The Keys

She said that her neighbor dropped by for a visit and had left without her apartment keys.  Realizing the keys were still there, that's when Mama tracked down her neighbor, and she gave away the keys. The neighbor greatly appreciated her efforts.

Meanwhile...

I searched. I searched my purse, my tote bag. I searched the house. I searched my car. I searched through the clutter on my kitchen bar. I searched my purse again. I dumped everything out of my tote bag. I cried. I searched through pockets. I searched the trail throughout my house and garage. I cried. I dumped out my purse. I  cried some more. Then I remembered what Mama had said about her neighbor's keys.  That's when I stopped crying and started yelling my favorite dirty word.

"So THAT'S where my keys are.  No wonder I couldn't find them!  Mama gave them away... #@#*!"  Satisfied I knew the whereabouts of my keys and that tomorrow would be a better day, I finally relaxed and drifted off to sleep.

Tomorrow was a good day.  It brought restored faith in myself.  It brought sunshine and order.  It brought birdies that were singing.  Tomorrow also brought clarity.  Folding the blankets in my car (the ones I had thrown about the night before in my frantic search), I came across the keys:  the missing keys. 

"Well, _ _ _ _!  _ _ _ _, _ _ _ _, _ _ _ _!!!"

End of Story.

I hate days like that!

           Three little keys.  One big lesson.          

Things I've learned this week:

1.  Write a blog entry every week telling about three things you learned that week. (It's best if it's related to your business in some form or fashion.)

2.  Put your keys in the same place every time AND be cognitive while doing it.  Pay attention every time.

3.  It isn't the end of the world when you have a bad day.  Assure yourself that it's okay and do your best to make the next day better. When necessary, repeat several days in a row.  Repeat.  Repeat.  Repeat...






@Copyright  2014 Cindy Lou Hodges. All Rights Reserved.

The Question

Doctors' waiting rooms:  a menagerie of different folks forced to cohabitate together until their name is called!

Yesterday I shared the waiting room with three pairs of people.  A young grandmother and her preteen grand daughter were the quiet ones.  They smiled at me.  Across the room sat the middle age woman with her flaming red hair, her laptop, and her senior male companion.  They were recanting his medical history, details and all, as she documented his history.  Pleeze.  They were oblivious to their rudeness:  oblivious to their crudeness.  They ignored me.  I wished I could have done the same.

Then there was the sullen-looking couple who sat right behind me, the backs of our chairs unmercifully rubbing each other.  My mother sat beside me, her wheelchair placed in the only available space.  So, there I sat filling out the medical forms when I heard the woman behind me say, "Would you say I am a person who keeps her word?"  I dared not turn around, but what a strange question to just blurt out to someone.  Surely she wasn't talking to me, but there was no response from the man directly behind me.  So, after a long quiet spell, she asked her question again, just a little bit louder, "Would you say that I am a person who keeps her word?"  Still no response.

The third time she said it with some attitude, "WOULD YOU SAY THAT I AM A PERSON WHO KEEPS HER WORD?"  He finally said, "What did you say?"  Good gosh, she had to say it again, and this time he retorted,  "Huh?".

I felt like I was in a twilight zone, and all the exit doors had been sealed tight.  The ventilation had seemed to stop, and the fluorescent lights were dancing in circles.  There was no way out.  I was forced to experience this human behavior of humans I had never seen before and never wanted to see again.  My gut instinct was to turn around and yell to the man, "She said... 'Would you say that I am a person who keeps her word?'  Well, is she?  Huh, Huh?  The answer is either yes or no!"

But, before I could whip around in my chair and blurt it out, she interrupted my thoughts and yelled, "Is this your good ear or your bad ear?"  "My gosh, if it's his good ear, I am so out of here... I am bustin' a hole in the wall and runnin' like hell.  What on earth is wrong with these people???"

Finally, without any prodding from me, her bellowing  made contact with his brain.  He understand her question, and he barked, "Yea.".  And, thank goodness, that was it.  She did not ask any more questions. It was over.  I didn't hear another word from either of them, and I didn't feel any more chair movements from behind.  And, as protocol dictates, all of us sitting in the room, pretended nothing had just happened.

What a weird, uncomfortable situation.  I don't know who I felt the worst for:  her, him, or me.  But, it was "real life drama", and the effort spent on obtaining that one answer seems such a waste.  If we could have channeled all that hot air in the room, we could have generated enough electricity to cool the entire building, and a burst of fresh air certainly would have been welcomed.  I find it strange that the poor woman had to ask someone else what she should have already known about herself.  Had she not explored herself enough to know the answer?   How sad, truly sad.

