Chairs with a Story

I was asked by a lovely young bride to redo the seats

on some chairs her parents had given her for

her first apartment with her groom.

The chairs had been in her parents attic.

 So I took off the old seats, tightened the rickety

spindles and legs and recovered them.

I used a monogram that she had on her wedding invite

and put that on the seat.

When the brides mom saw them she told how

once upon a time when she was getting married

she and her groom found these chairs 

at a garage sale and proudly brought them

 to their very first apartment.

They didn't mind that they were a little bedraggled

because they were THEIRS!

Isn't that the neatest thing?

I'm so glad I got to be part of the story...

June

"All the smells of winter are washed away 

by the flood tide of the perfumes of June--

an incomparable blend of a thousand flowers

 caressed by the sun, 

of fruit springing from bud in the orchard,

 of roots thickening in loose, rich soil, 

of sea turn, swamp mist, running brooks,

 birch and pine. 

The outdoors comes in and there is no indoors...

Small children, barefoot, roam at will,

 wading brooks, peering into muskrat holes,

feeding small birds in the hollows of trees, 

following woods trails, digging sand banks. 

Women's fingers are pink-stained at night

from the picking and hulling

 which bring strawberry short-cake to the table."

Gladys Hasty Carroll

How Many Miracles?

How many miracles can we ask God for? 

Is there a limit to His mercy

and His grace?

If we ask do we expect to receive what

our minds think is best or what God thinks is best?

These are the questions I have been thinking

a lot about in the past few months and 

especially tonight as our church

faces another night of prayer.

Our Pastor has gone into surgery

for a liver transplant...and we wait

with anxious hearts and prayers for 

just one more miracle!

In his family we have prayed for a 

miracle of release from drug addiction

and his son has been clean over 2 years...

in his family we prayed for his other son

to survive leukemia, pancreatitis,

pain med withdrawal, broken tibia,

ongoing healing...

He has made it 2 years in remission despite

all the complications.

For our pastor we prayed that his liver cancer 

would be healed,

and tonight he gets a new liver...

if God wills it to be so and all goes well.

How many miracles can we ask for

 in one family? 

I don't know-- but what I do know is that there

are no limits set for us in His Word.

He makes it plain that we ought to pray and

ask without ceasing, with faith and in His will.

We should pray even if our faith is as small 

as a mustard seed and He will do

as we ask...according to His will.

So tonight I ask He who knows best for

 just one MORE miracle,

for this family that I have come to know 

and love in such a special way.

I love you Pastor H and Family

May

"May is the tender promise we know will come true.

If in the earlier months any of us has doubted that

God loves his children, every one, we doubt no longer.

The sun has come back and rises north of the mountain,

gently flooding the windows of the east chamber

 as it comes up, and casting a soft light

 on the brown kitchen wall

behind the supper table as it goes down.

The grass is green and growing and the cattle are out.

One night at milking time a 

new calf is brought up from the pasture.

The seed is in and the long rows of twin leaves rise from the earth.

The apple trees are in rosy bloom, the blossoms of 

wild pear and cherry like white torches 

against the dark woods and the stone wall.

Day and night the air is bright and sweet 

with the scent of budding fruit, 

the flash of wings, and the song

of birds building nests among the flowers.

The whistle of the whippoorwill is a bugle call to summer."

Gladys Hasty Carroll

2 Years

Today was a hard day-again.

It was Logan's funeral day.

And it is a day that stands alone in the halls

of pain in my own life.

2 years ago today my husband left for rehab

in CA and from that point on we have 

been separated.

He chose to live in bondage to a substance

and I chose to remove myself from the daily pain

and chaos that had been my life for 10 years

before that day.

This was before...trying so hard to make life

better and easier so he could maintain

sobriety and live a happy life.

This is now...living alone and trying so hard to make 

life better and easier for myself

so I can maintain joy filled, godly living

and be content.

Did I make the right decision?

Did I do enough?

Do I know what the future holds?

Will addiction rob me and my children of 

the man we all love?

These are the hard and unanswerable questions

that I face each and every day.

When I think I am okay and things are better

then something comes along that brings it

all into sharp focus again and I realize

afresh that the pain still hurts just as much,

the tears are just as bitter

and the wound still is not healed.

But...

Gods faithfulness and grace meets me

every day fresh and real,

His love tenderly pours the Balm of Gilead

into my wounded heart and it IS enough

to face each day, not the future with

it's fears and sorrows, but for today.

I will trust that He who says He came to bring 

life abundant means what He says!

