smooth

The delicate vapors

Wafting, floating, inhaled sweetly

Tantalizing tender buds.

 

Ecstasy parts company with intellect

Giddy satisfaction its only desire

Pray hold this infatuation at bay

Put such needfulness to bed.

 

For this heaven, so richly tempting,

Is pure bliss and blue flame

Always such pain in that first hot kiss

Be patient, my love.

 

Jenni Lynn

December 30, 2012

 

 

THE ROSE

 

I dreamed I was a delicate flower

With petals of crimson and gold

Delight spilled from my heart

Like a sweet fragrance in summer

 

I dreamed of warm showers

Falling gently from a soft white sky

Each drop on my velvety petals

Turned into joyous laughter

 

I dreamed of being plucked

Desired, cherished, loved

Held forever in a tender embrace

I dreamed of things unspoken

 

I dreamed of you.

 

Jenni Lynn

December 11, 2012

 

 

ROSES, HUGS, AND LOVE SONGS

 

They tell me roses are red

They tell me violets are blue

They tell me this is where I say

I love you.

 

Cheeks are rosiest in the winter

Tannest all summer long

Hugs are coziest beside a fire

As the radio plays our song.

 

Jenni Lynn

December 30, 2012

The Poppy and The Pod

I wrote the following in the wee hours of this morning, before all the pain and exhaustion from such a busy weekend caught up to me. Before the natural high wore off, allowing all that pain to return, as I emotionally let down my guard.

Please read it as a prayer and a dedication I am making into my new life. I have been struggling with where God wants me, what He wants me to do with my life. Through months or searching and prayer, I may be getting close to His dream for me. And as you know, His dreams for us don’t always line up with our own. His dreams eclipse ours, outshine ours unlike nothing we could ever have imagined.

Thank you for being my readers. May God bless you as He has blessed me.

Love, Jenni Lynn

 

THE POPPY AND THE POD

October 15, 2012

Yesterday I found myself back within my element. Talking with even more likeminded people. Listening. Learning. Absorbing. Stretching. Growing.

I found myself back at Wordstock. The Oregon Convention Center. On the escalators, beneath the giant poppies. I stopped to study these gigantic glass ornaments. They catch the backlight and come aglow. My eyes shift toward the top of the escalator. A large alien-looking green pod sits alone. Closed to the outside world. Heavy and dull. Frightening in its obscurity.

Within this space, this element of mine, I stretch my bubble. I poke it in all directions. I open my eyes to all the possibilities. The learning. The conversations. And then I act. Like a real person. A real woman. A real writer. A real illustrator. A person of good, strong character. I act and feel how I have always believed normal people act and feel every day.

Within this space, this element of mine, I am the poppy, unfurling my colors before the sun. I am no longer the pod, so full of potential but ever frozen in time.

I have no excuses for my past. I will no longer rely on qualifying statements about my efforts.

 

This is me. Living within my joy.

Head held high. Smile broad and bright.

Eagerness pouring from my every cell.

And love.

Compassion.

Courage.

 

This is me. Having the courage to step out in faith.

Trusting God has my back.

My front.

My every footfall.

 

This is me. Meeting the real me.

Enjoying the discovery process.

Seeking only His opinion of me.

Desiring to live up to His vision of me.

 

This is me. Living in love.

Loving God. Loving myself. Finally loving myself.

Trusting His love won’t abandon me.

His truths won’t fade away or change.

 

This is me. Living in trust.

Humbled to be chosen.

Accepting forgiveness when I fail.

Relaxing into the ocean of His truth.

Closing my eyes and allowing His miracles to wash over me.

 

This is me, Lord.

The me you made me to be.

 

Coffee in one hand, cheese-covered guilt in the other. Candy wrappers stuffed hastily in my pocket. You know this about me, and yet you still love me. You still have compassion and not pity for me. You still want glorious things of me and for me. Nothing I do can make you stop loving me. No matter how much I act out or feel like a failure. Nothing.

Like the flood rushing down from the mountains with the spring rains, no dam can hold back or cut off your love. It will wash over me. Drown me in peace and grace. Fill my lungs with righteousness. Only you can love me like this.

Nothing. And only you. Unconditional love at its finest. It is you or nothingness. And no matter how difficult it has been to grasp your depth of love, I cannot begin to fathom nothingness. I pray I never have to.

