2:14 AM

 Hey gang! Or maybe that’s just hey! My sweet little baby blog never has a big following and I have not been faithful here for years 

It’s after 2AM and I’m in a hospital bed feeling ever so grateful for so many things. I’m recovering from serious back surgery that became more serious than we expected. 

I am recovering well and while I take my pain meds to keep ahead of the pain, I find counting my blessings is one of the best pain deterrents I know. 

I am so very grateful for the circumstances that allowed me to find the correct neurosurgeon. At 67, I’d known for years I was facing disc fusion in my lower back. Pain has been, for most of my life, a constant companion. But in typical late 1950/early 60s medical practice, when I complained about back pain, especially non-specific back pain  I was told there was absolutely nothing wrong with me. Go play! 

I must have whined a lot because I could spell hypochondriac by the time I was 4 and recall my family calling me ‘Hypo’ as a nickname. I am not saying this in any way to cast blame or say I was not loved or nourished as a child. It was just the times we lived in. 

Turns out, I was born with fairly severe scoliosis which became exerasabated by arthritis, spinal stenosis, disc issues…you name it! My hips were never straight and I drug a leg because it was longer and always wore out one toe of my shoes. 

As an adult I didn’t help by being overweight. As far as I know the largest impact it ever had on me was my inability to deliver my children in the normal way. Both came via c-section. 

This has not slowed me down. I have lived an active life and I have embraced some amazing things. Five years  ago right now we were walking in Spain on an ancient pilgrimage, The Way of St. James. I was carrying roughly a 16 pound backpack. I had pain while walkingit, but so did everyone else! The RocketMan and I walked across the Pyrenees in 2 days as we began our dream trip of a lifetime. 

We did not complete the 500 mile stroll. Around Mike 110, on our first rest day, I slipped getting out of the shower and dislocated my shoulder, catastrophically tore my rotator cuff that already had some small tears, and ripped my bicep. We traded on our pilgrim dreams and toured in Spain and Portugal instead.  I bought a suitcase to put my backpack in and off we went. The pain came with me. But oh my! Did we ever have fun! I cried about halfway home from our departure flight from Oporto to NYC. 

I felt I had failed. And still would call myself a failed pilgrim. But that begs a deeper question. Aren’t we all failed pilgrims? This world is not my home, but my daily pilgrimage to become more like Jesus and less like me…constant failure! 

Back to my back. Pun intended! In 2020 we remodeled our sweet house in Camelot and sold it! We and moved in with my mother while the RocketMan worked diligently to launch his rocket. Actually, it was NASA’s rocket but whatever. Artemis was his career swan song. It finally flew in 2022 and we put our plan into motion. 

We moved to a wonderful small town in west Alabama, bringing Mother with us. We bought a beautiful 1976 model home with great bones. She needs some TLC and we’re working on that. But since 2020, I’d been working my hiney to the bones and I finally did my back in. It was finished! 

I spent most of this summer on alternating ice/heat. Taking copious cocktails of meds just to be able to put on my clothes. I saw the doctor and said, ‘Uncle!’ I give up. I can no longer exist like this. So we set the wheels in motion. I did the requisite PT, pain injections, etc. to go through the insurance hoops. That begin in May. 

I was able to get a referral to a neurosurgeon I wanted to see when we lived in Rocket City USA. But in God’s mysterious ways, we had to move to Small Town USA to get the referral needed to the neuro surgeon we most wanted to see.

I had 2 surgeries in 3 days. The first did not do what they’d hoped so overnight my surgeon came up with plan B. It was a long, involved surgery. I am now three weeks post op, back in Small Town USA in a swing bed T our amazing hospital, doing PT. Rumor says I could go home early next week with home health. So let’s all pray for that. 

So, it’s me! Same Molli only with a straighter back. Probably a bit taller than I was before. Do I still have pain? Honey, I have more hardware in my back than some hardware stores own. I’ve traded one pain for another and will have a long recovery. I fully intend to go back to Spain and walk my pilgrimage. With a better, stronger and reinforced back. 