Silent Sorrow

This is an extremely difficult subject

that I am addressing in this post.

My heart is full of tears.

Another dear and precious friend lost

her 24 year old son this week-

but he did not go from joy to joy.

He was on a silent and sorrowful path and 

it ended in a silent and sorrowful 

passing-suicide.

The reason I know this friend in such 

a deep and personal way was that we

share the terrible path of watching someone we love

fall ever further into addiction.

I tried to walk the journey along side her as they tried 

to save him from the slide downwards.

There were many times that I hugged her

and felt her shaking with tears and many

times she hugged me and let me cry.

We didn't do things the same, it was her son 

and I am dealing with a spouse, but we

understood how the other felt, the fear

and the pain and the anger and the rage and 

the fierce love and the aching misery.

We walked silently together many times in sorrow.

I look back and think was there ANYTHING I could have

done differently or better to help him,

but it never pays to look back unless we

can learn from it in some way.

This is what I know-

Logan believed in Jesus

he was in terrible bondage to a substance

he couldn't bear the pain

he is Home.

Beyond that I cannot say anything that

I know for sure.

And when I saw her that terrible morning

not one word came from my mouth,

I could only sit by her and hold her hand 

and weep in silent sorrow.

I love you family of Logan

Holy Week 2014

This year I have been reading through 

the Bible in Chronological order-

amazing and eye opening!

At the start of this Holy Week

leading up to that most glorious event

Resurrection Sunday,

I had been stumbling along through

the prophet Zechariah, feeling depressed

by the dire warnings and the heedless

captive Jews. 

Then right in the middle of this a verse leapt off

the page and brought an instant surge of tears.

""then they will look on Me whom they pierced. 

Yes, they will mourn for him

 as one mourns for his only son, 

and grieve for Him as one grieves for a firstborn."

And then a few verses later

"In that day a fountain shall be opened for...sin 

and for uncleanness. "

And then 

"And one shall say unto him, 

what are these wounds in thine hands?

 then shall he answer,

 those with which I was wounded

 in the house of my friends."

I bow the knees of my heart and worship

the One whom my soul loves

and who gave His all in the 

"house of His friends"

that I might look on Him who I pierced

and be cleansed in that Fountain

from all my sin and uncleanness.

January

"January is on a blackboard covered 

almost entirely in white by a soft crayon 

of schoolhouse chalk used on its side

 in bold powerful fingers. 

The board had been scrubbed clean,

 to start with, and uncovered lines and spaces 

which form the crude pattern stand out glistening, 

three-dimensional, and move toward you,

 gathering you in.

The still month."

Gladys Hasty Carroll

The Gift

When we have been around the Bible

and it's wonder all our lives,

we sometimes become jaded and familiar

with its stories.

Sad, but true, for we have been

graced with the opportunity

to immerse in it like very few do in our

fallen world.

Every year at Christmas I ask

God to please help me to see it fresh

and new again, this old, old story,

and each year He gives me

what I have asked.

This year it was through a brand new

Christian, who came to know Jesus

two weeks ago!

Her observations and questions

about Christmas and its' story

brought a spark of light into

the season for me.

She saw in it's simple words

profound truths, 

which she stated very bluntly with no 

flowery "church speak".

In Joseph and Mary and their visions/dreams

she saw faith lived out.
In the shepherds how unmerited grace truly is. 

In the Wise men she saw foolishness

that they would actually go ask King Herod!

In their gifts she saw why we give gifts at 

Christmas time,

and in the flight to Egypt she saw

the liberation of Israel from slavery there.

Let us too bow down and worship with fresh

and simple faith that does not have to develop

over time but is whole from the moment we

realize that Christ is a gift to us personally!

A BLESSED CHRISTMAS TO ALL!

Christmas on the Porches

It is so fun to do up a porch for 

the Christmas Season,

and I have 2:)

Right after I finished decorating the weather dropped
into the teens and the water froze in my
antique canning jars and they all broke:(

Funny story for my sister Faith...
I was out in the ditches again cutting branches
and berries. I was in the mud and water so deep
that I was kind of wondering how I was going to get
out. Just then the mail man pulled up, stopped
and asked "do you want to be in that ditch
or are you stuck?!"
I quickly said "no, I'm ok!" and he drove off
shaking his head, I just laughed
and laughed thinking of how crazy I must've looked.
(see post)
Up to my boot tops

Up to My Boot Tops in Water and Praise

Yesterday there was a short break 

in the drenching rain we've had for the 

last weeks and I suddenly knew 

where I was headed!

