Depressed

 

I’m depressed.

Actually, I was depressed — and sad.

I know! I know! I seem pretty happy to you and I am pretty happy most of the time.

“What’s going on?” you ask.

Yesterday, Saturday, is usually the day I sit down to start writing my letter blog. But yesterday wasn’t usual. It was Joanie’s funeral. My best girl. She left us on July 27th to begin her walk into eternity with our Lord and Redeemer, Jesus Christ.

And make no mistake — Joan was a strong Christian! Her faith wasn’t just something she talked about, it was something she lived. Even as cancer took its toll on her body, her belief never wavered. If anything, it grew stronger. She faced death the same way she faced life, with grace, courage, and an unwavering trust in God.

Debbie, Joan’s sister-in-law, gave the most beautiful eulogy. She rose from her seat and walked slowly to the microphone, each step measured, as if carrying the weight of every tear in the room. She stood before a packed house, where grief hung heavy in the air—faces streaked with tears, the sound of open sobbing rising like a tide of deep, aching love. Her fingers trembled as she reached for the microphone, but her voice, when it came, carried the strength of someone who loved deeply and dared to speak through sorrow.

 I’ve known Joan for over 40 years. She has been one of my closest friends and my sister. So when she started talking about her passing soon and her funeral, I didn’t want to hear it. I would say, “God is still in control. He still has the power to heal you if it’s His will!”

She would just keep talking and saying, “I don’t want any crying! I want rejoicing and uplifting songs! I want it to be a celebration! I’m going home! I’m gonnna be with Jesus!”

So, after she repeated this a few times I told her, “I’M GOING TO CRY! You can’t tell me not to cry!” Then I cried and promised her I would rejoice through my tears. Because I am happy Joan is HOME with JESUS! But I am absolutely heartbroken my Joan Louise is gone from my life — and I miss her!

Joan held my hand and said, “I know it’s gonna be hard for all of you, but rejoice for me!”

I am going to try to honor Joan Louise today by doing my best to tell you what she asked and to give God the glory. I could tell you lots of stories and memories and shenanigans about her but that’s not what she asked me to do. Joan wants me to tell you about her God! So I’m going to do my best to tell you about Him.

I have already prayed and asked others to pray for God to open hearts and ears to this but also to make sense of what I say. Because, honestly, I am not good at standing up here in front of people, talking.

Joan said, “I need you to do this! Just speak from your heart and God will do the rest!”

Joan didn’t hide her light under a bushel basket. If you knew her, you knew she loved God. She said, “I want everyone to know IT’S A PERSONAL RELATIONSHIP WITH JESUS CHRIST OUR SAVIOR! To have that personal relationship you need to be in His Word daily. I want my Bibles there, at my funeral. I have seven and I want everyone to see them. Tell them I had them in different places and rooms so I had it available always. Tell them to know God you have to be in His Word so He can speak to you — to your heart! Tell them through His Word He guides us. He gives us peace as only God can. Tell them it’s not just going to church every Sunday and it’s not just saying a prayer for forgiveness to get to heaven. It shouldn’t stop there! It needs to be a daily relationship with God, in His Word to grow and witness to others along the way.”

In the hospital, Joan’s Bible was always in plain sight. We read it to her because she couldn’t. When anyone came into her room and asked if she needed anything, she would ask them if they knew Jesus Christ as their Savior because she wanted to see them again in heaven. People knew she loved God.

People came and prayed with her, read her verse from the Bible and sang hymns to her.

Joan knew her time was very near and she had a peace that only God can give. She knew she would soon enter his gates with thanksgiving and into His courts with praise because she was a child of God!

That was Joan’s favorite hymn.

♫I will enter His gates with thanksgiving in my heart; I will enter His courts with praise. I will say, “This is the day that the Lord has made!” I will rejoice for He has made me glad. He has made me glad, He has made me glad. I will rejoice for He has made me glad.♪♫

So her message to each of you today is ask Jesus for forgiveness for your sins and accept Jesus Christ as your Savior and grow a personal relationship with Him. 

Joanie wasn’t just a lady I saw once a week at church; we spoke every day through my morning love notes. She was dearly loved and is deeply missed. 

Besides Joanie’s funeral, I had another reason to be sad.

“Why’s that?” you wanna know.

We had a possum get hit on the road in front of our house. I saw it in the early afternoon when we went to get the mail. A few hours later, a thought surfaced from the recesses of my mind. I’d read somewhere that if you ever come across a dead possum, you should check its pouch because possums can carry babies year-round.

I walked down and found babies scattered all around. Some were beside the road and some had gone in the other direction into the leaf litter. I picked up seven cold, crying, babies that still had their eyes closed. Joeys. I found a passel of joeys. I knew I had to get them warm and hydrated so I made a pouch with my shirt front and carried them home.

“I’ve got seven babies!” I told Miss Rosie.

“Considering how little they are, I won’t be surprised if they die,” she said.

The first mistake I made was warming a little milk and using a dropper to get them to drink. I wasn’t having any luck and decided maybe it would be a good idea to Google it.

“Don’t give them cow’s milk, it could be fatal.”

Okay then. What do I give them?

“Mix one-fourth teaspoon salt and one-teaspoon sugar into one cup warm water.”

So that’s what I did.

But from the get-go, one of the joeys was too far gone and never came around. In the next hour, two more died. But the last four looked like they were getting stronger and squirmier.

“To keep them warm, use a heating pad on low heat.”

I did that, but in the night, two more joeys died.

I went to the feed store and bought some kitten milk replacement.

