Friday, March 25, 2011

The gift of receiving

It is funny how you may think you are above something, and yet it is a huge problem. For me, it is pride. I didn't think that I had a problem with pride, after all, I am Nanasee- which is supposed to encompass so many good qualities. Pride is something that stunts your advancement, keeps you from exploring new opportunities and so much more. But, alas, I discovered that I am guilty of having too much pride. Don't get me wrong, I am not talking about the kind of pride where I feel I am too good to associate with "people", or the pride of being judgemental, or even the pride of thinking that I am better than others. I know for a surety that I am not. I am talking about the pride of exposing my needs to others. So many love me, so many care, so many want to help. I am ashamed of letting others in, to see my vulnerability. Why, I would weigh myself on Good Morning America before I would admit that I have chosen to be more frugal. It is very difficult for me to say that I cannot participate in something because my budget won't allow it. I am embarrassed by the the look given by others when they hear this, because inevetably the next words out of their mouths are, " Oh, don't worry, I'll get it for you, Let me pay this time, or even, It is on me". There were days not so long ago, that I would proudly proclaim those same sentiments to others. I see so much more, now that I am in Ant mode. Why did I always feel that I had to step up and take care of everything for everyone? I could not see if they were uncomfortable with my magnanimous attitude, in reality, I just wanted to make them feel better.
Recently, I have been graciously treated to lunch several times, breakfast a few times and other small gifts. Each time, I felt so embarrassed, because, I actually had to face my "Antness" and see life clearly. How I love those who have been so good to me. Behind their backs, I have shed tears of embarassment and really struggled to graciously accept those loving gifts. My daughter taught me a valuable lesson just last night, and with it, the gift of understanding. Someone near and dear to me has invited Martin and I to a pricey restaurant in honor of Martin, Becky and Robby's birthdays. She is going to pay for the birthday people, but the rest of us are on our own. When my daughter told me of this, I had to admit that "my budget won't allow me to go." My daughter said, "oh Mother, I am going to pay for you. Don't worry!" I was flooded with the same feelings of embarassment and maybe even resentment that she would even have to offer. I told her that I could not accept her offer, and would work something out. Again, she told me that it was not a problem, and that she wanted me to be with the family at the dinner. I flatly refused telling her that I did not want to be a burden on her. With great exasperation, she told me that I was being silly and to lay off the drama. She reminded me of her success in her career, and the fact that one dinner would not break her. With the beginning of some tell-tale sniffles, I again refused her offer. Then, with the wisdom that she was born with, she said with a grin, "Tell you what. You can take the cost of the dinner off of the babysitting money I am paying you. How's that?" I felt like the cleansing flood of Niagara Falls suddenly fell on my head. She was giving me a gracious way to accept her gift without my pride getting in the way. Looking at her, I realized that she is indeed a very special person, full of wisdom and charity, love and compassion. I immediatley agreed to go to the dinner, and in that moment, I felt relief and joy. I was no longer accepting charity, but earning my way.
Now, why couldn't I have just given in and said Thank You to her first offer? Why was I so quick to deny her the gifts of charity?
Accepting an offer from someone who loves you encompasses so much more than just the gift. The gift giver receives so much in return. They receive the gift of knowing that they have made someone they love very happy. They feel the joy of knowing that they are in the service of Heavenly Father when they give freely. It is a gift rare and special when it is given with a happy heart, and intended to relieve the anxiety of someone else. I am guilty of wanting to make every one happy, always giving to others just so I can feel such wonderful feelings. I truly want the other person to be happy, but the feelings I get in return are almost as powerful as a drug, as I get such an emotional high from the act.
What a wonderful lesson I have learned. Once again, being an Ant is teaching me exponetially more than just how to budget money. I am learning more by this experience than I ever thought possible. I am becoming a better person. I love it. I hope to always be an Ant, and never again a Grasshopper. Love, Nanasee

