Once Upon a Time, I lived in a Bubble

 

Once upon a time, I lived in a bubble. I faced whatever life handed me with confidence--due to a strong family support system and a bit of naivety. I thought my version of the world was everyone else's. Later, I discovered that friends and loved ones who I thought were "secure" had elephants in the living room, on the back steps, and out on their lawns--because shame is not shared. It's there; it exists; but, it is not shared.

As the years passed, I began to seek and understand the bigger pictures of relationship issues, abuse, financial stress, illness, and growing-older dilemmas. Friends and acquaintances, who hid things during their younger years, shared their stories. Was it because desperation set in? Were the repercussions of shame-based behaviors too much to handle alone? Was it because there was no where else to hide and no reason to do so anymore?

It has been said that everyone we meet in life, every experience we have, shape us into the person we become. This includes parents, siblings, spouse, friends, children, and those others we meet for short periods of our lives--some who we have connected with deeply and who leave forever imprints.

Maybe, what I didn't "get" before, I have a chance to get now. I mentioned to my fellow classmate, Lois, (reconnecting at a class reunion) that I felt a need to "make-new" --although I wasn't sure what I even meant. She replied, "I see your "make-new" as making better relationships from the incomplete scraps of the old ones. Maybe, polishing off the rust".

I like the phrases--incomplete scraps and polishing off the rust... Something incomplete can be completed, made new.

 Is not wisdom found among the aged?  Does not long life bring understanding? Job 12;12

Thank goodness, we have a Creator who understands all this and wants us to be connected. It's all a part of His great plan. It's all a part of being human.



In the same way, even though we are many individuals, Christ makes us one body and individuals who are connected to each other. Romans 12:5

The Word became flesh for the purpose of connecting....

What Does Your Name Mean?

Do you know the meaning of your name? You don't need to check out a book from the library--just google it.

What did we do before the internet?

Kathleen Emma

Kathleen means pure. Emma, my middle name, means whole. By the time, I enter the pearly gates and God wraps me in his arms I will be pure and whole and not because of anything I have done, but because of His grace.

In my latest book, DO NOT BE DECEIVED, Cassandra, the protagonist, wants her name to mean "runs with the wind." As an older child, she discovers the real meaning of her name--"disbelieved by men" and also "helper of men." Seems like a contradiction ....

Wanting to find clues about her family, Cassandra researches the definitions of her father, mother, sister; and can't help but include her neighbor across the road, Deirdre, who is nicknamed the witch by her small town. Names with definitions including raging one, from the dark waters, lame, supplant--throw her into further shame concerning her family.

The book title is from a verse in Galatians--Do not be deceived, God will not be mocked. Whatever a man reaps, that he will sow. The book title is also taken from a verse in James--Do not be deceived, my dear brothers. Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of Heavenly lights who does not change like shifting shadows. He chose to give us birth through the word of truth that we might be a kind of first fruits of all he created.

Talk about grace!

It might be interesting to see how or if your name fits into your life story.

This much I know: GRACE does.  

 

 

If you like psychological intrigue, suspense, scripture, a little romance, a little humor...Check out the book, DO NOT BE DECEIVED, on the internet....

 

DO NOT BE DECEIVED -- it's "out"....

Book signing for Kathleen Stauffer

Saturday, June 11 at 10 a.m.

for DO NOT BE DECEIVED...

at Our Savior's Lutheran Church, Osage, Iowa-- Fireside Room

Enjoy a presentation, refreshments, and conversation.

Books will be on sale at a reduced rate with some "freebies."

Bring a friend, or two....

 

Book synopsis: Cassandra Walwyn is only five years old when her mother and sister disappear into the night, leaving her along with an abusive father. With no explanation of their whereabouts, she awaits for their return as days stretch into weeks, then months, then years. Driven by loneliness, Cassandra grabs at every lifeline trying to make sense of her life on the edge of a little town where everyone seems to know more about her family than she does. Ignoring her father's advice to keep a low profile and his words, Better to remain silent and thought a fool than to speak out and remove all doubt, Cassandra visits the only two buildings in her rural neighborhood--the tumbledown shack across the road and a little country church....  Cassandra's mistakes and do-overs and inner growth and development form the backbone of DO NOT BE DECEIVED. Clinging fiercely to the God she barely knows, she weathers the storms of adolescence and struggles to sort out the good influences from the bad. As she enters adulthood, she begins to realize that her shame because of abandonment and abuse can be turned into something good for God.

