Before I Forget: Sharing my love for God, family, gardens and my sweet Momma
Author: barefootlilylady
I love sharing about my barefoot gardening adventures, hence my blogger name. As I write, some of my other passions might spill out -- like fun with grandkids, baking and sewing endeavors, what I'm studying in Scripture, and the like. My readers will notice that one of the primary things I write about is Alzheimer's. May what I write be an encouragement to anyone who is a caregiver for someone they love with memory loss.
I’m joining Cathy at Words and Herbs for her annual ‘A Week of Flowers’ meme, which takes place December 1-7. It’s my first year joining her, but what a fun way to bring a bit of colorful beauty to our December day. It’s December 1st–the sun is hiding today and fine flakes of snow are falling from the sky, so I thought I’d spend a little time looking forward to spring in Wisconsin by looking back at some photos from recent years.
Nothing beats the bright yellow of a daffodil in spring-time cheerfulness!The demure pink and blue blossoms of Lungwort in an old crystal salt shakerRaindrops on tulips just outside my front doorPaeonia ‘Gold Standard’ pretty as can be in my mailbox gardenTulips and daffodils usher in the first hint of spring, followed by petite ‘Blue Denim’ irises playing with grape hyacinth muscari at the garden’s edges. The flowers of the old-fashioned Bleeding Heart are a classic favorite. They make me smile because they remind me of when my grandson George called them “Blood Thirsty Hearts” when he was little.
A quick word of thanks for introducing me to Cathy’s meme goes out to my friend Páraig who blogs at The Three Hairs Garden. What sheer fun and enjoyment!
Gardens are sometimes one of life’s best teachers. Flower Roberts noticed an especially poignant lesson. I’d love to introduce you to her blog by sharing her little morning lesson with you.
It sure seems that the seasons fly by a little faster when the number of decades of your remaining lifespan can be counted on the fingers of one hand (with a spare finger or two). Honestly, it seems I was just enjoying the colorful daylilies in my garden and here we are again in the season of falling leaves, snow flurries, and all things pumpkin-spiced.
Almost time for pumpkin pie again!
With Thanksgiving nearly upon us, I’m mulling over this year’s menu and wondering when we can squeeze in a rare family photo. In my mind’s eye, there will be tasty food, a fire in the fireplace, fun games, and the snapping of a family photo.
My greatest anticipation and the thing I especially enjoy about Thanksgiving is the “gather” part.
Here’s a little nostalgic reminisce from a Thanksgiving page of my life. May your gathering – big or small – be blessed and sweet.
By August, the chair garden was looking very pretty.
I am amazed by how much the succulent plants in my “chair garden” grew over the summer months. During the first week of October, knowing we could potentially have a frost in the two weeks while we would be away on vacation, I moved the chair into the shelter of our 3-season porch. We’re back from our warm and wonderful vacation in Louisiana, so I’ve been busy moving the plants from the unheated porch into the house so that I can begin the next phase of over-wintering them.
Crunching through the leaves on my walk this chilly fall morning, I realize it is the 27th of October – my dad’s birthday. This year I would not be making my customary trip to Milwaukee bearing my dad’s favorite gift of all. I find comfort in thinking that my dad is in heaven today and perhaps he is celebrating his birthday.
My birthday gift for dad wasn’t something wrapped in manly gift wrap and tied with a bow. Nor was it something with a gift receipt enclosed just in case it didn’t fit. For as long as I can remember, it was always the same gift – a home-baked pumpkin pie delivered in my beat-up Tupperware pie-taker along with a pint of real whipping cream.
My dad loved pumpkin pie and would broadly hint that I should bring it any time of the year when my mom wanted me to bring dessert. Mom doesn’t care much for pumpkin pie; so on those occasions when dad was hinting, I would sometimes bring two desserts. Something mom would like and a pumpkin pie on the side for dad.
When my daughter Elisabeth was in 4th grade, I taught her how to make pumpkin pie. Her grandpa would brag up and down about his granddaughter’s pie. I gladly passed the rolling pin baton to Beth and, from that point on, Beth was often the bearer of the pumpkin pie at Boyles family gatherings.