Teach me, Lord. Teach me speak. Teach me your ways. Put the correct words in my mouth and lead me to the correct actions. Make me aware of you, always. Do not count me among the Israelites who asked never to see your face or hear your voice ever again. Teach me speak, as only you can. I long to hear your voice, feel your presence. Your nearness.

Let me rise and do great things in your name, but keep me humble so that I may stay in your presence and not let conceit destroy me.

There is a brisk clip to my gait as I carry out these joys. These promises you’ve given me. I no longer feel like a fake. No longer on the fringe of life and love. No longer self-marginalized. You’ve instilled confidence in my heart.

I turn my flush petals to your brightness, seeking and accepting your warmth and love. Thank you. Thank you seems inadequate. I love you. Even my love seems inadequate compared to yours.

I am yours. I am your poppy.

No longer the pod.

 

My life comes aglow only with your illumination.

I live to carry out your desires.

I live to ring your quiet bell of grace.

 

I long to hear the trumpets that signal all hope.

Amen.

Love, Jenni Lynn

Dammit Anyway!

I picked up this cute Dammit Doll last weekend from a church rummage sale just down the street from our home. In fact I found a lot of cool stuff and books, but I won’t bore you with what I am reading these days (Hunger Games trilogy) (True Faced) (The Bible).

Maybe I could do a few book  and web reviews in another post, but not today.

The note around her neck reads,

When you want to climb the walls

or stand right up and shout

Here’s a little dammit doll

you cannot do without.

Just grab it firmly by the legs

and find a place to slam it

And as you whack the stuffing out,

yell DAMMIT! DAMMIT! DAMMIT!

It would come in really handy right about now, if only I had the strength to wield such a tool today.

This past week held several doctor’s appointments, and more than several medication changes. And if you know me personally or know Lyme disease in general, then you realize that medication changes bring a worsening of symptoms before things start to improve. Dammit, anyway. For the Lymie, the saying, “It is darkest before the dawn,” is lived out every time we make strives toward a healthier life. Even increasing activity/exercise in the Lymie’s life can cause an undue amount of pain and fatigue, until the Lymie’s body adjusts to the new level of activity, or totally craps out. It is no fun having your legs give out beneath you and being unable to get back up, until strength and control returns to you. Very frightening, indeed.

It becomes more and more difficult to push through these dark, painful times, even though I know the improvement will come. No matter how slowly the improvement seems to come, and it does seem to be at a snail’s pace, I can see the improvement, over the larger picture.

And now I find myself getting deeper and more philosophical than I had wanted to be this morning. (I need to save that for this afternoon, when I finish my study of Micah.) So, in getting back to a lighthearted mood, here’s my dammit list, plain and simple:

• Dammit. The basement flooded again. That’s what we get for living in a really old house with really old plumbing.
• Dammit. We cannot winter in Arizona with the other snowbirds. I believe the change of climate would do my SAD (seasonal affective disorder) great wonders, maybe even eradicate it.
• Dammit. I have so much to do, but I must take care of myself during this time, first and foremost, and either place all else on hold or delegate.
• Dammit. I didn’t lose more than four pounds over the last several months. Only four. I guess that little bit of walking I was doing every day did make a difference.
• Dammit. Finances.
• Dammit space issues/cramped quarters.
• Dammit. Dammit. Dammit.
• Dammit anyway.

So, since I cannot swing the Dammit Doll without hurting myself worse, I shall have to let it all go. Let God take it and let God love me through this.

Lord, I release all my troubles to Your capable hands. Thank You for loving me even when I least deserve it, even when I say dammit. Thank You, Lord, for being my Savior. Amen.

P.S. To our beloveds in California: We may just have to fly down this year, maybe even for the holidays. How does that sound?

These Hands

A few days ago, these hands fed me Chinese food, with only the use of chopsticks.

Since my early years, these hands have been able to draw and paint and create. Their abilities have always amazed me.

Through these fingers, my words flow into the computer.

These hands have held and caressed and cherished and loved many babies and wonderful people throughout my lifetime.

Yet today, these hands struggle with holding a spoon.

These hands cannot grasp a pencil, let alone a paint brush.

And every reach for a letter on this keyboard sends shooting pain through my hands and wrists.

The above words bring tears to my eyes and frustration to my heart, when I think about all I could do, if God would just release me from this pain.

Yet if I think about it, again referencing the above list, maybe my pain serves the purpose of allowing me more time to carry out the most important thing on the list, for these hands can still hold and love others, even in their current state of pain.

