Recently we put our home on the market. Over the years we have moved a lot, particularly in the earlier years of our marriage. But, those moves happened during the years we were looking ahead to accommodating a growing family, a job change in another city, and a couple times simply because we could. We have also renovated some vacation or investment properties over the years, so the process isn't foreign to us.
But, this time is different. This time we are 'downsizing'. Yuk! The process was mentally and physically challenging from the onset. The reality of what we were getting ourselves into began when our Realtor insisted that we do CPR (clean, purge, repair) on the house as part of staging it. It is the 'purge' part we have had the difficulty with.
Purge: is such a harsh word to process while putting away a lifetime of family pictures, collectibles, gifts, and other personal mementos that journal our life as a couple and family. The word "Purge" means "to purify" but I call it "sterilize". And, as I wrap and pack away each item I wonder when/if I will see it again, and that was because in the purging process we came upon a couple of boxes that got buried in our basement that were mementos from our last move, hidden and forgotten. And, as we purge, with each item we tuck away the house is less 'ours'. And, in its own paradoxical way, it is making the process of leaving easier.
This time our decision to move was deliberate and designed to accommodate a different season of our lives. The kids are grown, some have moved away, they have busy families, and we are back to being a couple.
It has taken us awhile to adjust to the thought of less being more for us. We are still struggling with how to downsize much of our 'stuff' - no longer as much from our attachment to it as the time and effort involved in getting rid of it. But, I believe we are ready. And, after years of acquiring the many things we no longer need, what is of greatest value are the priceless objects, such as the small hand prints our kids pressed into clay in preschool, and other things that have reminded us of how fast the years speed by and how important it is to seize the days we have left. Isn't it amazing how long it takes us to fully learn that lesson?
So, I think what I'm saying is, "Less, indeed, is more."
Friday, February 15, 2013
Sunday, February 10, 2013
Fran Riedemann Books: An unintended sabbatical.
Fran Riedemann Books: An unintended sabbatical.: Four weeks ago began as a normal day. My husband brought me coffee in bed and then took our two Dachshunds, Larry and Lucy, outside, proceed...
An unintended sabbatical.
Four weeks ago began as a normal day. My husband brought me coffee in bed and then took our two Dachshunds, Larry and Lucy, outside, after which he proceeded to get ready for work, kissed me good-bye and left. The dogs got back in bed with me after their breakfast and burrowed down under the blankets, as Doxie's do, while I got up and got ready for the day.
It was eleven o'clock that Monday morning when I noticed Lucy standing by our back door, wild-eyed and appearing to be choking. By the time I got to her and picked her up I realized she wasn't breathing. She was gone in less than three minutes.
Four weeks later my stomach still clinches and I tear up when I think of those last moments and my complete inability to help her. So, this is my belated "Ode to Lucy".
She was a long-haired Dachshund, black and tan, and only eight years old when we lost her. When she became part of our family we already had a short-haired black & tan at home named Bob. Ken and I had tickets to a charity auction that was being held a few weeks before Christmas. The minute we arrived at the event we noticed someone walking around the ballroom with a ten week old Doxie puppy, appropriately wrapped in a big red chenille blanket dressed in a red sweater, making sure everyone saw her. I overheard my husband, Ken, telling someone, "We have one like that at home and they are a wonderful pet. The last auction we were at one went for nine hundred dollars." That was a huge compliment to Bob because Ken has warmed up to our dogs slowly, finally allowing Bob to sleep with us. Of course, we petted and admired her, and I jokingly told him, "You'll be done with your Christmas shopping if you buy me that puppy."
Later, when the live auction was beginning, I took a seat with some women and Ken stood across the room with a group of men. When they brought Lucy out the woman next to me asked "Isn't that your husband bidding on the puppy?" I think I said, "Surely not." before turning to look. But, amazingly, there he was with his card in the air. The auctioneer announced, "Two fifty, do I hear two seventy five?" Someone else bid. "Three hundred, do I hear three hundred?" Ken's hand shot up again. "Three hundred, do I hear three fifty." He badgered the crowd for awhile more, but the bidding had stopped, probably due to everyone else at the auction having enough common sense to not want to train a puppy during the winter months.
Ken kept looking around the room, clearly wondering if anyone else was going to bid. But, the auctioneer called out, "SOLD to the man over there!", pointing at Ken. A moment later I was handed my new puppy who came with free vet visits for six months, a crate, and her red blanket. We drove home in semi-shock, neither of us given to that kind of spontaneity very often. I still believe Ken was trying to win points with me by bidding feeling pretty safe because he thought the bidding war would go to $900 like it did the last auction we attended. He could also be fairly confident that even I would not want to spend that much for a dog. So, we both got a surprise!