It seems that I find myself in some very uncomfortable places lately, you know... places that are not my normal comfort zone.  And I know we're supposed to keep a stiff upper lip, keep forging ahead, make everyday a masterpiece, and learn to dance in the rain.  So, I keep telling myself, that I can do this.  I can go wherever I need to go, deal with whomever I need to deal with, and I can do whatever is required of me.  I can do this.  But, I think what disturbs me most about this "waiting room episode" is the fact that this rude, obnoxious, insensitive woman who invaded "my space", stirred up something inside me, something my conscious mind would rather not hear and would rather not face. 

Her question still echoes in my mind, but instead of directing the question to someone else, it's time to ask myself... ask myself boldly, bellowingly, strongly, softly, quietly, and then gently... "You say you can do this, Cindy, so... would you say that you are a person who keeps her word?" 

"Well, are you?"



@Copyright 2011, Cindy Lou Hodges All Rights Reserved.

She and Me

She annoyed me. This gentle looking, blue haired "Senior" really made me see red.  She was supposed to be helpful.  That's what hospital volunteers do:  they help people navigate their way through hospitals.  But, this one?  Well... I think she needs to stay home.

Can't figure out why I'm sharing this with you, other than to blow off some steam.  Or, maybe, I need to work through this, and see if I can learn anything from the experience.  I've always said that I can learn something from everyone, educated or uneducated.... so, let's see if that holds true, and I can "walk my talk" on this one.

We had spent the morning at the hospital getting blood tests done, so we had already experienced the routine of checking in at the front desk, waiting for our "buzzer" to flash and sound off, and being escorted to the blood lab.  Now, for the second time in one day, we were back with doctor's orders to have a unit of blood withdrawn.  It's a common procedure for someone with the blood disease Polycythemia-Vera, but not always easy for geriatric patients or someone with weak veins:  both of which Mama is, and Mama has.

Knowing the procedure might take a couple of hours, we went to the ladies' room... with the buzzer tucked in the side of my purse, that purse on my shoulder, both shoulders pushing Mama's wheelchair.  It's never easy going to a public restroom when you're in a wheelchair, and the simplest tasks are not simple at all.  But, you manage as best you can. 

While behind one of the inner "closed doors", we heard someone yell.  I ignored it.  But, then the yelling continued, and this time I understood my mother's last name.  "What?  ... what is she saying?"  So, as I  opened the door, this woman in the blue coat was standing at the big door with her hands on her hips.  She promptly huffed, "You're in here...  I have been looking all over for you!"

I didn't understand why she was so rude, so I replied... "But our buzzer hasn't gone off.  I've been listening for it."

"Well, they're ready for you, and I had to walk all over to find you!"

Totally aghast at her attitude, I tried to change the mood by light-heartedly saying, "When you gotta' go, you gotta' go."  After washing our hands, I rolled Mama out the door as the bluecoat stood rigid as a sentry. 

I knew my way around the hospital.  My gosh, we had lived our lives there for nearly a year, and I needed no instructions on how to get to the lab.  But, as I rolled to the front desk, I heard this demanding voice behind me, "Keep walking!"  The one time I slowed down, she bellowed it again, "Keep walking!"

Her hostility echoed, and mine was awakened!  If I had turned around to look at her, I know without a doubt I would have lashed out at her and said or done something I would later regret:  something like slapping her in the face.  A cat fight could have occurred right there in the main lobby.  She had definately over-stepped the boundary between assistance and control. She deserved to be reprimanded:  not I.

I don't know how, but, somehow, I managed to ignore the hateful heart behind me.  Don't misunderstand me... I am not a saint.  I wanted to say plenty, and I am quite capable of doing so.  Snippets of reactions raced through my mind.  "Who do you think you are?"  "Respect your elders."  "Who made you boss?"   "A soft answer turns away wrath."  "What an old biddy!"  "Love your enemies...  Argh!"  "Talk back to her.  Put her in her place."  Right and wrong replies reeled inside my head. 

So, with my  jaws clenched, and stinging eyes, somehow I remained focused on what was ahead of me and remained focused on my real task:  taking care of my mama.    She was, fortunately, unaware of what was going on, and didn't understand the humiliation that had just occurred.  But, I did.  And, I felt it for both of us.

