She was beautiful....

I have decided that this picture, of all pictures, shows me, what mom really looked like most of my life. As a child and young adult I really didn't spend time looking at her. I was self centered, I was growing up, I was going to be an artist. It's time you spend becoming someone. I don't think that I'm any different from anyone else. I'm human, and human is not always a complement.

In this picture I see a woman, that has given birth to nine children and lost one soon after birth. I see someone who should look tired and overworked. And yet here she is taking time with the youngest, me. I never had children, and in my late twenties, mom looked at me and ask if I was going to have children. I told her that I didn't think so. She said that if she was me, NOW...she wouldn't have had any.

This surprised me, she was a very good mother. Without a moment of silence, she stated something that made my heart beat fast. In soft words, and a warm smile, she stated that luckily God didn't know this and gave her not only beautiful children but the chance to make a difference. Oh my....what was I to say. So, as a good daughter, I just admired her.

I know at times that I made a mistake, also knowing if I would have had a child, God would have helped me to be as good a mother. Because she was my corner stone I could have made a difference also.

God Bless those who travel through my little world called Balsam Ponds By Design.

Carol

What is a crazy quilt?

This is also a post I did a year ago. But when I think of my crazy quilts I have left and how Mom loved us, the crazy quilt gives the most loving thoughts. I know that many of you don't know what a crazy quilt looks like. The picture below is how random each 12 x 12 block can look.

It's called a crazy quilt. Mom used these scraps of fabric left over from the clothes she sewed for us. With loving fingers she placed them on a 12"x 12" piece of white cotton which often came from a sheet that had served it purpose. From a box under the sewing table she would work her design from the colored scraps she had placed there bit by bit over the year. This was not a piece of artwork, rather a way to keep us warm over the long winter nights in Minnesota.

I never saw her do it, or ask her about the work it took to make one. She never ask for my opinion or require praise. I knew that I would be tucked into bed with one of those quilts. Gently placed over me and tucked in under the mattress. I would spend time before I fell asleep touching the fabric pieces and trying to figure out who I saw wear the outfit in which the bulk of the fabric was used.

I don't know why, but a quilt whether it was a crazy quilt or one of her patterned quilts, it always felt warmer than a blanket. I know that the love she put into the quilt often remained there waiting for me or someone to crawl under and feel her love. Now that she has gone home to her Father, I find myself realizing how secure it felt to have the quilt over me. But mostly how blessed I was to have HER as my mother.

Mothers are truly God sent.

Carol

The Work Begins

I try to come up with cards that others have not thought of. This is my latest, it's for a mom to be given by her parents. Enjoy the look. This truly has a lot of layers and love. Have a great weekend friends.

Friend, mother, daughters they all need to be praised.
Carol

It's Time to Let Go.

Thursday we took both vehicles into the Houston Ford to see what our trade in value of both would be for a 2010 Ford Taurus. As we waited, I watched one of the guys driving my Crown Vic out of the parking lot I felt a lump in my throat. What was this, I never saw myself as a person who was in love with the ride. A car was to get me to one place and back.

When John gave me this car I couldn't believe it, me getting this black beauty, me once the owner of a Ranger pickup now an owner of a Crown Vic. What was he thinking? Then I slid into the seat, I could live with this. Fit like a glove. But did I like it too much, what was this lump in my throat for?

I've had time to think it over it's not what the car means to me it is what it did for me. About a year later my mother took her final journey, one she feared the most, going to a nursing home. I made a commitment to go once a week and spend time with here.

She was two and a half hours away and so I would leave early in the morning, the process was the same, my trip started with Big and Rich, a funky country group that I always tried to sing along with. Followed by a soother CD that would take me into the nursing home.

The visit would be anywhere from a hour to four, you never knew because of the sadness she was experiencing, or how she felt. But the trip home was different. As I slipped into the seat and clipped the seat belt into place the first tear would start. Rolling down my cheek and resting on my chin. As I left town I was free to cry. Safe in my car, Cruise control set, radio off and left with only my thoughts from my visit, I cried till I couldn't cry anymore.

That's what it is, I have a bond with the car, it protected me at my saddest time. It comforted me with it's smooth ride, it comforting interior but mostly with the privacy I needed. Thursday when I slipped into the seat of the Taurus I prayed it would not have to comfort me but get me from one place and back. Just that and no more.

I feel good about letting go, it's time.

And the process begins...

Wow, after five years you tend to forget what it takes to move. It has been a week and a half since we found out we're moving. In that time we have called everyone from the dentist, vet, to the post office. The list of details is endless. I once wrote about what my mom used to say when I began to feel overwhelmed. Here it is again to share with my friends. She would say, "How do you eat an elephant?" with a smile on her face that melted my heart, she would finish with"one bite at a time".

I have lived by that phrase most of my life. I would repeat it to myself and than I would just start, after a while I would be done with the project and feel so accomplished. Of course this project of moving is a taed bigger. But it works even if you don't finish in one day. Every box feels that much closer to the end. I pack up as much in one box and move it to the garage. Waiting patiently for October and its date to move arrives.

Moving and grooving

The Right Words

A few years ago my mother died, she was 91 years old. While going through the few things she still owned, a prayer book appeared. I myself, believe in fate. I believe that things happen for a reason. I truly believe the prayer book was meant to be mine.

I remember my mom reading from it and when done she would place it back in her purse. I loved seeing it in her hands, for two reasons, my mothers hands were beautiful and almost perfect just like the words I am going to share with you.

Even if you have no belief I am sure the words will make you feel good. Words are powerful but when put together in a loving way they are even more powerful. This prayer book doesn't have the prayer printed in the pages but a prayer cut out of some mystery publication and lovingly put in the back of this prayer book.

I hope that you enjoy it my dear friends.

God never promised us skies always blue.

A flower-strewn pathway our whole lives thro

God never promised us sun without rain, joy

with sorrow, peace without pain.

But God has promised us strength for the day

rest for the laborer, light for our way.

Grace for our trials, help from above.

Unfailing sympathy, undying love.

I myself love this prayer and use it often. I love my mother for the little things she gave me. My belief in a here after, a little prayer that seems to give me what I need most these days, and God for giving me hope in human kind when there seems to be a lack of it.

God Bless those who follow me and those who wander through my little peace of heaven.

Carol

Pieces of Fabric Sewn Into Love

It's called a crazy quilt. Mom used these scraps of fabric left over from the clothes she sewed for us. With loving fingers she placed them on a 12"x 12" piece of white cotton which often came from a sheet that had served it purpose. From a box under the sewing table she would work her design from the colored scraps she had placed there bit by bit over the year. This was not a piece of artwork, rather a way to keep us warm over the long winter nights in Minnesota.

I never saw her do it, or ask her about the work it took to make one. She never ask for my opinion or require praise. I knew that I would be tucked into bed with one of those quilts. Gently placed over me and tucked in under the mattress. I would spend time before I fell asleep touching the fabric pieces and trying to figure out who I saw wear the outfit in which the bulk of the fabric was used.

I don't know why, but a quilt whether it was a crazy quilt or one of her patterned quilts, it always felt warmer than a blanket. I know that the love she put into the quilt often remained there waiting for me or someone to crawl under and feel her love. Now that she has gone home to her Father, I find myself realizing how secure it felt to have the quilt over me. But mostly how blessed I was to have HER as my mother.

Happy Mother's Day Mom.