 

If you want the book EARLY, check out the internet or stop at the Mitchell County Museum in Osage where they are now on sale....

 







PIcking Up Dog Poop

Getting older and retiring has benefits. Picking up dog poop is not one of them. I grew up on a farm with an occasional dog or two. We never picked up their poop; however, we did inadvertently step in it which after doing, we tried never to do again-especially when barefooted.

Recently, I have been in Minneapolis with a new grandchild--wonder of wonders. Two terriers live in this apartment as well and need to be taken out to do their thing three times a day. However, this is not an easy task for a former farm girl in spite of the cows, pigs, and chickens that I grew up with.

LaVerne & Shirley at rest...

The preparation, in itself, is timely. I place the "bob" (allowing me back into the building) and the key to the apartment in a pocket. I stick my cell phone in the waistband of my pants in case I lose the keys (or, heaven forbid, a dog). I call the dogs and attach each leash. Once out of the apartment, they pretty much know the routine--unless another dog distracts them in the elevator, or while walking to the front entrance, or the back exit, or somewhere outside. If so, things get exciting and quickly. I must either retreat, take a different path, or pick up one of the dogs as "removing one from the equation" (quote from son) usually lessons their aggressiveness.

During all this, they try to remember the reason for the walk as I carry a poop bag in case they do.... If they do, there is a bending over and a picking-up-the-poop (while my hand is inside a plastic bag) process while holding on to two terriers, making sure the keys and bob do not fall out of my pocket and my phone does not disappear somewhere down my pants. ... all this while hoping another dog or squirrel does not appear on the scene.

I try not to make eye contact with residents as I return to the apartment knowing I must look like a frazzled grandma being pulled along by two dogs...

Laverne and Shirley are very well-behaved. It's just that it has been all-new for me. Talk about "life-long learning"--there are opportunities every day.

The new grand daughter? The wonder of wonders? That's another whole story--the story of a miracle.

1 Corinthians 2:9 tells me, No eye has seen, no ear has heard, no mind has conceived what God has prepared for those who love him.

Whether it's cuddling a new grand child, walking the dogs, enjoying the clouds, struggling with an unfinished, difficult task, God is in everything. Find Him wherever you are and in whatever you are doing. ... and, it helps to have a sense of humor. He created that too.

Worn-out Clothes--What To Do With Them...

As I sorted through my closets and drawers, I discovered my thread-bare, frazzled, brown pants that I wore for gardening, mowing, and refinishing furniture. I pulled them from the top shelf along with my comfy pair of olive green pants and held them close. Worn and faded, there was not much life left in either pair. Pinholes appeared around the pockets and the seams were unseemly.

I decide to give them up, unwillingly, for two reasons.

1) A friend of mine saw me walking one morning in my brown pants. It was a chilly morning—I didn’t want to go back in the house for a stocking cap and coat, so I pulled my straw hat and an old coat from a garage hook and ventured out. Anyway, this “friend” thought I was a homeless person until she got up close and _____. I really don’t like drawing attention to myself—especially that kind...

2. There are several usagain bins around our town which take worn-out clothing and re-purpose. Thinking about my clothing being used as insulation, perhaps, in someone's house filled me with hope. My favorite things would not be simply thrown away; they would live on in someone's attic--keeping a family warm...

So I placed these treasures in a plastic grocery bag and stashed them gently in my trunk. I had separation anxiety at times when there seemed to be nothing else to wear as they waited in the trunk to be dropped into a recycling bin. Winter set in and the usagain containers disappeared.

This spring when preparing to paint a picket fence in our yard, I realized I had NOTHING to wear that would be okay with a paint splash or two—until I remembered what was in my trunk. I pulled out my brown pants and got out the paintbrush. There’s a nice streak of white on a knee which didn't disappear in the wash. No problem. A day later, I wore them to plant beets in the garden. The olive pants? Still in the trunk. Perhaps, there’s a use for them, too.