Before I left the lobby, I handed the black buzzer box to the woman.  "It never made a sound."  I said, and turned on my heels to walk away.  And it was over.  That little combat between two women, both trying to do their jobs, stopped right then and there.  She thought she had won.  I know I did.  Why was there ever a conflict?  Why was there ever anything to win?

Some battles you can choose.  This one was offered to me, and I could have engaged in verbal warfare with the blue-haired, bluecoat.  I wanted to, and I am quite capable of doing so.  But, time tells me that it would have been wasted energy;  energy that was required elsewhere.

It wasn't an easy day, by any means.  It was exhausting and very draining.  It was, also, a day to remember.  Hindsight shows me I should have and could have handled it all differently, but I am not perfect, and I make mistakes, too.
  
Like I said  at the beginning of my story.  I can learn from anyone, and I have relived this episode many times... over & over again, trying to figure out what good came from this unpleasant day.  Just what did I learn from this woman, besides how NOT to treat someone?    Well, I learned three things:  I learned that I can choose my battles, and I learned that I should save my energy for what really is important.

Those are good things to know, and the entire episode proved to be valuable.  Guess I need to say, "Thank you, Ms. Bluecoat, for challenging me to grow.  I am amazed that our brief time together taught me so much about myself, and I am so glad to know that I can handle folks like you.  If our paths should cross again, I do hope you're in a better mood, because you see... I have a short memory and a big mouth, and I just may not remember the very last thing I learned from you."

"And that is:  that I can make and keep my decision to move forward and to stay focused on what is ahead of me and to ignore the ugly that is behind me."

Well, now that all of this is said and done... I feel better.

Sincerely,
Cindy Lou

p.s.  Not proud of my "human-ness", but so aware of it. 


@Copyright 2011, Cindy Lou Hodges All Rights Reserved.

The Piano Lesson

The piano movers are coming tomorrow, at noon.  They are coming to move my beloved Kawai from one room to another, and I can honestly say that I am greatly relieved that this is finally happening!  It's going to end up right back where it was about a year and a half ago:  in the living room, right in front of the big mirror, visible from the front door entrance, smack dab in the center of the house.  It's moving back to its original place, and something inside of me finds great comfort in that.  It's as if a loved one who has been away for a very long time, has now come back home to stay.

It seems like such a long time ago that I initially hired the movers to come, and at the time it seemed a logical change.  But, once I saw my piano set in place in the other room, stuck in the corner, I knew I had done the wrong thing.  Because the money had to be paid and the decision had been made, my brain, as well as my husband, told me to live with the situation for awhile.  "Oh, you'll get used to it," he said, "give it time".  Others said they liked it because now the den was a "music room", and it looked like a studio.  I thought maybe they were right, and I was too emotionally involved with a piece of furniture.

So, I "gave it time", but I never did get used to it.  Never.  It always felt wrong:  kind of like a shirt with a scratchy tag in its neck, or a coffee cup with a burr on the lip edge.  It just never felt right, and I had no one to blame but myself:  it was my own doing, a "doing" with regrets.

Here it is about eighteen months later, and I can boldly say that I am older and much wiser, and that I have done my time.  Guess you can say that I paid my penance.  It's time to set things straight, and get my life back in order.  Yes, I have to pay the movers, again... but, that's okay.  I consider it money well spent.  It's people like me who help people like them pay their bills.  And, it's people like them who help people like me get their lives back in order.  That's how it works, isn't it?  I help them:  they help me.  We need each other. 

Well, this is not your typical piano lesson, is it?  But, it is a lesson well learned.  There is no place like home sweet home, even for pianos.  My baby is coming back home, and when I pay for its ticket, I'm gonna' breathe a sigh of satisfaction and sweet content.  You know, sometimes, I am just a lot of trouble for myself, not to mention those around me.  Yes, I have just completed a circle, another circle in my life:  my piano, too.  The good news is that now, we both have each other where we belong, plus we both have a couple of new friends.

If you ever need good piano movers, call me.  Most likely I'll be sitting on the bench, in the living room, right in front of the big mirror, visible from the front door entrance, smack dab in the center of the house with a great, big smile on my face. 

Going in circles and wondering, "Why?",
Your friend...

Cindy Lou

p.s. Where it was...

Where it is now... after its journey.... home, sweet home!

@Copyright 2010, Cindy Lou Hodges All Rights Reserved.

Scrambled Eggs

Which shall it be?

"Life is too short for fussing and fighting, my friends."
OR...
"Never go to bed mad.  Stay up and fight!"

