I read the mag and found Terri Fischer at terrifischer.blogspot.com. What a wonderful thing she is - crazy, gut honest, fresh, free. I wish she lived next door. She made me feel sane again and that I can make sense of and love my meltdowns. There would never be a dull moment on my street with her there and the things that might happen if we got together.
I loved all the bloggers I read about in the May issue of Artful Blogging. I found that yes I need to blog!
Last night I groused, "How can I possibly do it?" I saw all the beautiful pictures in the magazine and the great lines. This is going to be so-o-o-o time consuming; I can tell. I am already over stressed and timed out. Computers and me are beloved enemies. I don't want to be hooked to it anymore than I am already. And yet,,, there was still something about how all of this blog idea came about so quickly that made me press forward. OK! OK! I will do it, but if it gets complicated, it ain't going anywhere for long.
Well, I woke this morning, June 22nd, thinking, "This is the day." My fifteen year old, cyber whiz daughter, Jenna would navigate me through what needed to happen to get me on line. As we sat down together, I was stunned to find out how easy it is; I feel perfectly stupid. There must be some hitch. It can't be this easy. There must be some mess in this somewhere that will make me curse or scream at my kids. I Just know it. Jenna, you will never leave home until I am done with life and this blog thing.
It will not be hard to remember this day, the day I started blogging.
Today, June 22nd, is my parents' anniversary. Were they still earth bound, they would have logged 69 years together and be 90 years old. They died young of lung cancer. Mom was 43 and Dad at 66. Dad was a US Navy veteran, having enlisted under age with his dad's signature in 1939. He saw WWII from beginning to end in the Pacific Theater. Amazing experiences and stories came out in his later years of life, that I wish I had written down. Mom worked during much of the war and like it so much that she continued after Dad returned from the war. More about that later. Wedding day for Alpha Leroy (Bud) Winn and Leta (Lucille) Sauceman Winn, June 22, 1941
I am a predictable mixture of Mom and Dad's good and bad sides. Doesn't take much to figure that out,does it? Everyone else on the planet can claim the same for themselves. Both Mom and Dad were skilled with their hands and artistic in a blue collar way. Dad could fix anything. Built a cabin in the Ozarks in 1951, and a ranch house for the family home in 1960. He could do wiring, masonry, or design and create a decorative gable. He was the one who taught me how to cut up a fryer chicken. Dad worked as a chiropractor until he realized he was gone most evenings. That didn't sit well with Mom. He found better hours and earned a living as an electrician for TWA for over 30 years and practiced his chiropractic skills on his work mates. At his retirement more than one man told of how Dad kept them fixed this or that pain and kept them on the job.
My father was slow to anger, but once he was at that spot, all he had to do was tap his belt buckle and we kids knew the line had been drawn and we dare not take another step in the direction we were going. Dad was had a cocky, but gentle spirit and had a good sense of humor when he went off to the Navy. He came home from the war in 1946 a different person from the one Mom married 5 years before. I think he succeeded pretty well in overcoming the emotional trauma. We kids had a good home life, as life in the 50's held for anyone.
Mom had her creative pastimes. The first thing I knew her to do was stencil tea towels, then she poured and painted plaster figurines. From a leather box Dad made on board ship her her inspired mom to hand tool leather purses, belts and wallets. A fishing trip to Canada in 1957 introduced her to the world of Mary Maxim ski sweater knitting patterns. Mom was fast at everything she did; she could kint an entire sweater in two weeks. She was also rather high strung and impatient. She didn't let things stand in the way of what she wanted. She enjoyed haggling over the price of a car to Dad's embarrassment. She was not easily intimidated. She needed to be that way, for Dad had his masculine pre- and post-war ways that could be challenging to live with.
More on 22.
The 22nd of the month has also popped up in several experiences I have had in the last 2 years and that has made me curious as to why that is. The number 22, I have learned, is a good number, spiritually significant in the realm of the God of Israel and heaven related things. I think it must be His personal favorite.
It was 22 years that Jacob grieved for his son Joseph, thinking he was dead, while reality was that Joseph was in Egypt becoming overseer of Pharaoh's kingdom. It was 22 years when Jacob's sons return to Canaan laden with life saving food and news that Joseph was not dead, which had lied about to their father, but alive and well and supervising the rationing of grain during the raging famine in the land.
There are 22 letters in the Hebrew alphabet. Incidentally all of them have meanings that directly relate to an attribute of Yeshua, Jesus Christ. I find that fascinating knowledge.
The number two is the only even number that is a prime. It takes two to make a marriage, two to have a fight. There is something strange and wonderful about all the symbolism in this but I won't carry it any farther for now. If someone knows more about the number 22, please pass it on to me and I will blog it.
I chose "My God Is My Teacher" for the title of my space because my journey has been a Judeo-Christian one. Muriel is of English origin but in Hebrew it means "God is my teacher". I will be speaking about the God of Israel once in a while, and my deepening love affair with Jesus, Yeshua, the Messiah. Take it or leave it. This is who I am.
So far so good I guess. Now comes the hard part. Organizing the blog into something that is easily navigable. I have a lot to share.
Thank you, Linda and Jenna for getting me going.