Isn't it nice to know that God loves us and wants us no matter what we wear or how we look. He may even like our "old" things better than our "new" things.

So That

The phrase so that means nothing unless you have words before and words after-- gotta have both.
For example, "I have to really study for this test, so that I can pass the class."
"We have to get up early tomorrow, so that we can make it to the airport on time.

But wait, life gets more complicated than passing a test or making it to the airport on time:
If you are in an extremely lonely place right now...  it may be a so that circumstance.
If you are in financial difficulties right now....it may be a so that circumstance.
Sick? Troubled?

Whatever the circumstance, God is telling us to KEEP THE FAITH.

God does not cause bad things to happen; however, since he is in charge of everything, it seems He allows them to happen. Why? Why? Why? we sometimes ask.

Whatever happens (good or not so good), He expects it to impact my life. These experiences are part of my life story or your life story. Let us claim them. Let us use them. Let Him give it meaning.

In DO NOT BE DECEIVED, my latest novel now out on amazon, Cassandra, protagonist, sought a God she did not even know. Why? She wanted to understand her life.  She wanted to understand so that she could rid herself of shame, so that she could go on with her life....

Life seems to be filled with so that's...

Jesus used them, too.

I have said these things to you, so that in me you may have peace. In the world you will have tribulation. But take heart; I have overcome the world. John 16:33

Kathy Stauffer - Be Well God Bless Member Interview

I was recently interviewed for bewellgodbless site ....this may give some insight into why I write and what about....

Blessings on the journey.
Kathy

Mother's Vanity: Remembering Mom on Mother's Day

Marjorie June (8th grade)

Marjorie June, my mother, grew up during the depression moving from farm to farm and living sometimes with extended family. She enjoyed the occasional dogs and cats that wandered unto their place and dreamed of getting married, having a family, and living on a farm of her own.

Her father was a seed-corn dealer, and as a young woman, it was common for her to help out in the field as needed.


Vanity? I'm not sure she had time for such thoughts, stylish clothes, or even a mirror to consider all this.

Marjorie June (HS graduation)

  



Mr. and Mrs.

She met my father at a church gathering and fell in love before he left to serve in World War II. Letters were written and a relationship made more precious by the country's circumstances was formed. Mom made a wedding dress out of white wool and waited. Dad returned home with a silver medal and a gold star--perhaps a somewhat changed man. Vows were exchanged in a simple ceremony.

After a brief honeymoon, they moved to Dad's family farmstead. Used furniture filled the house; however, a new bedroom set which included a chest of drawers, a bed with head and end boards, and a vanity with a mirror the width of the dressing table were purchased.

She must have felt like a princess--

married to a veteran,

living in the country

with her own dog,

and a new bedroom set

with a vanity to boot

in the old farm house.

A hand mirror with matching

brush and comb were

all placed on a doily

which covered the

always shining surface.

And, nothing else.

The front drawers held personal items--
a bundle of letters from my dad written
while he was over-seas, nightgowns, and socks.

I imagine her checking her reflection in the large mirror on Sunday mornings. Was the vertical line on her hosiery straight? Was her slip showing? And, her hat, was it at the right angle; should she pull the netting over her face or shift it back over the hat?

As a soon-to-be-mom, I picture her in the early morning--
after her husband went out to do chores--
looking in the vanity mirror and studying
the changes in her young body as her pregnancy progressed.

Months later,

I visualize her sitting on the bed

holding a new born

and staring at this

new image of herself.

A mother with a miracle.

A two year old and a three year old.

A year, then another, and yet another slips by. A nicely framed picture of the family children settles in one spot on her vanity along with products from the Watkins man, socks needing darning, and a pattern or two. A cluttered surface that no longer needs dusting.

My brother and I with a new brother!

The surface items evolve as one year lapses into another to include a stack of diapers neatly folded, Sunday School lessons, and an updated picture or two of what is happening in the family.