Guess it depends on the situation, but I see that most arguments revolve around proving who is right and who is wrong.  We all want to be right.  We want to be the smart one, the superior one, the winner;  but, most of the time, the winning comes at great expense.  Why can't we accept that there is more than one way to do a task, and more than one way to view the situation?  It's all a matter of perspective.

I speak from experience.   Being married to an engineer, and myself being an artist... I know for a fact there is more than one way to get the job done.  For instance:  breakfast eggs.  He likes his fried, squashed, squished and hard as a rock with crispy, crinkled, bacon greased brown edges.  I like mine scrambled with butter, ever so soft, light and fluffy.  It's just eggs, but two distinctly different ideas of how to cook them:  two different preferences, two different perspectives.

Two different people living together:  successfully!  Yes, in this household now, around the cook top, there is peace.  He has his bacon grease and spatula, and I have my butter with olive oil.  'Tis so amicable here.  'Tis so sweet.  And then, out of the blue, holding it high in the air, I hear myself say, "step aside, dear... I have the skillet, and I know how to use it!"

Hungry, grumpy,
and not feeling very patient this morning,

Cindy Lou

p.s.  Even the sweetest rose has its thorns!  (chuckle!)

I Am a Tree

"I am a tree.
My roots grow deep.
I'm planted by The River... The River of Life.
Hosanna's in the wind.
Hosanna's in the rain.
Hosanna's in the air I breathe.
My life He does sustain."
                                   --Cindy Lou Hodges


For months this song was my mantra:  not a happy tune, but a mournful confirmation that I could weather the storm that raged around me.  I sang it to myself while she lay in the hospital flat on her back.  I murmured it as she vacillated from one surgery to the next, from critical condition to serious condition, then agonizingly back to critical.  I remembered it as she lingered near death from staff infections, and it was one of the songs I sang as I crossed the state line commuting back & forth from my home to her multiple care facilities.  It was on my lips as my own personal lullaby at three o'clock in the mornings, and at times it boomed out of me as a defense against the enemy of hopelessness.  As she was fighting for life:  I was fighting for hope... enough for both of us.

That seems like just yesterday, and that yesterday seemed like an eternity.  Only God knows how distraught we all were, and how close we were to quitting.  On the inside I struggled for sanity, while on the outside I struggled for courage.  Taking each step required stepping out in faith and numerous reminders to myself that I could do it... one step at a time.

Whenever setbacks & disappointments knocked the wind out of me, the vision of a mighty tree came to mind, and I imagined my feet sinking deeper and deeper into the solid ground.  I imagined my care giving as an oasis such as the top of a tree is sanctuary for living creatures.  When I felt the world dumping on me, as certain animals seek out trees to mark their territory, I realized that that was just part of being alive... part of being a tree. It would not destroy me, and it might even make me stronger. Time & time again, I would once more try to rise to the task awaiting me.  One more time to encourage myself.  One more time to believe... "I am a tree... my roots go deep.  I'm planted by The River".

Only God knows how... but, here we are, one year after the fall & initial broken hip.  We are home at her house... together, and life is different now.  It is sweeter, and it is easier than it has been. The infections are suppressed.  The surgeries are over.  The hospital bed no longer cradles her immobile, tortured body, and the parade of caregivers has calmed down to a slow, steady pace of two a week.  Sleep has returned once again, and this "welcomed back" friend allows me to sleep through the earlier known three o'clock awakenings.  I even dream again, and instead of fear and darkness, my dreams take me to happy places.

Yes, life is more precious to me now.  Today I saw bluebirds out the kitchen window, and I called Mama to come look.  She struggled to get out of her wheelchair so that she could see the birds flying from the oak tree to the blue bird houses.  Those beautiful blue feathered friends were scouting out the perfect place for their autumn nests:  the perfect place to lay their tiny blue eggs.  That made her smile.  Made us both smile.

Then later, as I finished showering, I heard talking coming from somewhere in the house.  I couldn't distinguish who or what it was, so I opened the bathroom door to better hear.  "Who was she talking to?  Was she watching TV?"  Then I heard... it was singing:  one of the lovliest sounds I have ever heard.  With a voice as clear as a songbird, and with the steadiness of a flowing river, my Mama, Ms. Dimple was singing once again.  It wasn't a song of mourning.  It wasn't a cry for help.  It was a simple song of joy, unintended for my ears to hear.  But, I did, and I'm so glad.  I'm not sure who enjoyed it more:  her, God, or me.  But, it was one of those heavenly moments when all nature is in perfect harmony, and everything in the world seems all right.  It was music to my ears... sweet, wonderful music!