Thank you, Lord, for enlightening me. For, I sat down here at this computer keyboard to whine and moan about my troubles, and You showed me Your goodness and guided my hands to type what I really needed to hear this morning. I love You and how You weave Your amazing truths into my small life. Amen.

Blessings Abound

Okay, so this hasn’t been the best week for creating works of art. It is becoming more difficult. I am not lacking imagination, but I am definitely running short on supplies and money to replace them.

Darn medical bills. And other bills. I pray for my son to get a job so that things won’t be so tight, but so far no such luck. It is difficult, three adults living on one retirement income. I am thankful we are here to help my son now when he needs us most. And I am thankful he is here to help us, too. If only we didn’t need to eat so often . . .

Even so, I count my blessings daily. And they do come daily.

I prayed for less pain when doing my writing and artwork, and my best friend and her boss gave me an office chair so that I would not have to sit in an uncomfortable kitchen chair.

Our Jeep broke down. I prayed to God that I did not know what we were going to do. He answered my prayers by arranging for another good friend to lend us their second car.

I prayed more about how we would be able to afford to fix the Jeep. Yet another friend stepped in to offer his free labor and know-how. Still praying about the cost of parts, but I feel confident in the Lord’s workings.

Out of the blue, a neighbor a few houses down offered us a lug and a half of pears from his tree. He even picked them for us. I am very thankful for his generosity. Once canned, they will provide fruit for us through the winter. (That’s my son’s best friend William [another blessing] helping me sort the pears. There’s nothing wrong with our skin; it is dappled shadowing from the umbrella.)

Our neighbors in the other half of the duplex have also been a godsend. They are getting married in a few weeks, and knowing our talents, they have hired us to cook the wedding feast, design the invitations (below), and photograph the wedding. I will also be doing a family portrait for them. This could not come at a better time for us, financially.

There are so many blessings, large and small, in our lives right now. All this brings me to tears. The love we’ve been shown by friends and strangers alike, it overwhelms me.

Another blessing is that our apple tree produced its first abundant crop. From half the apples, I made three pies, and I still have the other half of the honey crisps to munch or to make more pies.

Being gluten intolerant, I made these pies with a sugar cookie crust and a crisp topping. They are amazingly tasty.

I have only managed a few finished pieces this past week, though I have been drawing and have come up with plenty of sketches to paint later, once I can replace some of my supplies.

The imagination is a wonderful thing. As I was painting yard sale signs for Ken, I asked if I could have a few of the smaller plywood boards. These, I will paint upon with acrylics. Below, Ken is adding a second coat of base paint for me. Of course I had the tough job of sanding them smooth, myself!

All the family gets in on the action.

After all the week’s work and prayers and praises, it’s no wonder Tink and I passed out last night.

Hair Today . . .

Has your mother ever warned you not to complain about something?

Like, never saying you are bored or have nothing to do.

Well, Ken, my beautifully sexy long-haired hubby complained about his ponytail while we were driving home from church today. (I am absolutely gaga for gray hair, in case you hadn’t figured that out yet, have always been, even as a teen. Weird, I know.)

 That’s Ken being “licked” by my son, Trevor, when Trevor was eight. Please don’t ask why. Maybe it had something to do with frosting. We were at a birthday party, after all.

I mentioned that he could always cut it off and start styling his hair like when we first met. He made the fatal mistake of agreeing with me. So, being the driver today, I detoured to Super Cuts.

Let’s just say . . . well, never mind. Don’t ask why he has a shower cap on and is giving me an “Oh, Stanley,” grin.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

This picture was taken on a sailboat on the San Francisco Bay, too many years ago to count.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

It’s not that I didn’t like his long hair. I just thought he might look good with a change. And he might enjoy it short for a while, too. He can always grow it back, if he so chooses.

As a side note, Isabel, who cut Ken’s hair, was just finishing up the rather sexy head of hair on a TV star’s head, and yes, he is starting to gray. He’s the star of Animal Planet’s Finding Bigfoot. I’ve never seen the show, but he may be reason enough to watch.

Excuse me while I wipe the drool off my keyboard!

Okay, back to the pictures of Ken’s haircut, and some other funny stuff that’s been going on lately.

One last look, before snip-snip.

I’m not sure if Ken was totally keen on the idea, after the fact.

Too late!

And now on to Ken trying to do his shoulder exercises. Tinker Belle thought it made an excellent tug-of-war rope.