To the ditch!

This time of year is when I go foraging

for fall berries and stems to dry

for use in arrangements.

So I put on my rubber boots

and into the ditch I went,

which was so full of water it almost

went over my boot tops.

 As cars drive past and everyone

stares in consternation as to what a crazy 

lady is doing down in a ditch with 

a pair of clippers-I am in a moment of praise.

Here is where I feel so moved by 

God's creation, the color, the bounty,

the glory of His hand moving over land

and water to end a season in a blaze of

joy just as He begins each season.

I went joyfully splashing about

until my car "boot" was full to bursting:)

And then home to make my porches full of glory too,

and just in time as the rain began again.
It also helps to have new purple rain boots:)

Ode to an Empty House

"Ode to An Empty House"
in memory of my childhood home
and my parents who went to Glory this year


The house lies silent in the sun,

the sound of wind sighing in the 

trees no more.

I turn my key in the lock

and step inside the door.

Gleaming floors reflect filtered light

  no foot heard on the stairway treads,

  the stillness of an empty home.

The rail that felt a thousand childrens' hands

polished to a golden brown.

No Mama in the kitchen,

 no Daddy in his chair

the cupboard doors hide nothing now

there's empty shelves and bare.

Each step across this floor, 

hundreds of times each day

  the footsteps got slower over time

 but the love it yet remained.

Only silence in an empty house,

they've crossed the threshold o'er

and from here I cannot see them

standing on the other shore.

 The silence echoes a sad refrain 

 and empty rooms are all I have to see,

  the tears trace hot and salty pathways

and memories linger free.

Goodbye house,

 home of love and grace,

the walls would echo if they could

that God dwelt in this place.



(My childhood home, ready to sell
Beautiful memories available for free!
Anyone who buys this house will be blessed
I know! There's been so much love and goodness
and godliness here that the very walls breath it out.)

by Karen Helmes
2013

The Mystery of the Apple Tree

As I walked the paths around Champoeg I happened 

upon an apple tree growing near the 

river and instantly my mind went to my parents

(for they are never far from my thoughts

and heart these days...)

and a day in my life I remember very vividly.

When I was a young girl,

perhaps around 8 or 10, my Dad was

clearing out some of the woods around our 

house. He put his head in the door,

munching on a little apple (his favorite snack),

and said casually that he had found a 

wild apple tree. 

My Mom tossed her apron on the table, 

called us kid's from wherever we were

spending a lazy summer day reading, 

with that particular excitement in her

voice that meant some wonderful discovery.

We followed her out to where my Dad 

had been working and found this little

 apple tree which we had never noticed

there before. It looked quite old

and very bedraggled but it had a few

little wormy apples dangling here and there.

My Mom's voice took on her story telling

pitch and she said

"Kids, what if this tree was planted by Johnny Appleseed?

Do you think he came this far west?!"

We all began to chatter telling what we had learned 

about Johnny Appleseed in school

and speculating on whether this might be 

one of his trees. Then Mom suggested

that we look for a special mark

somewhere on the tree that would indicate

he had indeed planted it.

To our great disappointment we found

nothing and began to lose interest in the search

 when Dad passed by and gave that wry smile

he often gave to Mom when she

was being fanciful and said

"It's just a wild apple tree, Martha,

from a bird dropping a seed."

Mom gave him that look that said

"why do you always have to be so practical?"

and we trooped back to the house.

The great thing about parents like we had

is that they both truly loved history,

Dad the history of Christianity

and Mom, history of all kinds, especially

American and Finnish. 

History was exciting! It was worth crying over

and retelling many times, it was more than 

words on a page, it was the best part of 

learning, and that is why when I walk

along a river and see an apple tree

I think of who planted it and when

and of my parents and how 

instilling in a child excitement over an

apple tree carries with it the excitement

every child should have

about the great country we live in.

A Story of A Table

Once upon a time, in the past,

not so far back that it can't be remembered,

a young girl bought a table.

The money she had earned was 

very precious to her and so 

when she went to the thrift store to

make her purchase, she never

forgot the day.

She painted it and added a fabric skirt

and it became her very first real piece of

furniture that no one else had bought.

Many years passed and the girl became a 

wife, a mom, Grannie and great Grannie.

Every time she visited at her aging parents

home she saw the table in the closet

and wished she could ship it to her home

but it wasn't really worth shipping 3000 miles.

Then the parents were both gone and the 

house was being emptied.