Like I said... life is sweeter now... for her, for me... for all of us!
"I am a tree... my roots grow deep."
God is my strength.
Of that, I am sure.

Cindy Lou


"Blessed is the man that walketh not in the counsel of the ungodly, nor standeth in the way of sinners, nor sitteth in the seat of the scornful.  But his delight is in the law of the Lord; and in his law doth he meditate day and night.  And he shall be like a tree planted by the rivers of water, that bringeth forth his fruit in his season; his leaf also shall not wither; and whatsoever he doeth shall prosper."  ---Psalm 1:1-3  Holy Bible, King James Version

@Copyright 2010, Cindy Lou Hodges
All Rights Reserved

Naptime

"Today I made the bed up before the clock said ten.
But now it's so inviting, I think I'll crawl back in!"   ...Cindy Lou
                                       --posted on Facebook, 9-24-2010

Ah, yes, on this dreary day the sound of rain lullabies me to sleep.  Even with two cups of coffee downed and a good night's rest, I feel the urge to curl up and take a nap.  "Who cares if you do?" you might ask, and my reply would be, "no one, but me, I guess."

It would be easy to take that nap, but hard to deal with myself if I do.  You see, I feel like Rip Van Winkle.  I feel as if I just woke up from a long, deep sleep, and the world has changed around me; and I, too, have changed without my knowledge or my permission.  I see myself in the mirror, and I think "that can't be me", and I see my house and think "what on earth happened?', and I look at the calendar and I protest "it's already the end of September, 2010?  What happened to 2009?"  What happened, indeed?

Life happened, and we as a family dealt with it as best we could.  We united around my mother as she battled a broken hip and life threatening complications that followed... for eleven months now.  Mother is better and is back at her house learning how to live without a hip joint and with a leg that is three inches shorter than it used to be. The staff infection is currently suppressed, and we all are adjusting to her new, challenging lifestyle.

Dimple is her name, and she is my hero, and so is my family.  So is God.  I know without a doubt that God carried us through this long-distant, long agonizing journey, and that my Mama is still with us because of God's mercy and the strong support teams he sent our way:  medical professionals, friends, and prayer warriors.  Thank you all for all you've done for us:  we would not be where we are today without you.  Your love made an incredible difference!  Your prayers we depended upon when we were too weary to whisper our own, and your patience with our absence (mental & physical) made us feel welcomed & accepted even though we were not 100% involved.

We never asked for this accident to happen, we only asked for it to pass.  What has passed is "time", and what is revealed is "life".  Put those two words together, and you have a "lifetime".  It's up to us to decide what we fill that lifetime with, and I'm grateful that I've filled the last eleven months with family & friends.  The messy house can wait, as it has.  The stress lines on my face and the extra pounds I've gained can be dealt with, one way or another.  And, as for the calendar, I will try to believe that it is what it says.

As for that snooze I wanted to take, the desire has passed without my realizing it.  What a parallel to the last eleven months.  They too, have passed without my being aware of it... almost a year now.  When I look back, I see that the impossible was made possible.  I see that some good things have developed from bad things.  And, I see that I was not alone, nor did I sleep the entire time like Rip Van Winkle.  I just put one foot in front of the other and did the best I could.  I lived life, and I hung on, as we all did:  as we all do.

So, there will be no nap for me today, and no scoops of ice cream, either.  I believe I will play the piano and maybe even clean my kitchen.  I will reflect upon God's goodness to me, and humbly say, "Thank you, Lord for your mercies and grace, and thank you for carrying me through this last year."   I may even say, "Thank you, Lord, that I can smile again, even on a rainy day.  It feels so good!"

Isn't it all amazing?  Amazing grace, yes... indeed!
Thank you, God... and thank you, friends.

Sincerely,
Cindy Lou


@Copyright 2010, Cindy Lou Hodges
All Rights Reserved

She Said... He Said!

"I'd talk to the cat, if I had one.
I'd talk to the doggie, too.
I'd talk to the fish in the fishbowl.
I'd talk to the monkey in the zoo.
I'd squawk to the squirrel on the tree limb.
I'd squawk to the turkeys, it's true.
But, why should I squawk and tell them my talk,
when I... can talk... to you?"

"Because my dear,
You hurt my ear.
You babble what you say.
You think too much.
You speak too much.
You jabber everyday.
I'll buy the cat.
I'll buy the dog.
Or take you to the zoo.
To stop your squawk,
To stop your talk,
I'll do anything for you!"

"You will?"
"I will."
"Ahhh... 'Nough said."