Tuesday, March 22, 2011

Living on a shoestring

Being an Ant is challenging. I have forgotten just how good I used to be at stretching a dollar, or even a dime. When the kids were little, and we were a one income family, I had many opportunities to try to get by on little or nothing.
Our first house note was 76.00 a month. Our car note was 95.00 a month and we had no credit to pay. Still, we struggled as Martin mad a whopping 600.00 a month before deductions. Basically, we saw about 110.00 a week to live on. That was in 1976. Somehow, we had all we needed to get by. Thinking about this, I began to remember the ways that I "helped" our budget. There was a salvage store that sold canned goods that were damaged, dented or just about to go out of date. Canned goods, such as vegetables, fruits, cat and dog food and other stuff were a great bargain. I visited this place often, and one day I saw a huge pile of cans that had no labels. A sign on one giant pile said, "vegetables" and a sign on another said, "fruits". There was also a pile for pet food and a pile of canned tuna. The amazing things was, that each can, no matter what it was cost only a nickle. Remember, there were no labels on these cans, so you were really taking a chance to buy them, but that didn't stop me, as I saw an opportunity to feed my brood for a bargain. I borrowed a marker and going to the piles, I put a V on the veggies and an F on the fruits. T for tuna and P for pet, and I loaded up a couple of baskets with my found treasure. Martin almost died when he came home and found me still trying to find places for all of these cans, and fortunately I had already put most of them together in the pantry in their class. It seems that it didn't take long for the marks to fade, so I was soon on my own when deciding what to serve. I learned that corn shakes different than green beans, and peas had a different sound too. Creme corn was no problem, but once in awhile, I made a mistake and opened two different kinds of vegetables. Fruits were different. Applesauce was easy to recognize by shaking, but peaches, mandarin oranges and fruit cocktail all sound just about the same. It became a game of chance to try to get two cans of peaches at the same time. The real problem was the tuna and pet food. They are in the same size cans, and shake the same. Most of the time I got tuna instead of friskies, but once in awhile the cat got a bonus dinner because I opened a can of tuna instead of cat food. I fondly remember the day when I could go back to buying cans with labels- it made life so much easier!
Then came the day when we had an experience similar to the Pioneers in Montrose camp on the way west, when the quails fell out of the sky. When the kids were small, we lived out in the country, and since we had about an acre of land, we utilized it as much as possible. We had a milk cow, some chickens, geese, rabbits and a couple of pigs. There was space for a small garden. We milked the cow, gathered eggs, (and on occsasion had chicken and dumplings from an ornery rooster), made sausage from the pigs and in general, used all of our talents to make the little area pay off for us. One day in the summer, we were coming home from church, and came up behind a semi-truck that had partially turned over. It was a truck taking chickens to the slaughter house, and some of the chickens had escaped their doom, running all over the street in all directions. "Stop the car!" I screamed, and as Martin tried to brake, I jumped out and took stock of the situation. I ordered the kids out of the car, (we had 4 under the age of 7 and number 5 was on the way. I began to comandeer a chicken catching operation, giving the kids bags and anything else we had so that we could catch the loose ones and throw them into the car. I remember Sissy and Bobbie Jo grabbing chickens in a contest to see who could get the most, but the winner was Martin, as his long legs and arms gave the poor chickens almost no chance at all! We had about 25 chickens captured and in the car, when a man came up and asked us what were were doing, catching the chickens. I motioned for the kids to get back in the car, and said, "What chickens?" and Martin sped off. It seems that chickens do not like to ride in open spaces, for soon their nervousness was evident by the patches of chicken poo all over the back of the car. Fortunatly, we were not too far from home, and got those "poo Birds" out of the car and into a pen. It seems that the chickens were intended to meet their doom anyway, for as soon as the kids went to sleep, Martin and I fired up a large drum of water over a fire outside and began the work of "chicken processing". Yes, we "processed" all of those poor chickens, and put them in the freezer for the future. We worked long into the night, because we didn't want to upset the kids after all their hard work. Funny thing though, they never did ask why the chicken yard didn't seem much more crowded- maybe they knew more than we thought. The private joke between Martin and I was that we were having fried "road kill", and when we laughed about it, everyone thought we were crazy. Then, there were the rabbits. We had quite a few, and when the babies got to be about 8 weeks old, they were the perfect size for the freezer. Did you know that rabbit does taste like chicken? At least our kids thought so, and we didn't actually tell them that it was rabbit they were eating. That is fine and good, but Martin played a joke on me that is practically unforgiveable. We were having a Relief Society dinner one day, and we all volunteered to bring a dish. Martin told the RS president that he would provide all of the chicken for the dinner, the menu being fried chicken, mashed potatoes, rolls, vegetalbes and pie. I thought that was so kind of him, and since we had all of those chickens in the freezer, I also felt it was a good way to share Heavenly Father's bounty. Sure enough on the day of the dinner, Martin surprised me by bringing several large platters of golden fried chicken to serve. The batter was light and crispy, the meat tender and juicy. If there were no chicken legs, I didn't think that it was strange. The women were eating with gusto, admiring Martin's culinary skills and asking for his recipe. Then, dear old Sister Macon spoke up. She said, "Yes Martin, tell me where you got this tender rabbit meat. I haven't had rabbit meat so fresh and tender since I moved from the country. I would love to have some, where did you get it?" RABBIT MEAT?!!!!
Good grief, you could have heard a pin drop- and then, holy commotion. Part of the women were amazed that rabbit could taste so good, and part of them were heading for the bathroom. Sadder still, part of them were crying, saying that no one should kill Thumper and eat him. I turned a steely gaze on Martin and he grinned at me. "Ha" he said, "These city women would never have know it was rabbit if ole Sister Macon hadn't opened her trap! Did you see the look on their faces? It's worth a million bucks!" "Well, your life ain't worth a plug nickle right about now, Joker Man" I told him. The really bad thing was that those women thought I was in on it. I didn't have a clue as to what Martin had done. I felt so bad, and tried to explain that if I had known what he was up to, I wouldn't have let him do it. Anyway, Martin loves to tell that story, and other's too, like it. All I can say is, if he is cooking for you, ask to see the package the meat came in.
I have many other examples of how we were able to live on a shoe string, and thinking back, it gives me comfort knowing that I do have the knowlege to do so. My kids don't remember doing without anything, and indeed, they comment often on the hearty meals I served each day. Ask them about the chickens, the rabbits and the unlabled cans of food. Those are happy memories for all of us! Love, Nanasee