We are loving retired life. My darling husband has slept in uncomfortable recliners by my hospital bed for 21 nights. He has soothed me, prayed over me, made me focus on his eyes when I was nearly hysterical. We’ve gone into uncharted water when I needed help wiping my bottom. That’s true love, folks. That’s taking care in sickness and health. He’s even doing the laundry. The man can send a rocket around the moon and back but he is intimidated my my washing machine 

I’m ready to go home. To spend my days and nights with him. To learn more daily about God’s love by experiencing the love of a good man. 

If you want hurt details, pop me a DM. We have pictures. I have gnarly scars up my back, around my side and in my belly. I asked to keep the staples they removed from my incisions. I want to have them melted down to a cross. To remember that my healing, while due in part…Big Big part to a skilled surgeon, but my healing is from the Father. I never want to take for granted that by the stripes of Jesus, I am healed! 

So anyway…those are some of my middle of the night musings. Who knows, maybe I’ll see if my old domain is still available and go back to the beautiful artwork of my former blog. 

One more thing. The things you learn about yourself at 67. My buttcrack, according to the amazing RocketMan, is now straight. I lived 67 years not knowing it had an odd curve to it. I found/still find this to be hilarious. He tells me I don’t have to tell everything I know. I recon the more things change, the more they stay the same. I’m still a bit too cheeky for him and he’s still a bit more inhibited than I. 

God’s best to you as you walk your paths today. Look for beauty. Embrace joy! Dance just because. Do something kind for no other reason than kindness counts. Trust your Savior to be near you. 

And a big ol’ Go Dawgs!! 

As ever, 

~Mollianne 

  

Remember

 Do you ever stop and think to yourself, 

"I want to remember how this exact moment feels!" 

To remember the sounds you hear. The colors you see. The way the world around you smells. How the sun feels warm on your cheek. Or how your breath makes smoke in the cold air. How your favorite fruit feels in your mouth as the flavor explodes. The heaviness in your heart or the lightweight feeling of dancing on air.

To take all those feelings in your surroundings, what each sense is experiencing and capture them, wrap them up somehow, and revisit them on occasion. Those memories we tuck away to cherish and take out whenever we want and soak them up, savoring in the memory of a moment.

Do you do that?

I do. I have done that for years and years.

In fact,  I remember vividly the first time I consciously stopped and thought I want to remember what this feels like for the rest of my life. It was in May of 1967. My 10th birthday, to be exact. 

I received saddlebags for my bicycle and I was out for a test ride.  I stopped riding at the top of the hill. I lifted my face toward the sun, a warm springtime sun that emitted warmth on a cool day.  I stretched out my arms over my head, as if to embrace the day, looked up at the blue sky full of white, puffy clouds, and thought, 

"I want to always remember how this feels."

And almost 55 years later, I still remember what I felt that day.  The old blue bicycle with new red saddlebags, the fresh breeze, the sunshine.  I think part of what I was feeling was a freedom of sorts.  I was free to ride my bicycle the rest of the afternoon, as long as I was home in time for supper.  I could choose to ride up this street or perhaps wait and ride down the next street.  I could avoid the hilly streets in the neighborhood.  I could ride up and down the same street over and over.  As much as a 10 year old could be, for that moment in time I felt in charge of my destination. 

Something about the day made me want to take a slice of it and keep it.  

I want to remember.  So often, I've taken note of the way I felt.  Some of the occasions were just ordinary, everyday moments.  Some were destructive and hurtful as I stopped to think I want to remember this and avoid it if at all possible.  

Some are the amazing and extraordinary moments of life;

first kisses (not all that many, but a few, and they were all oh! so! sweet!), good news, births, new experiences, mountain  top sunsets, beach sunrises, a simple melody, a lovely flower, a line of poetry, a helping hand, a shared smile, an answered prayer.

Then there are those rock hard moments that I still recall with tears;

"I don't love you anymore", difficult diagnoses, that phone call you dread, gravesides, lost dreams, walking with a loved one in their last fight with devastating disease, disappointment, saying goodbye.