The lady at the feed store said, “Don’t say it too loud, you’re not supposed to do that.” Meaning, I’m not supposed to try and save the lives of orphaned baby possums.

“What are you supposed to do? Leave them to die?” you ask.

I guess that is one option and that’s the thing most people do. They see possums as pests but not me. I actually have a kind of love for these poor misunderstood creatures. They’re nature’s cleanup crew, eating dead things, even the bones! Every night they can eat up to 2,000 ticks along with other bugs that carry diseases. They control snakes, even venomous ones. They can survive dozens of rattlesnake or coral snake bites and even eat the snakes. And they do NOT carry the rabies virus.

I wasn't going to make them pets, just get them big enough to fend for themselves.

What you’re supposed to do is contact the Pocono Wildlife Center or another rehab center. I decided that I needed to obey the laws and I would call them. Unfortunately, even doing everything right, the last two died the next day.

And I was sad and depressed and blame myself. If I’d’ve gotten them to the experts sooner, maybe they would’ve lived. Consequently, I didn’t feel much like writing yesterday.

“Peg. It’s OK to feel sad,” my beautiful little sister told me. “As I tell Rachel (her daughter) it’s OK to mourn, but for no more than three days when I die! Then it’s time to buck up and move on. This doesn’t go over any better than a room full of balloons and a porcupine.

Every day is a new day.

A new chance.

We will leave the mistakes and sadness of yesterday there and move on.

So today I will visit with you and show you the pictures from my week. 

A squirrel!

There’s nothing remarkable about a squirrel expect that, for living in the country, and having bird feeders out, I seldom see squirrels and never in my backyard. That is, until this week.

I’d gotten up and gone to the sink to draw water for my second cup of morning joe when I glanced out the window and there he was! Sitting on the kitchen patio calmly munching on the seeds the birds had scattered.

As soon as Raini hears me heading for the kitchen door, she comes charging out, nearly knocking me over in her rush to get outside. I had to be quick and quiet to get the pet door locked before she realized what I was up to. She missed it by a few seconds.

She stood at the glass, ears perked, eyes locked on the squirrel outside. Still and alert, she watched, completely focused, like the world had narrowed to that one little visitor. She whined, wanting to get out and chase it, but I ignored her.

I don’t know how long the squirrel stayed but the next time I looked, he was gone.

Speaking of Raini...

I woke up around 2:30 in the morning to the sound of crunching. I thought Raini had found a forgotten dog biscuit and was having a midnight snack.

Crunch, crunch, crunch, followed by lip-smack and I thought that was it.

It wasn’t.

Crunch, crunch, crunch, and I thought she was done for sure.

She wasn’t.

Crunch, crunch, crunch.

And I thought, that dog biscuit wasn’t that big!

I reached overhead and fumbled around on the headboard shelf until I found the little flashlight I kept there. I turned it on and there Raini sat. In the middle of the bedroom floor with half a furry critter lying at her feet. For one heart-stopping second, I thought she had one of the joeys. The cat must’ve gotten it out of its box because Raini couldn’t get on the counter. But no. It wasn’t a joey. It was a fat little, plump little, back half of a field mouse. Sitting on a nearby chair was Spitfire, grinning like the Cheshire Cat. He brought it in and gave it to Raini or she took it from him.

It probably wouldn’t hurt her if I’d’ve let her finish it, but the last thing I needed to hear when I’m going to sleep is the crunching of bones. I got out of bed, took it by its tail, and wearing nothing but my sleep shorts, carried it out and tossed it over the fence. The partial nudity of one fat old lady likely wouldn’t thrill anybody, but since we live out in the middle of nowhere, no one saw me.

I planted a climbing vine against my fence two years ago. This year I got my first flower. I thought I’d planted Mandevilla but this is a Clematis flower. 

I’ve added some new things to the canvas of the mill wall. A big window, a carriage light (that isn’t powered, but could be), and two wall sconces. It makes it more of  a challenge to bounce the ball off the side of the house for Raini.

I’ve been making tin can flowers again. Here are four that I’ve finished and hung on the fence in the front of the house so you see them when you drive in.

This week I sat on the patio and made a bunch more. I only have space to hang about eight pieces when I spray paint them but the humidity was too high this week for me to paint any more. So I’ve been making and stacking them on the patio table.

So many flowers!

A butterfly fluttered in and circled around as if to say, “Here I am! Take my picture!”

He posed quite nicely for me.

This is a Red-spotted Purple butterfly.

          We went out this week. We went to Dushore to pay our taxes. While there we had lunch at the Westside Deli. Mike likes the bacon cheeseburger and I like the Westside Cheesesteak. I took road pictures for you.

          Crossing our bridge, I spot a buck standing in the weeds.

          They were clearing ditches and we were stopped in front of a house that burned several years ago.

          Nature reclaims.

          This house and garage were damaged in the big flood several years ago.

          After lunch we drove up to the graveyard. I noticed a tree growing from the chimney of the old school.

Our little town is getting a Tractor Supply!

Mike’s buddy Lou and his partner are working really hard on Charlie’s old house. They completely gutted the inside, put new floor joists in, new floors, new walls, new half-bath. Tore the old tin roof off and shingled it.

Lou is tearing out old bushes that have been allowed to overgrow for years. He took down dead trees and trimmed the ones he’s going to keep. He tore out an old fence and was going to trash it, until I asked for it.

“You’re welcome to have it!” Lou said. “It saves me from having to trash it.”

I don’t know yet what I’m going to do with it, but I’ll do something with it.

Let’s call this one done!