Lucy was the gift that went on giving. She was fluffy, with spaniel like ears and a sweet face, and without coaxing she would flounce and dance whenever she wanted attention. She loved her treats and she loved me. All she wanted in her Doxie life was to be as close to me as possible, thereby often becoming shut in our bedroom because she would sneak in after me and I wouldn't realize she was there, leaving her inside when I left the room and shut the door behind me.
I miss her.
I have tried to write this several times and couldn't get past the first paragraph. Two autumns ago we had to put down our Bob because of back problems and last August I was with my daughter when she put down her Doxie, Arthur. After Bob died we got a puppy , a black & tan we named Larry. We got him partly because we didn't want Lucy to be alone it was obvious she had withdrawn and was depressed. Poor little Larry has had the huge responsibility of helping me through this. I wonder how much worse it would be without this peppy and persistent buddy here with me who insists that I stop moping and give him attention.
Somehow it would be wrong to not eulogize our special girl. And, most of you will understand because you have had such a love, also. I have come out of my blue funk enough to not dwell on those last few minutes, but instead think about my twirling, dancing princess dog that was my best Christmas present ever. I thank God for the eight wonderful years she was ours.
It was eleven o'clock that Monday morning when I noticed Lucy standing by our back door, wild-eyed and appearing to be choking. By the time I got to her and picked her up I realized she wasn't breathing. She was gone in less than three minutes.
Four weeks later my stomach still clinches and I tear up when I think of those last moments and my complete inability to help her. So, this is my belated "Ode to Lucy".
She was a long-haired Dachshund, black and tan, and only eight years old when we lost her. When she became part of our family we already had a short-haired black & tan at home named Bob. Ken and I had tickets to a charity auction that was being held a few weeks before Christmas. The minute we arrived at the event we noticed someone walking around the ballroom with a ten week old Doxie puppy, appropriately wrapped in a big red chenille blanket dressed in a red sweater, making sure everyone saw her. I overheard my husband, Ken, telling someone, "We have one like that at home and they are a wonderful pet. The last auction we were at one went for nine hundred dollars." That was a huge compliment to Bob because Ken has warmed up to our dogs slowly, finally allowing Bob to sleep with us. Of course, we petted and admired her, and I jokingly told him, "You'll be done with your Christmas shopping if you buy me that puppy."
Later, when the live auction was beginning, I took a seat with some women and Ken stood across the room with a group of men. When they brought Lucy out the woman next to me asked "Isn't that your husband bidding on the puppy?" I think I said, "Surely not." before turning to look. But, amazingly, there he was with his card in the air. The auctioneer announced, "Two fifty, do I hear two seventy five?" Someone else bid. "Three hundred, do I hear three hundred?" Ken's hand shot up again. "Three hundred, do I hear three fifty." He badgered the crowd for awhile more, but the bidding had stopped, probably due to everyone else at the auction having enough common sense to not want to train a puppy during the winter months.
Ken kept looking around the room, clearly wondering if anyone else was going to bid. But, the auctioneer called out, "SOLD to the man over there!", pointing at Ken. A moment later I was handed my new puppy who came with free vet visits for six months, a crate, and her red blanket. We drove home in semi-shock, neither of us given to that kind of spontaneity very often. I still believe Ken was trying to win points with me by bidding feeling pretty safe because he thought the bidding war would go to $900 like it did the last auction we attended. He could also be fairly confident that even I would not want to spend that much for a dog. So, we both got a surprise!
Lucy was the gift that went on giving. She was fluffy, with spaniel like ears and a sweet face, and without coaxing she would flounce and dance whenever she wanted attention. She loved her treats and she loved me. All she wanted in her Doxie life was to be as close to me as possible, thereby often becoming shut in our bedroom because she would sneak in after me and I wouldn't realize she was there, leaving her inside when I left the room and shut the door behind me.
I miss her.
I have tried to write this several times and couldn't get past the first paragraph. Two autumns ago we had to put down our Bob because of back problems and last August I was with my daughter when she put down her Doxie, Arthur. After Bob died we got a puppy , a black & tan we named Larry. We got him partly because we didn't want Lucy to be alone it was obvious she had withdrawn and was depressed. Poor little Larry has had the huge responsibility of helping me through this. I wonder how much worse it would be without this peppy and persistent buddy here with me who insists that I stop moping and give him attention.