Do you identify with either side of the above conversation?  If so, then you most likely have been in a long-term relationship or you currently are in one.  You probably don't speak with this sing-song type of language, but surely you do converse in some form or fashion.  The above couple worked out their differences in, shall we say... an amicable sort of way?  Well, maybe...

In his book, The Five Love Languages, author Dr.Gary Chapman explains different ways people express their love and different ways they want others to express their love to them.  It's a most helpful book about relationships of all kind:  husbands, wives, children, etc., and I highly recommend reading it.  It certainly opened my eyes about communication!  Dr. Chapman states that the five love languages are:

Love Language #1:  Words of Affirmation
Love Language #2:  Quality Time
Love Language #3:  Receiving Gifts
Love Language #4:  Acts of Service
Love Language #5:  Physical Touch

So, in your busy schedule, take time to read this book.  You can discover which language you speak, and if anyone around you speaks like you do.  Can you handle learning something new about yourself?  Is it time for us to learn an additional language, a new style of communicating, a new way of expressing love?  I think so, and I think the woman in the above illustration should go first... and she will, just as soon as she finishes, excuse me... just as soon as I finish.... squawking!


"Dear Lord, I am so focused on doing things my way.  Forgive me for my selfishness, and show me new ways to love the people I love.  Help me understand them.  Help me appreciate them.  And help me show them, in ways that they understand, that I love them .  Thank you, Jesus.  Amen."



@Copyright 2010, Cindy Lou Hodges
All rights reserved.

All This Stuff

Posted on Facebook September 11, 2010

 Ah, yes...Ms Betty Boop strikes again with a sassy blow of reality. From the looks of my overstuffed "stuff"...my motto has been the same... well, almost. I, too, have far too much. I, however, am the one who brought it in. So, take away the pretenses & take away the stuff, and I see that I'm guilty, just as bad as Betty Boop... only worse! Yikes! It's time to clean out the closets!!!!


Yards & yards of fabric bolted to the floor... literally!  As I swung open the armoire door the bolts of unused fabric fell to my feet, on my feet and almost toppled me over.  I'm talking full bolts of  fabric that I had collected for my house decorating projects.  Most of the fabric came from the $1 yard table, which is just almost unheard of any more, so you can understand why I purchased the full bolts.  What a bargain, and if I didn't buy it, someone else would!  That is a painful thought, indeed.  After all, I might need it someday. Yes, might.  Might not.  Might yet, but haven't yet.  And, that was five to ten years ago. 

Now the raw truth lay piled around me, and there was no denying that I have a problem, and the problem is much deeper than the spoilage at my feet.  I am a shopaholic.

There I said it, not out loud, but with a whisper.  It doesn't sound so badly that way, and it doesn't hurt my feelings quite so much.  But, the truth is that I'm good at what I do!  I recognize good buys.  I love pretty things.  And I see possibilities in most everything.  Bargains jump at me and beg to go home with me, and I can't resist.  It is a weakness of mine, and for the longest time (most of my life, actually) I considered it a strength that showed how creative I am.  But, today, I see that it's my downfall... pardon the pun.

All this "stuff" has to be dealt with.  It is time to clean out the closets, time to glean the fields, and time to start a new season.  And I believe I can do it.  I believe I can do it with as much gusto as I had while bringing it all in.  It's time to put on my big girl panties and grab the bags & boxes for all my treasures.  Just like there once was a time to buy, there is now a time to say bye-bye.  It's time to share the wealth and let someone else own the pretties.

"I want, I want, I want..." is in the back of my mind, yours too, I'm sure.  But, for me today the rest of that sentence is... "to be uncluttered, in my mind, in my house & in my soul".  I want a new start.  I do.  What about you?  What's in your way, and how would you finish the sentence, "I want, I want, I want...."?  Now it's your turn to fill in the blank.  You can say it out loud or you can just whisper it in my ear...


"There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under heaven:
a time to be born and a time to die,
a time to plant and a time to uproot,
a time to kill and a time to heal,
a time to tear down and a time to build,
a time to weep and a time to laugh,
a time to mourn and a time to dance,
a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them,
a time to embrace and a time to refrain,
a time to search and a time to give up,
a time to keep and a time to throw away,
a time to tear and a time to mend,
a time to be silent and a time to speak,
a time to love and a time to hate,
a time for war and a time for peace."
                       ---Ecclesiastes 3:1



Scriptures from Holy Bible, King James Version
Devotional @Copyright 2010, Cindy Lou Hodges, All rights reserved!