The words belong to a popular song written by Richard Adler and Jerry Ross for the 1955 musical Damn Yankees. I often felt my furry friend was aptly named. I moved to a new area a couple years after my husband died. New neighborhood–new pet seemed like a great idea.I had lost my lovable Chocolate Lab the year before.,My four granddaughters who lived closest to me helped me choose a pup. They and then I fell in love with Pug puppies we saw on the internet. We picked up a chubby ten-week-old Pug that became my constant companion. Lola was perfect for me. She was funny and loving and loyal. I got used to her being wherever I was in the house and later in an apartment. She comforted me with her snuggles when I left an unhappy situation and she kept me busy and occupied when I was lonesome during the early days of the COVID pandemic. Lately, typical of older pets, Lola spent more time sleeping, only occasionally moved to play with her toys. But she never lost her love of people. Extremely social, she would drag me toward people I didn’t know outside my building with her tail wagging, and seemingly saying “Hey, I’m here! I’d like to get to know you.” She could be annoying with her television habit. She would react and bark at any animals on the TV. Once she aged to around 11, Lola became deaf so trying to quiet her during her TV watching was difficult. I took her to the Emergency Vet Hospital on Sunday because she was having difficulty breathing and her abdomen seemed distended. She fell over in the dog yard and could walk only a few steps and would lay down, completely spent. She ate and drank normally even then. In the hospital, the ultrasound showed a tumor which seemed to be in her spleen. There was to be a further scan of some sort the next morning and possible surgery if the growth was confined to the spleen. At thirteen, she had been strong, but I knew I would have a difficult decision to make. At three a.m. she ate chicken and the staff said she seemed more comfortable, but at the next check–she was gone. Lola was a stubborn girl. I think she heard talk of surgery and thought, “Nope, not doin’that” She died on her own terms and took away my problem of deciding her fate. For that I have to be thankful.
I am so sad and nothing looks normal in my home. Without her toys, her dish, her bed. All who have ever lost a pet know what I’m talking about. I thank God for the 13 years and 3 months of her life which blessed me every day. Rest in peace dear Lola.
“The influence of a mother in the lives of her children is beyond calculation.”
James E. Faust
What sort of mother do you or did you have? There are homebody moms, executive moms, teacher moms and some who seem to do it all–and with grace and efficiency.
My mom was a housewife most of her childrearing years. When I was about nine or ten, she went to work and continued to work as a practical nurse until she finally retired. She was not a demonstrative type–not a hugger. I remember falling asleep in the car and my head would land on the fur-like collar of her winter coat. She allowed me to rest there, but she didn’t put her arm around me. In our family you were expected to bring home good report cards–there were no rewards like I heard about from my friends. She didn’t show her feelings or talk about them much. I was sick and asked if I should go to school. She said, “You know how you feel.” We were expected to go to school unless seriously ill.
I learned about her love from the things she did for me and my sisters. When I wanted to go skating as a girl of twelve or thirteen, she would rummage in her purse and come up with the fifty-cents it would cost, even though it seemed there was no money. Sometimes there was money and more often not, because of the way my father worked. He was likely to drink a lot of his pay on the way home from work. But we always had a garden and raised a beef or hog for our meat. Mom could rustle up a delicious meal when someone stopped to visit with the canned items from the basement.
That was the way she showed love, by making good meals and showing hospitality.
Because of the way she was, I determined to show my love for my kids more openly and tell them often how much they meant to me.
Regardless of the kind of mother–they are worthy of our respect and thanks, in most cases. If you didn’t experience a mother’s love; determine to do better in your life. Thank the stand-in mothers in your life, the aunts, teachers, and others who influenced your growing and learning.
I can think of a couple other women who were role models for me and helped me become the person I am. Thank you all!
I had a few thoughts this week about what spring means this year. As a few green shoots appear in flower beds, along sidewalks, and near creeks, I feel hope bubbling in my soul. The same feeling emerged on the day I received my second COVID vaccine. We are not safe yet to resume our old way of living, but we can begin to see brighter days ahead.
Because of the year we’ve all experienced, I spend time with each gorgeous sunset, each bird’s beautiful colors and try to ascertain which ones are singing in the early morning. I find these moments bring joy to my days. I took the picture below on a walk with a friend through Talleyrand Park in Bellefonte.
How about how things occurred in Miami this weekend? People are so anxious to be “normal” again that they are not using good sense. I haven’t lost a loved one during this pandemic, but I know how frightened I was when a couple family memories did test positive. My heart goes out to all who were unable to say goodbye or hold a hand, or pray with a husband, wife, or anyone they loved.
Please, God, increase patience in me and all those who are waiting for “real life” to come back. Help us to see and live our best lives right here, right now. We can recognize each blessing if our eyes and ears are open and if we look for the things we can do to help each other. #nature, #writing, #faith, #joy, #patience
An underlayment is a layer between a subfloor and a finished floor that facilitates leveling and adhesion.
Where am I going with that? I was thinking about my personality and why I am the way I am. When I was little, the home was not a happy place, but we kept that to ourselves. “It was not other people’s business,” said my mom. She was a very quiet and stoic woman. For a long time, as I got older and saw more people react to things, I thought there might be something missing in me. I didn’t seem to react when scary or dangerous things happened, except to try and deal with the situation.
I wondered more than once where God was that he would let a little girl have scary experiences and not answer my prayers. It took me to adulthood to realize that God was with me or there would have been worse outcomes in my life. Once I accepted that and began to thank Him for the protection, I felt myself revealing more emotions as well.
With my own children, I tried to be more demonstrative and show my love. When I got married, my father hugged me but my mom never did. She was mad because I hadn’t finished my education and thought I never would. Thankfully, I did finish a couple of years later, but that didn’t turn her into a “huggy” person.
What has this got to do with floors or underlayment? I thought about how my faith developed and it seems like underneath is the strong support of faith in God. Over that is a cushioning layer of truth–what I know and have experienced and can sink into. Like a cushioning layer. On top of that today is my joy that lays smooth and adherent. I can be upset and even angry, but I am still secure that I’m not alone anymore. I hang onto my joy and allow no-one to take it away from me.
As bad as the country is with its divisions and hate groups and economic problems–I still feel a sense that all will be well–eventually. Yes, stand up and speak and do what you can to back your beliefs, but if you have faith, you then turn it over to God, the only being who knows the outcome.