Did I tell you that my Dad LOVED pumpkin pie? I remember one occasion when dad unexpectedly stopped by my house one afternoon bearing a paper grocery sack. First he scolded me for not having the back door of my house locked, then he set the bag on my kitchen table. Peering into the bag I giggled when I saw the VERY broad hint…the ingredients for a pumpkin pie. Dad was pretty sneaky…he knew I was going to bring something other than pumpkin pie (at my mom’s request) for a family gathering. He wanted to make sure that I had all the ingredients that were necessary for the REAL dessert.
The week before my dad took up his heavenly residence, I baked my dad’s last pumpkin pie on this side of glory. He took three little bites and told me it was delicious. Mom said it was the last thing he really ate.
Today, as I walk, I remember Dad and I pray.
Lord, I really miss my dad today. I miss making his pumpkin pies and I cry like a baby whenever I make one for my family. As much as I miss him, I am so thankful that he is enjoying this day in heaven without the cancer robbing him of the enjoyment of life. Lord, I am eternally grateful that Dad placed his trust in You as his only hope of salvation. I would guess that the pumpkin pie celebrations we enjoyed here on earth are nothing compared to the angelic celebrations over those who place their trust in Christ, but if your heavenly bounty includes pumpkin pies, Lord, could you make sure that my Dad gets a big piece with whipping cream on top? And, please tell him that Cindie is celebrating his birthday in her heart.
Every year I find sunflowers growing in my garden in places where I wouldn’t have chosen — perhaps planted by the resident squirrels who are a bit willy-nilly in seed placement. Sometimes I pull the volunteer plants out—most of the time I just leave them to grow and enjoy whatever happens.
Classic Sunflower Perfection
This beauty was one of my favorites–classic sunflower perfection.
Rewind of a Facebook Note written sometime in 2015
I made Momma cry today.
Somewhere near the intersection of my trying to be helpful and Momma’s trying to remember, she snapped at me, shooed me away with the wave of her hand, blurting, “Get out of here! Leave me alone! Let me just try to think about one thing at a time!”
With more hurt and frustration in my voice than I intended, I retorted, “Alright Momma, I’ll leave you alone!” Retreating to the solitude of my former bedroom, I felt the door slam behind me, hot tears stinging my eyes, ready to gush at a moment’s notice. I really wanted to throw myself on my bed, bury my face in my pillow, scream and bawl, then drift off to sleep, leaving the nightmare of Mom’s advancing memory loss behind.
Mom in her favorite chair–surrounded by great-grandkid love (circa 2012)
Instead, I stood there in the middle of the room and cried out to God. I was only in prayer for a minute or two, maybe even only a few seconds of time. But in that small measure of time, I felt God’s presence. He was speaking to me. Not in an audible voice, but in that place in the very core of your being where all of life’s decisions are made and emotions are felt. That place where you love. The heart.
God was reminding me He was there and that we would get through this together.
Gingerly opening my bedroom door and peeking down the hall, I spied my sweet Momma at the other end of the hall. She was right where I left her minutes ago, sitting in her favorite chair in the living room, quietly dabbing away her tears of confusion with great big wads of tissue.
Humbled in heart and quieted by the Spirit, I went to Momma, knelt in front of her, then wrapped her in my arms and said, “I’m so sorry, Momma.” My sweet mom put her arms around my neck in a motherly hug and laid her tearful, trying-to-remember weary head on my shoulder.
“Momma, Jesus will help us through this.”
“I know. I know,” acknowledged Momma with gentle, reassuring pats on my back.
Barefoot Lily Lady here, sowing a few more ‘seeds’ of financial wisdom today. Today my husband shared five suggestions on his blog for practicing vigilance in keeping online accounts safe. For the sake of your financial security, please give it a read.
It’s a busy day – no time to write. But here are a few pictures of what’s happening in my August garden.
We received a garden-refreshing rain last night. It’s probably my imagination, but I think a few of my flowers are smiling today. My favorite photo of the week.
Barefoot Lily Lady 