In all, I have tried to be intentional in my taking note of how things feel. And as I grew older than 10 and as my teen and early adult years flew by and all of the sudden I'm gettin-my-medicare-card-years-old this year...I have learned to offer gratitude for the moments I have tucked away in my heart.  The good and the hard. The moments of my life.  It's the only one I've had and while it has been a rather ordinary life (and that's really okay with me), it has been full of extraordinary moments.  

The thing about all of those moments that links them all together when I sit quietly and ponder them is that God has been with me in every one of them.  

I felt His presence as a 10 year old reaching out to embrace that beautiful day as surely as I felt Him holding me tenderly when my heart was breaking. 

Should the day come that I no longer remember my carefully saved scraps of life, I know He will still be with me. 

Last week, I was fortunate to escape the chill of winter and accompany the RocketMan on a business trip to Florida.  I was able to spend time walking the beach, soaking up the gentle sunshine and feeling the ocean breeze on my face.  I read great books, worshipped and sang praises, tasted freshly caught shrimp, laughed with new friends, and talked and dreamed out loud through the night with the RocketMan.  I danced to some of my favorite tunes. I saw not one, but two launches!  

And I found myself thinking over and over that I wanted to remember how this exact moment feels.  Also? The camera on my phone helps :)

                                                                                 ~mollianne

Just a quick extra note:

I haven't written a blog post in a long time.  But I have a pile of draft Instagram posts with more words than allowed, so I figured it was time to start up again.  Not sure how often I will post, but perhaps I can get back into the habit.  I know, I know...written blogs aren't the rage these days.  Since when have I cared about that?

Thanks for being here, if you made it this far!

Dangerous Noise

We were sitting outside, cooling off in the shade after taking a walk in the heat and humidity of an Alabama June day.

The RocketMan was talking about his work.  If you aren't aware, I'm a Philosophy major married to a Mechanical Engineer.  He builds space flight hardware. A lot of the talk about his work goes way over my head.  Newton's second law and The Tsiolkovsky rocket equation and such are formulas

I am aware of, but not things I use in my daily life.
He, however, does.
Use them in his daily life.
 I think.

 So as he talks about technical things, I often find myself blinking, smiling, nodding, and desperately trying to pick up on one piece of the information he is sharing so I can ask an intelligent question.  

He, in turn, gets a pained expression on his face if I talk about Aristotle, Kierkegaard, or Hegel.
So we're really a matched pair.
And for the record, I seldom talk about Aristotle, Kierkegaard, or Hegel anymore.
But there was a time when I did and he was a good sport and he listened,
even though he said it hurt his head.
I feel your pain, there, RocketMan!

As I was saying,  he was talking about his project and something he said hit me like a bolt of lightning.  He was talking about his space flight hardware and said,  

The noise can be thought of as high frequency energy. 

It can cause a great deal of damage.

Wait, what?
Of course, he was talking about one thing but what he said caused me to take notice and consider noise and acoustics in a different way.  

I have a remedial understanding of the physics involved in sound and noise.  Noise is generally considered to be unpleasant sound. Both sound and noise are transmitted by vibrations through the air, but sound is much preferable to noise when it is processed in our brain.  I think I have that right.  

Friends, I don't have to tell you we are living in troublesome times.
Politics
Pandemic
Economics
Social Unrest

All you have to do is turn on the TV,
check the news on your computer,
take a look at any number of social media outlets.
Or try to have a conversation with someone.

Evidence of this turmoil is everywhere you go.
People on the street corners with signs
Masks
Angrily hurled epitaphs
People out of work
Name calling
Businesses closed
Mobs destroying everything in sight
Fists raised
Grand gestures
Everyone has feelings...myriad feelings
And those feelings are mighty noisy

The world seems to be spinning out of control.
And the vibrations of this spinning is creating such noise as I have never experienced.
It is damaging and ripping the very fabric of our everyday lives.

The noise in my head and heart caused by the vibrations of hate and discontent in the world is nearly unbearable.  So many feelings abound and so much rhetoric surrounds us.
It is deafening. No matter what the hot topic of the day, there is the accompanying noise.