Somehow it would be wrong to not eulogize our special girl. And, most of you will understand because you have had such a love, also. I have come out of my blue funk enough to not dwell on those last few minutes, but instead think about my twirling, dancing princess dog that was my best Christmas present ever. I thank God for the eight wonderful years she was ours.
Friday, January 11, 2013
Some thoughts on my book IMPLOSION...Free today
My book IMPLOSION is written in the genre of the Left Behind books by Tim LaHaye and Jerry Jenkins, only put in today's timeline. By definition Implosion is "the deliberate undermining of the foundation of a structure causing it to cave inward". The headlines are coming to life before our eyes warning us of a long-planned and predicted ending. The characters are rich and the book is compelling. By the end of my writing I felt as if I was moving away from good friends, I so loved each of them. If you click on the images of the book they will take you to Amazon for the Kindle download - it is also available in paperback. An FYI if you don't own a Kindle...you do not have to own one to have a Kindle account. I read my Kindle downloads on my iPhone and my laptop.)
The book is current, prophetic, and a warning for Christ's Body to "be ready"...for anything. I have learned that writing something that smacks of prophetic is a bit like walking the plank, but it's too late now. And, each day, when I listen to the news, I am aware that the timeline of what we each consider freedom to be is changing.
You will both laugh and cry, be angry, inspired, edified, and provoked...hopefully, some of the time at the edge of your seat wondering what happens next.
My first editor sucked so I got a couple of deserved reviews for that, although I defend myself to those who ask me why I didn't catch it by saying that while I am a writer, God made editors for the likes of me who must have some form of grammatical dyslexia. And, there are a couple of people who were angry at the very deliberate weaving of the prophetic into the book My bio, synopsis, and the other reviews all praise the book for its message, so take that into account reading them (I have to wonder why they would read it based on that which nullify's their comments). I do not make any attempt to hide that I write Christian fiction.*
The best gift you can give any author is to review their book. And, if you are a member of Goodreads, please do it there, also.
Optimist that I am the bright side of the last election (for me) is that it gave IMPLOSION a longer shelf life. We are rapidly being herded and propelled toward a less free and more regulated future. Whatever belief system one holds, that is a certainty!
*Note disclaimer!
The book is current, prophetic, and a warning for Christ's Body to "be ready"...for anything. I have learned that writing something that smacks of prophetic is a bit like walking the plank, but it's too late now. And, each day, when I listen to the news, I am aware that the timeline of what we each consider freedom to be is changing.
You will both laugh and cry, be angry, inspired, edified, and provoked...hopefully, some of the time at the edge of your seat wondering what happens next.
My first editor sucked so I got a couple of deserved reviews for that, although I defend myself to those who ask me why I didn't catch it by saying that while I am a writer, God made editors for the likes of me who must have some form of grammatical dyslexia. And, there are a couple of people who were angry at the very deliberate weaving of the prophetic into the book My bio, synopsis, and the other reviews all praise the book for its message, so take that into account reading them (I have to wonder why they would read it based on that which nullify's their comments). I do not make any attempt to hide that I write Christian fiction.*
The best gift you can give any author is to review their book. And, if you are a member of Goodreads, please do it there, also.
Optimist that I am the bright side of the last election (for me) is that it gave IMPLOSION a longer shelf life. We are rapidly being herded and propelled toward a less free and more regulated future. Whatever belief system one holds, that is a certainty!
*Note disclaimer!
Wednesday, January 9, 2013
Less is more...
It is a week into the New Year. I breathe a sigh of relief; the Christmas decorations are stashed, I've accumulated a box of no longer treasured momentoes to be dropped off at a thrift store, my "Thank You" notes are written...Yes, I am feeling pretty good about myself and then I step on the scale in the bathroom. "Yikes!" I exclaim as I jump off and back away .
It happens every year (those pesky pounds), but it still manages to come as a shock when I see them displayed in black and white. "Drat!" I mutter, glancing at the mirror and hoping it isn't watching. There is no denying that "Lumpy" is bad when found in a bed, in gravy, or on a body.
Quickly I move away from the mirror, deciding I would rather converse with myself than have the mirror bring it up, having some time ago realized it is no longer my friend when it became rather bold in it's asserting it's negative opinions about me in our chance meetings.
There was a time, in past years, when I made a long list of my "Resolutions", but that turned into one more thing that ultimately mocked me, since I failed at most of them.
