Downsized Space, Upsized Attitude

New year, new home. We've moved into our new condo, which is 1/1000 of the space (indoor and out) that we had in North Carolina. That is downsizing!

We have furniture we have to sell or donate. And I'm ready for my third run to Goodwill with  leftover household goods.

We've had to downsize our outside space too. The garages are one large building with a row of doors into narrow parking spots. I've scraped the white paint off of the door frame onto our car trying to get into it. Our personal outdoor space is a concrete slab large enough for my potting bench and a small table and chairs. But the HOA won't let me me install my wonderful washing machine-converted-to-sink outside.

We face a green area between buildings that is smaller than our former front yard. While I will enjoy the trees leafing out and the roses blooming, I will miss my former view. My eye had an unimpeded view across the flower beds to the pine trees at the road 300 feet away. From my desk I watched the flowering spring trees go through their cycles.

canine traffic jam

The desk got left behind (it never would have fit!) and I've taken a space near our big bedroom window for my morning reading and writing. The first morning I sat down with my cup of mocha, watched the geese v-ing to ponds that lie beyond. Movement in my peripheral vision interrupted my reverie. Who was walking in "my" yard?   A bundled up senior citizen strolled behind a little dog. And there were more, and more. My thinking time and space were invaded by strangers left, right and center.

I've gone from living in my personal park to being on the doggie commute route. After the first flash of irritation I turned the parade into a list of owner-pet entities.  Shrouded in down jackets and hats, the people are difficult to differentiate. So I identify them by their dogs. There's the pug lady, the woman with a pair of big black canines, a mutt overdressed in a jacket with a faux fur collar, the red coat dog, the pajama guy ambling by with his cup of coffee in one hand, leash in the other, the scruffy hound whose owner needs a shave, and a fuzzball waddling as slowly as its aged owner.

I feel like I've been dropped into a reality show, maybe "Life Swap." I'd like my old life back, but that won't happen even if I win the million dollars.

So I doggedly plug away at accepting what is.

This quote helps me refocus.  "...gather up the fragments of your life and give them to Jesus, and He will make sure that nothing is wasted. Refuse to think about what you have lost; instead inventory what you have left and use it with a thankful heart." Joyce Mayer.

The process of shrinking my domain may expand my capacity for gratitude and flexibility. Perhaps there are unexpected blessings waiting for me in this new life. Downsizing space may result in an upsized attitude.

The Little Read Hen

Do you remember the little red hen? She asked for help in sowing grain,

harvesting the wheat,

grinding the wheat,

and making bread.

Her lazy companions couldn't be bothered to help, and dismissed every request with a "Not I!"

"Very well, I will" she said. And she did.

But when the bread was baked and fragrant, she taunted them and asked who would eat the bread. "I will!" each volunteered.

"Oh, no you won't" she said. And she ate it herself.

My husband hates the little red hen in me. I share her enthusiasm for the rewards of hard work, and the need for personal responsibility. Ask my grown daughters. They'll tell you that I forced them to do their own laundry when they were too small to reach the controls on the machine. It's a blatant exaggeration, I waited until they were at least 9.

The hen's philosophy is a lopsided parenting strategy, but I didn't raise lazy princesses. My girls are independent and, somehow, generous. That must have come from their father. And their Father.

The little red hen and I share a stingy streak.  Happy relationships need a balance of responsibility and mercy. God has given us the responsibility to live up to His perfect standard. And because we can't, He gives us mercy through Jesus.

May I offer you a slice of bread?

http://www.food.com/recipe/5-minute-artisan-bread-325571

Three Things that Annoy

Sometimes the songs from the synapse are off key: 


There are three things that annoy me, yea, four under which I cannot bear up:


bossy children,
cleaning out my refrigerator,
paying for expensive medicine, 
and slow-pokes behind the wheel.


All four challenged me this week. 

 Sunday a child in the church preschool class sets my teeth on edge. 
"Kids don't like to play with little girls who tell them what to do" I say.

"But they need someone to boss them." 
 Oh yes, that's how all of us know-it-alls think. 

While cleaning my refrigerator I find the butt ends of vegetables sliced and left in the crisper, now shriveled and fuzzy. My attitude is as slimy as the squash scraps. 


Then the nurse calls and wants me to refill an expensive medication--for just 3 three days, I get cranky. Surely I can't die that fast without it. I consider self-medicating. 


On the way to the pharmacy I'm behind a dawdling driver. I mutter and moan.


These are NOT the reactions of a grace-filled woman. 


Thankfully, the book of Proverbs is as good at the cure as it is at the diagnosis. "If you have been foolish, exalting yourself, or if you have been devising evil, put your hand on your mouth."  Proverbs 30:32


There are two things that are amazing to me, yes, three that encourage me:

God's patience,
foolishness isn't terminal
and that sour melodies can become sweet songs.