You’ll have to excuse the silk boxers. He wasn’t expecting his picture to be taken, let alone have it put on the internet! But, hey, I told you he was sexy.

If you don’t think so, just remember that sexy is an attitude, not a look.

Chunky Dunking

This whole “being a grandmother to a teenager” is more fun than I had ever imagined, but then again, I loved it when my own kids were at Charlie’s age, too.

Charlie has always been reluctant to call me Grandma. I’m not sure why. He has said that I am too young to be a grandma. (Talk about knowing how to earn brownie points.) I was only 31 when he was born, and technically I am a “step,” but that doesn’t matter when love abounds.

But now, for whatever reason, he’s changed and he has started calling me Grandma Jen about half the time. Maybe it has something to do with all the other grandma types here at the RV park calling me his grandma. My inclination is to believe it is Grandpa’s doing, wanting Charlie to call me Granny.

I don’t know, but I do know that I love it. It is a special privilege to be his grandma, and as I said, I loved those early teen years with my own kids.

Besides, I have just enough insanity coursing through my veins to make me a big kid at heart, anyway.

At thirteen, Charlie’s appropriateness filter hasn’t fully developed, yet his curiosity is fully engaged, and so he will ask some of the oddest questions—and some of the most personal. I answer at my own discretion, and often with tongue in cheek.

Yesterday afternoon when we took the dogs for a walk, Charlie and I found a secluded—and deep—hole in Neskowin Creek, which runs through the park property.

I dared him to wade in, and then he dared me to do the same. I told him that if I were to get in, I would have to take my pants off, at least. His face turned red, and he threw up his hands, “You are not going to remove your pants, Grandma Jen!”

We both laughed, and of course I waded in fully clothed, stopping only when the water reached the bottom of my bra. I did not want to win any wet T-shirt contests on my way back to camp (not that this fluffy girl couldn’t pull it off still ☺).

We talked yesterday after our swim about my skinny-dipping past. Yes, I have a past. Then he asked if Grandpa was with me when I skinny dipped. No, it was long before I met Grandpa. “Oh, well, then were there boys there?”

“Okay, kiddo, you are getting a little personal.”

Then he burst into laughter, turned red, and rolled on the floor. Yes, the tiny, limited floor of the Raven. Poor dogs had to run for cover.

My only regret is that the only “proof” of my dip is a picture of my soggy feet, and me in desperate need of a pedicure.

So if anyone knows where I can get a pedicure out here on the North Oregon Coast, then hook a girl up. I would like to be a sexy young grandma, not just a grandma. There’s still a lot of fire, secrets, and smoldering desire under all this fluff. But maybe that is TMI. My filter isn’t fully developed, either. ☺☺☺

I Love You, My Charlie Brown

We have been having the most splendiferous time these past few weeks with our grandson, and yet, (drum roll, please) it has all at once become exponentially better.

We have finally made it to the coast (Neskowin) with our Charlie Brown (that’s what Grandpa calls our grandson).

Even though the weather isn’t that great, I have already sunk deep into relaxation mode and have been lifted out of depression, the depression that was the result of our eldest dog passing away.

After our swim today, we went into the clubhouse for a rousing game of Aggravation (just for you, Angie!).

As we were finishing our packing up to leave yesterday, I debated whether I should take any of my drawing supplies. Ugh, another thing to pack. Another thing to trip over in the Raven. And then, Charlie came up to me and said, “Grandpa says you might be able to hook me up with a sketch pad.” I gave him the biggest hug and said a heartfelt “I love you.” This is a child after my own artistic heart.

We have also brought my guitar, with plans of videoing Charlie playing (because he is much better than I) while I try to sing along. Again, he steals my heart.

Oh, and the knitting. He’s asked if I have extra needles along for him. At this point I could cry happy tears.

I adore an uninhibited creative spirit, and Charlie definitely has one.

For his thirteenth birthday, which was not too long ago, Grandpa and I got Charlie a book on how to never grow up. It has all the silly pranks and experiments that he just loves to do. That book, though he has only had it a few weeks, is already dog-eared and smudged, obviously well loved.

I do love my Charlie Brown and all his imagination and creativity. And I thank his parents for bringing him into my life. I don’t know how else to say it. Charlie could not be any more special or any more dearer in my heart, even if he tried.

Charlie obviously takes after his grandpa.

☻Taco salad face ☻