I do believe in goal setting, and have had some success's with accomplishing them. But, the yearly charting of goals at the New Year, for me, is like being assigned a ghostly taskmaster to follow me around, assuring me I will be making most of them again in a year - having been unfulfilled. And, I have to give him credit - he's been right in his predictions much of the time. Of course, he is simply stating the obvious; emotionally driven goals are doomed to futility, opposite of goals that are rational, decidedly manageable, and can be willed into being after disciplines are established that will make them possible to attain.
So, I begin this year with just three resolutions. One is to reach higher in my spiritual life. The second is to make each day count. And, the third is to grab hold of the ideas that come to me; that I believe are the essential part of what makes the human animal unique and very special to our Maker.
Somehow, in the simplicity of less being more, I feel pretty optimistic about attaining more of the goals that used to comprise my long lists. And, my "Amen" to attaining success is when I remember that one of the Holy Spirit's names is "Helper". How wonderful to not have to do it alone!
It happens every year (those pesky pounds), but it still manages to come as a shock when I see them displayed in black and white. "Drat!" I mutter, glancing at the mirror and hoping it isn't watching. There is no denying that "Lumpy" is bad when found in a bed, in gravy, or on a body.
Quickly I move away from the mirror, deciding I would rather converse with myself than have the mirror bring it up, having some time ago realized it is no longer my friend when it became rather bold in it's asserting it's negative opinions about me in our chance meetings.
There was a time, in past years, when I made a long list of my "Resolutions", but that turned into one more thing that ultimately mocked me, since I failed at most of them.
I do believe in goal setting, and have had some success's with accomplishing them. But, the yearly charting of goals at the New Year, for me, is like being assigned a ghostly taskmaster to follow me around, assuring me I will be making most of them again in a year - having been unfulfilled. And, I have to give him credit - he's been right in his predictions much of the time. Of course, he is simply stating the obvious; emotionally driven goals are doomed to futility, opposite of goals that are rational, decidedly manageable, and can be willed into being after disciplines are established that will make them possible to attain.
So, I begin this year with just three resolutions. One is to reach higher in my spiritual life. The second is to make each day count. And, the third is to grab hold of the ideas that come to me; that I believe are the essential part of what makes the human animal unique and very special to our Maker.
Somehow, in the simplicity of less being more, I feel pretty optimistic about attaining more of the goals that used to comprise my long lists. And, my "Amen" to attaining success is when I remember that one of the Holy Spirit's names is "Helper". How wonderful to not have to do it alone!
Wednesday, January 2, 2013
A 'Barak' New Year
It seems so shallow to use the prefaces"Happy" and "Merry" as greetings during what are, for many, one of the most difficult seasons of the year.
Our constitution defines "Happy" as "the pursuit of happiness". Happy, by definition, means to feel "pleasure or contentment" or to have "a sense of confidence and/or satisfaction with a person, arrangement, or situation". It's synonyms are to be "glad, fortunate, joyful, lucky, merry, cheerful" - a tall order for those who are barely making it, uncertain of their futures, and accosted by uncertainty. In truth, while meant well, such greetings are nothing more, and another casualty of our culture, "Merry Christmas" has become, for many, a test to see who will say it back.
The Amplified Bible defines the word "blessed" as "happy, fortunate, and to be envied". The Hebrew word for blessed is 'Barak'. Jeff Penner, in Ancient Hebrew Word Meanings" describes the verb barak as "to bless as seen in Genesis 12:2 but can also mean kneel as seen in Gensis 24:11. A related Hebrew word is 'berakah' meaning a blessing, or a gift or present. From this we can see the concrete meaning behind 'barak' in the sense of a blessing. It is to bring a gift to another while kneeling out of respect. The entended meaning of this word is to do or give something of value to value to another. God blesses us by providing for our needs and we in turn are to 'Bless' God by giving him of ourselves as his servants."
The word 'entitlement' has bobbed to the top of 'hot' words this year; and, if one is looking for it, the effects of what it refers to are everywhere. The fact is that, as believers, we are the recipients of Grace, offered without cost or recrimination - and we are certainly not entitled to it. If we take the meaning of "barakah" literally, we are essentially 'kneeling' before Him when we 'kneel' before another and offer them the gift of His grace that we received when it was offered to us.
True Christlike humility becomes, in a sense, our posture when offering eternity in Heaven to another; and truly should bring us to our knees when we recall that "While we were yet sinners, Christ died for us". I wish you a "Barak New Year"!
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