When Mom was busy with the cleaning, baking, and meal preparation in the kitchen, the important papers were often shuffled into the bedroom and unto the vanity. I wonder if she ever took time to ponder her image and wonder what she had gotten herself into as the years tumbled one onto another.

And, then, there were four... surrounding Grandpa Harry.

The clutter on the vanity disappeared when Aunt Gladys visited from California. Within an hour of her arrival, her suitcase would be plopped on the bed in my parent's bedroom with her seated on one side and me on the other and the question, "Want to see my shoes?"

I'd slip on her shoes, drape her colorful outfits across my shoulders and dream of growing up and owning fancy outfits of my own. I remember studying our reflections in Mom's vanity mirror as we shared the suitcase contents.

A Sunday morning picture, another brother, and a new baby.

The vanity stayed cluttered, but the contents continued to change over the years. The Watkins man stopped coming to our house; the Avon lady took his place. Tubes of hand lotion (buy one/get one free), miscellaneous birthday and anniversary cards, pages torn from magazines with articles worth keeping blanketed the matching brush, comb, and mirror set along with a smattering of the boys' school pictures and a stack of cloth diapers--always neatly folded.




One year folded into another.
The family picture changed.

My parents moved off the farm and into town.
The furniture went with them--
including the bedroom set they bought as
newlyweds.







The most recent family picture was moved to a new spot--a bookshelf in the living room--along with numerous pictures of grandchildren.

The vanity surface now supported a box of tissues, miscellaneous items bought on sale from the local dollar stores, new books ordered through the mail, and a prescription or two.

The yearly Thanksgiving and Christmas gatherings passed--along with a houseful of conversation, food, and energy that small children bring.  One year flipped into another. The family grew. Folding chairs were brought out of the closet and some of us sat on the floor amongst the grandchildren's blocks and books. The only quiet place was Mom and Dad's room with the visiting coats stacked high on their bed.

Mom was diagnosed with a rare cancer in her eighties.

Who did she see now when she looked in her vanity mirror?

What did she remember?

What were her thoughts?
Did she even take the time to look?

She said little.

I came to stay for a week before her death.

Her appearance no longer mattered.

Daily, she wore the same clothes and shoes
and shrugged her shoulders when asked
a question.

After helping her into bed one night,
I scanned the bedroom. As usual,
my mom was a "stacker," and clutter reigned
--except for the top of the vanity.

One picture remained--
my college graduation picture.

Although filled with furniture, her wedding dishes and silverware, her many books and magazines, the house felt empty after her death. Months later, Dad decided to try assistive living and told us to take what we wanted. Although there were a few antiques of value, I wanted only the vanity with the large mirror that had witnessed so much of life.


 
 
 
 
 
Now taking residence in my home, my mom's vanity holds my pajamas, my socks, and my favorite CD's. The surface displays a picture of my husband and me and a picture of her: my mom.

I am often reminded of her perseverance in all things and her unconditional love.

 

Thank you, God, for Moms.

I Need to Wash My Hair

"I need to wash my hair..."

If you’re close to my age, you know that this phrase had two meanings. 1) My hair feels icky. 2) I don’t want to go out with you.  In the olden days, if a boy asked you out, and you weren’t interested in spending time with him, you could say, “Sorry. I need to wash my hair.” 

He believed one of two things: 1) Your hair is not cool. 2) You do not want to go out with him. If he asked you out on another night, you might have to tell the truth, as in, “No thank you.” His self-esteem might wither, or maybe he was relieved as it was his mother’s idea to “find a nice girl friend.”

Excuses are abundant in every area of life, and the language changes as times do. “I’m having my nails done” would work as an excuse today but probably would not have two or three decades ago, especially if you lived in the Midwest, and your parents were farmers.

One of the most-known Bible excuses came from Adam who said, “The woman you put here with me—she gave me some fruit from the tree, and I ate it.”

Yes, Eve ate. Adam ate, the rest is history, and we’re living it. 
I feel badly after I make an excuse for anything. I need to just give a reason, an honest reason. Hopefully, when it comes to God, I need no excuses. I can be completely open and honest. He already knows everything about me, so who am I kidding? Not even me….