Ever present
Eardrum pounding
Glass shattering
Heart breaking
High frequency
Damaging
Noise

When the RocketMan told me noise energy damages the hardware,
he also explained that they were taking precautions.
They are moderating, absorbing, and dampening the noise to protect the hardware.

So, too, must I moderate the noise around me to protect my head and my heart.
By limiting time watching the news
By stepping away from social media
By choosing my words carefully
By showing love to all I meet
By standing firm on the Rock of Ages
By starting and ending my day in prayer and conversation with The Father,
and having conversation with Him throughout the day
By knowing the most important conversation I have is with Him

and by dwelling here;

Finally, brethren, 
whatever is true,
whatever is honorable,
whatever is right,
whatever is pure, 
whatever is lovely, 
whatever is of good repute,
if there is any excellence and if anything worthy of praise,
dwell on these things.
 Philippians 4:8 nasb

I'm striving daily to spend more time dwelling on those things that are true, honorable, right, pure, lovely, and of good repute. That is the best way I have found to moderate the noise of the world around me.

~mollianne

Hey there! Its me again.

I am amazed.  

Simply amazed.  

This old blog is still here and I remembered the password to get to it!

Who'd have thunk it?

So much has happened since I last posted more than a few years ago.  

My sweet Daddy lost his fight with Parkinson's Disease.

We have opened our home to share with asylum seekers from another country.

RocketMan retired

but he didn't really retire...

he went right back to work the next day at the same desk, 

doing the same job.  

Don't ask.  

I'm confused, too.

I retired.

We went to France and Spain to walk 500 miles on the Camino de Santiago.

We walked over the Pyrenees mountains.

We walked over 100 miles in 10 days, 

but had to stop when I fell 

and dislocated my shoulder and tore my bicep.  

Getting out of the shower can be dangerous business.

I've had several surgeries, including rotator cuff and bicep repair (see the above statement).

We've crossed the threshold of a whole new decade and are proudly part of the 60+ crowd.

Which, unfortunately, comes with a whole new set of aches and ailments.

Lots of stuff has happened, I tell you.

Then...along comes 2020.  

The year that looked at all of us, 

laughed and said, 

"Hold my beer!"

Can you believe it all?  

It seems surreal, like a Salvador Dali painting.

The clock is melting off the table.

I feel like we are collectively wondering what could possibly be next? 

I know I am.

I'm finding comfort and strength in simple things.  

Taking a walk

 Playing with my dog

Reading a book 

Prayer and meditation  

Potting flowers for the patio 

Special time with my dear Mother 

Conversations with friends 

Very quiet evenings with the RocketMan

Baking bread

Dreaming

I've even taken up the Ukulele again! 

I read something in a newsletter once that goes something like this:

If we attend to the small things, God will take care of the larger things.  

Surely God is in the small and the large. 

What I took away from that was to trust God 

with the things I most certainly can't control.  

Pandemic 

Quarantine 

Violence

Economics 

Riots 

Elections 

A world gone mad

A world in need of a Savior 

What I can control is this 

...my attitude.

I may start working out my thoughts and recording my observations here again.  

It was such a comfortable spot for me to write. 

A place to check my attitude.

To concentrate on my blessings, which are myriad.

A place to note the beauty and good things that I see around me daily.

I'm clinging to hope and the familiar, especially in scripture.
I hope you are, as well.

Finally, brethren, whatever is true,

whatever is honorable, whatever is right,

whatever is pure, whatever is lovelocks,

whatever is of good repute, if there is any

excellence and if anything worthy of praise,

dwell on these things.

Philippians 4:8 nasb


~mollianne

A letter to Emily Freeman because #itssimplytuesday

Dear Emily,
I wish I could say, "My dear friend, Emily" but alas, I'm just a lurker in your virtual world and couldn't really say that we are friends.  I read your blog and your books and am just over the moon about your Tuesday Instagram Tag #itssimplytuesday

Anyway, I'd like to tell you about my #itssimplytuesday.  So far, because its only 2:22 p.m. CST.
Quite frankly, there's lots of Tuesday left and I'd be foolish to think absolutely nothing else goofy will #simply happen before I lay my head on my pillow and close my eyes, blowing kisses to Tuesday till next week.