The owner of the table looked at it longingly

and told the story to her sisters

who were helping go through the lifetime

of memories.

The table was given to a sister instead,

with the honor of refinishing it and selling it.

When she began to strip off the top 

 she found 4 layers of

wallpaper spanning many styles

and decades.

When the table was finally stripped and cleaned

it got a new coat of paint and a pretty knob.

Then a new era of the tables' story came to be.

Another girl wanted to have it

and so it was given to her as a birthday surprise.

This girl is the first girls only brothers' daughter.

So it was not given away to a stranger,

but only went to stay now in the same family

but a different house.

And the Girl who was resides at 

The Raggedy Garden

while the Girl who is resides at

A J Crazies

 In our family the Girl who was

is the story teller so this story is told

to honor her many gifts

and to share a little piece of her life. 

62 Days

They were together for 67 years.

He left this earth for Heaven on January 2

and 62 days later she followed.

It was the perfect ending to a perfect love story.

But I miss her so much already!

She was a Mom who never was too busy 

to talk about the little things that made

up my life and never turned away

when I came to her with big things.

At the end of her life she was less than 100 lbs

but her frail shoulders were still able to

carry my heavy burdens with so much

grace and positive encouragement.

She always managed to find something good

to say about every person and every situation

and put the best construction on what others

said and did. So she was always terribly surprised

by any bad news as if that could not possibly be

true that everyone did not have some redeeming quality. 

If there was a new baby born it was just like it was

the first baby and a new tooth or first step
 in a grand child was

just as exciting to her as it was to the parents.
When her home was filled with "little people"
her joy was radiant.

Her life was always lived to serve and love others

starting with her Lord and then her husband 

and everyone else in equal measure.

When the time came for her at 19 to become a

preachers wife she embraced that calling 

as if she had been born to do it

and ministered to just as many as my Dad.

She loved to tell stories and was a prolific

writer of poetry and songs.

There was never any doubt that she was
a lady in the true sense of that word
and her serenity for life came from the fact
that she never tried to step outside of who
she was intended to be.

But most of all she was our Mom,

and we were always "her _____ (name)"

and when we came in the door whether 

we had been there 2 hrs or 2 years 

before it was like we were the most special

person she had ever seen.

I cannot imagine life with out her,

the hole is very big and we all know

that there is no one who will love us

quite like Mama did!

Mom
Born May 6, 1926
Gone to Glory March 5, 2013

'Night My Daddy

Dad

Born September 22, 1920

Passed on to Glory January 2, 2013

When I was small 

you gladly carried me,

until you saw that I was

able to walk alone.

When you were old

I gladly helped you walk,

for I saw it was too hard 

for you to walk alone.

When He saw best

Jesus carried you home

beyond my sight to Heaven,

where you will not walk alone.

'Night my daddy,

my heart carries you close

until I can walk with you

again on streets of gold.

Karen 

Swaddling Clothes

This idea is not original,

but last night it suddenly hit me with

special meaning...

I couldn't fall asleep as my mind raced from 

one worry to another.

 I got my Bible

and decided to see how many 

Old Testament Scriptures

I could find that refer to the 

Birth of Christ.

As the prophets inserted into seemingly oblique

passages glimpses of what was to come

in Bethlehem one Holy night,

I was overwhelmed with the thought

that if you made a strip of cloth and wrote each passage

on it and wrapped it around the Christ Child,

He would be swaddled in the Scriptures!

And if you began to add those references

to His life and death

the manger and stable would be filled with

bolts of Swaddling cloths...

Such a humble place for a King we say?

I say what Rich and Royal Robes

He wore that first Christmas Day.

A blessed and Holy Christmas

filled with joy and peace to All!

Karen

from 

Out in the Fields

A Bear on my Doorstep

I opened my back door today and

to my great surprise and delight

this is who was sitting there!

I was having a very sad day...

and this was the first thing that made

me break out in a big happy grin.

Thank you to whoever left this for me,

I assume that you know the story of

my stolen bear and blessed me with 

a new one...AND flowers!

If you didn't know that would be 

an amazing thing:)

God bless you for brightening up a 

tear filled day, God knew I needed to be

shown that I am loved:)

Summer afternoon

"Summer afternoon,

Summer afternoon,

To me those have always been

the two most beautiful words

in the English language"

Henry James



The Lord is My Rock

"The Lord is my rock and my fortress and my deliverer...

For who is God, except the Lord?

and who is a rock, except my God...

The Lord lives!

Blessed be my rock!"

Psalm 18