Ramblings.....

I painted our bathroom today! Have you ever wondered, if you were to strip your walls, just how many colors you would find down under there?  In some of the rooms in this house, you would only find sheetrock, in others, there would be an array of colors under the one currently holding the wall up.  I find it strangely relaxing to paint and I am horribly messy, drippy, splashy, splotchy and all of that...I am so glad I have tile and wood on my floors because all I ever do with a drop cloth is trip over it!  I painted the bathroom a color called Rainy Skies, which my pals at Sherwin Williams mixed up for me and I love it!  A very warm blue gray color.  I was, I admit, a bit worried about how it would make my makeup look in there but after I got the paint on the walls, I quit worrying.  I even installed a floating shelf, only having to drill two holes for each one I needed to find the studs and get the screws in the right spot!  It looks pretty awesome.  I was thinking about the first time I painted the bathroom as I worked in there today.  I can't remember the year but it was a long time ago.  I honestly don't remember what made me paint it the day that I did but it was a horrible day.  I had gone to lunch with Dene and we were on our way home from Yachats when my cell phone rang.  I can't remember who it was, probably John, but I remember him telling me that our good friend Mark Smallwood had just been killed from a tragic accident.  I stopped the car on the side of the road and burst into tears.  I dropped Dene off and went up to the hospital to find Tandi, Marks wife, and see if she needed anything.  I have been friends with her since we were in high school and although, as teens we went to different schools, we hit it off and became friends.  I came home and for lack of anything better to do, I painted my bathroom and the entire time I painted that room that night I cried, and cried and cried.  I could NOT believe Mark was gone.  What a loss.  From then on I would walk into that bathroom and almost every time I would remember that day.  It didn't take me long, a year maybe, to paint it and since I didn't know what I wanted, I painted it white.  I finally, today, covered that up and started over! I saw little bits of yellow here and there that would remind me.   I don't have much left to do now, just some trim stuff and the door, front and back. I want to cover that final bit of yellow that is left over and then it will be gone.  I won't miss it at all.

I heard the song below awhile back and just loved it, it so describes what I was feeling when Connie, Penny and I stopped at the house on Filer Ave. in Twin Falls last year.  I so wanted to walk around inside that house and see myself as a child. I have come to realize over the past year and some that the little girl in me is still so broken and so in need of healing.  I am grateful that the Lord won't leave me broken! Just when I somehow get really delusional and think I've "arrived" and am healed, the Lord uncovers something else for me to see and to work on.  As I have watched my sister Connie and her husband Jim dealing with Jims mom, Joyce's care and the reality of the loss of her, I wonder about dad and how his last days were. I wonder if I will ever stop wishing I could have been there for him, holding his hand as he joined the Lord?  I know that the rawness I feel on those unguarded moments are not wasted on the Lord and He knows my heart and understands me but on so many more days than not I find myself wishing I'd have done what I so wanted to do and found a way there.  I know that in reality, it wasn't the best time to go, horrible storms were streaking across Nebraska, but I so so so desperately wanted to be there with him.  I so wanted to be in the room with him one last time and I am comforted somewhat by knowing that Jesus was with him every single step of the way.  I think its all part of the grieving process and the loss of him continues to shape my daily life. The other day I was listening to some music while cleaning and a song came on about a daddy and his little girl dancing at her wedding and I thought to myself...Oh my goodness, I never even had a father daughter dance! I never even had music!  It was the strangest feeling as I stood there, processing that old feeling of loss that not having my dad at any of my most important events.  I found myself feeling so grateful for Kaylee that she has had a daddy who has been there for her, has held her hand, kissed away her tears, taken her on dates, talked her off the ledge and been what a daddy is supposed to be to a little girl, a knight in shining armor and then, a friend. I also was reminded how the Lord showed me that HE was there for me when I had my tonsils out, cut my arm open, lost a pet, lost a boyfriend, had a fight with my mom, Prom night, graduation,  at my wedding, at the birth of all of our children, and so on and so on.  I was given a gift from the Lord that sustains me still (nope, not gonna be all spiritual here and say my salvation or anything like that).  I had almost 9 years with my dad. I have memories of putting curlers in his hair, wrestling on the floor, hearing him laugh and scratch his head, looking at his beloved hands, of him running outside in his underwear to chase away the teenagers that had come to our house in the middle of the night (we were sleeping outside), learning how to fish, falling asleep in his long haul truck, breaking a key in the lock of the clock that kept track of his driving time, sleeping feet to feet in his sleeper on a long haul trip, eating at the Depoe Grill (biggest meal he ever saw me eat) and I have my final memories that mean so much.  Reading the bible to him as he lay in his hospital bed and choking back tears while trying to see the words on the page,  washing his soiled hands, kissing his head as he slept,  and finally, saying goodbye, knowing he didn't want us to leave but we had to, and all of us, crying and holding each other as we walked down the hall of that nursing home one last time.

I don't know why I decided to write about dad again in one of my blogs.  I guess I wanted to write down what I was thinking.  I apologize if I've become redundant...the good thing is, you can choose not to read my endless ramblings if you don't want to! haha!  Thanks for listening though.


You can find this song on Youtube if you want to listen to it....


The House That Built Me....
Miranda Lambert


I know they say you can’t go home again
I just had to come back one last time
Ma’am I know you don’t know me from Adam
But these handprints on the front steps are mine

Up those stairs in that little back bedroom
Is where I did my homework and I learned to play guitar
I bet you didn’t know under that live oak
My favorite dog is buried in the yard

I thought if I could touch this place or feeling
This brokenness inside me might start healing
Out here it’s like I’m someone else
I thought that maybe I could find myself
If I could walk around I swear I’ll leave
Won’t take nothing but a memory
From the house that built me

Mama cut out pictures of houses for years
From Better Homes and Gardens magazine
Plans were drawn and concrete poured
Nail by nail and board by board
Daddy gave life to mama’s dream

I thought if I could touch this place or feeling
This brokenness inside me might start healing
Out here it’s like I’m someone else
I thought that maybe I could find myself
If I could walk around in I swear I’ll leave
Won’t take nothing but a memory
From the house that built me

You leave home and you move on and you do the best you can
I got lost in this old world and forgot who I am

I thought if I could touch this place or feeling
This brokenness inside me might start healing
Out here it’s like I’m someone else
I thought that maybe I could find myself
If I walk around I swear I’ll leave
Won’t take nothing but a memory
From the house that built me