I woke up. Late. Because I didn't set my alarm.  Correction.  I set my alarm...I didn't turn it on. I've circled the sun almost 58 times and occasionally that turning-it-on-thing bites me in the behind. Gotta remember to do that!

Quite frankly, waking up {late} and scrambling for mirror time and the other necessary things that must be accomplished before I could walk out of the house sent my attitude a little south of grumpy. I had to hurry because I'd left my car at work last night and ridden home with my husband, so I had to be ready to leave when he was ready. And of course, the night I didn't turn my alarm on... he didn't even set his.  We're a matched pair, we two.

I stomped  walked out of the house and looked up to dreary grey skies and harrumphed  sighed the sort of deep sigh that one learns to sigh as an asthmatic child/young adult.  I walked stomped (who am I kidding?) toward the car and then I saw it.  This little beauty I sighed again, this time just to slow down and breathe deeply and exhale a prayer of gratitude.  I began to think my day might be salvageable.

Dropping me off at the door to the church where I work, my Rocket Man sent me off with some pretty serous smooching before I got out of the car {because he's sweet like that in the mornings, especially since he knows I like smooching}. I ran up the stairs, checked my email, finished putting on my makeup, returned a call and made my list of things that must be done today before dashing back out down the stairs.

You see, my Mother in Law is undergoing radiation therapy for breast cancer.  She takes her treatment at the hospital across the street from the church where I work.  I walk across and meet her there to sit with her while she waits and make sure she's okay.  To do that, I have to cross a busy street, which seems to cause all sorts of concern by lots of people although I'm perfectly capable of crossing the street.  Been doing it for about 50 years all.by.my.self. I am careful to look both ways and am quite willing to wait patiently until it is safe to cross. {I think squished on the road wouldn't be my best look}.  Besides all that, look what is between my work and the hospital.

Yep. Panera Bread. Worth crossing a busy street for, don't you think?  I checked my watch and felt I had plenty of time to get a cup of hot tea and a pecan cinnamon braid. Because...well, no breakfast.  I bought one for Mrs. Massey, too.  She needs the calories while she's doing radiation, you know.

So, I made it to the Center for Cancer Care, settled in and chatted up the peeps in the waiting room. There's Ms. Doris who has bladder cancer.  And BJ,  her caregiver. Then my Mother in Law and Jay the technician.  I made sure everyone saw the picture of the amazing little daffodil who so bravely fought her way up through cold earth and about a foot of pine straw.

While Mrs. Massey had her radiation, I sat an enjoyed my tea and this lovely spot.  It really is nice to sit there. {I pretend I'm waiting somewhere in Italy}  It is nice any day, but today especially, because #itssimplytuesday.

On my way back to the church, I saw some birds having a tiff and I'm pretty sure I heard some major bird cussing.  I saw looked up as I walked under this tree and caught the lovely pattern of branches against the sky.  Because #itssimplytuesday!

I crossed the busy street, patiently waiting because of the whole squished-Molli-on-the-pavement thing. Every day, when I safely make it across the street and am back into safe territory, I look for some trash to pick up and bring in.  Because there's always something on the grounds that isn't supposed to be there.  Here's what I found today!

What?  Ewwww! It was empty, capped and says insulin on the side.  I was wearing gloves.  I safely disposed of it, peeled off my gloves and put them in a ziplock bag and washed my hands {about 3 times}.  I'm by no means a clean freak, but I think I'll wash my little stretchy gloves.  In hot water. Twice. With bleach. Because, you know...#itssimplytuesday.

I settled back into my desk until a sweet little lady and her son came to plan her husband's funeral on Saturday. Planing funerals is one of the things I do here at the church house. What an honor to help them plan a service for this WWII vet. A man who was a low turret gunner on a B-24. And survived the war. Came home and got a degree in engineering from Vanderbilt with his GI Bill and eventually worked on the team that developed the Saturn Booster system...enabling us to send men to the moon. Married to a precious woman for 70 years.  A man who taught Sunday School and loved "Whispering Hope" best of all the songs he knew.

When they left, I called to check on my mother who has been ill.  I told her I'd like to come check on her during lunch. And about the time I was ready to walk out the door, my phone rang and it was the Rocket Man asking me to meet him.  So I ditched my mother {she understood} and drove to meet this precious man Because #itssimplytuesday and #becauseheasked.

{More smooching in a parking lot after lunch} After all, #itssimplytuesday!

I ran into TJMAxx because #itssimplytuesday and #itsonthewayback.

Got into the church house and really, really had to use the restroom. Sweet tea at lunch will do that to you.  I was in the ladies room and reached around to unzip the invisible zipper on my black pants and...

Remember the scene from "A Christmas Story" where the tongue is applied to the flag pole?  And Flick begins saying in panic and ends screaming in agony. "Stuck.  Stuck.  STUCK!"

Yep!  THAT would be the invisible zipper on my pants.  Stuck.  I ran down the hall to get help.  My work BFF, who is constantly getting me out of all sorts of jams, ended up cutting me out of my pants.  Because...well, ice tea.  And I had to go.

Thank goodness my pants have a button at the top of the {broken} zipper and my sweater is long enough to cover the gaping gap in my britches where my zipper ought to be holding them shut.

And with that.  Because I've lived about 3 lifetimes since the alarm didn't go off and because who knows what else could happen and because #itssimplytuesday...I'm going home.  After I check on my mother.

If you WERE my friend, rather than someone I lurk around on the internet, I'd call you and we'd probably laugh till we cried.  Especially if I went into detail about Dee Ann trying to get my out of my pants before I wet them.  That was sort of a Laurel and Hardy moment.  Really funny.

Since I can't, I'm going to let this little letter fill you in.

Because...#itssimplytuesday.

You {lurking} almost-friend,
Mollianne

Sunday Praise-I was Glad

 

I am glad, very glad to have been in the house of the Lord today!

 

~Mollianne



Photo Friday-River Time

I'm linking up with Diane Bailey today for Photo Friday.

Last Saturday, we {okay, I kind of decreed we were going to go} decided to throw responsibility to the wind and go on an adventure.  I had one goal...to go where the water was running and the rocks were big! In my neck of the woods, the first place that comes to mind is Little River Canyon.  One of my favorite spots on God's green earth, it acts as a balm to my soul.

 

I spent many, many afternoons happily stomping in creeks as a child. I love to have my feet in running water.  Doesn't have to be swift, although I like that.  I especially love to sit on a big, warm rock and watch the water flow over my feet. The carefree feeling evoked isn't replicated anywhere else in my life.  If fact, given the choice...I think I'd choose time at a shallow river or a good creek bed over the beach. {Gasp!! I know I'm in the minority}

 

Anyway, I threw bathing suits and sunscreen in a bag, grabbed some towels and off we went! Little River Canyon is about an hour and a half drive from our house and we were pretty quiet as we rode. It was as pleasant as could be.  Just the two of us and the radio, headed toward the Canyon.

 

 

It was obviously the choice of many people on Saturday and quite crowded.  But we managed to find a spot and chill out for about two hours. Delightful.

 

 

We watched children splashing and letting the current sweep them down the rocks smoothed by centuries of rushing water. 

Some folks brought their dogs and we loved watching them get in the water.

 

 

 

 

We saw fish and snakes {yuck!} and I spent a long time watching butterflies and bees feast on a flowering bush.

 

 

 

 

 

The song of the current and the warmth of the sun combined with the gentle kiss of a breeze made the event like a glimpse of heaven to me. 

 

 

 

Yep!  A little glimpse of heaven on earth.

 

I'll be thinking of our afternoon on the river tomorrow when

I'm doing the laundry and cleaning the house.

And remembering to be thankful for the time away last week.

 

~Mollianne