Monday, March 21, 2011

I lost the bet

So, this will be the account of how we stored all those canned goods. First of all, we have a little "Mother-in-Law" apartment off of the side of our garage. It is the room we stayed in while Bobbie Jo was ill, and after until we got the house repaired after the hurricane. There is enough room in there for food storage, however, Martin has wanted, for years, to have a man cave. Poor man, something has always come up to where he has had to sacrifice his space. There are a couple of steel shelves against the wall. Plenty of room for canned goods, but, they were also being used for jelly making supplies and other food storage. As each day went by and we were bringing home hundreds of cans of food, it became apparent that we would have to find something else on which we could store the food. Feeling magnanamous, I suggested that we go to Lowe's and get another shelf. I may have well as suggested that Martin unman himself, as to the reaction he gave. He gave me an incredulous look, eyes popping, veins standing out, hair standing up. "Haven't I given you enough space for your junk! Where am I going to play pool?! How can I watch my tv in here? My sofa is covered with your crap! NO! NO! NO MORE SHELVES!" Well golly, I didn't see that coming. Anyway, my crap? My junk? Am I the only one going to benefit from my carefully planned and executed food storage plan? I could literally feel my hair standing up and my veins begin to swell. Controlling my temper I said, "Precious, what do you plan to do with all this food? It is everywhere, and if you do indeed want to ever play pool again, you better let me find a solution to store it out of your WAY! Now, get in the truck, and let's go to Lowe's and get a shelf! NOW!" Martin said something that I will never forget. He said, "make me". What? What did he say? Make him? I stared at him with total shock. Why, that little #@##**! How dare he speak to me that way! But wait, how was I going to make him do what I wanted? Standing there amonst all the canned goods, I realized that I was way beyond "kissie poo" to sway him. Indeed, his hands were clenched tightly by his side, his face was red, and I could see that he was truly upset about my encroachment on his already limited "man space". It was apparent that he was going to stand his ground, and that was squashing my "food storage high" that I had been on for the past couple of days.
But wait! I am smarter than this. I appealed to his sense of reason. I pointed out that there was no way that anyone could organize all of those cans without another shelf. That was a huge mistake! Through stiff lips he uttered, "I'll do it. Get out". Yeah, okay, he'll do it. Sure he will, this man that cannot match his socks, thinking that if they are not already paired, then they are toys for the dogs. Looking at him, I realized that the straw was going to snap, so I wisely retreated, saying on my way around the chaos and out the door, "Okay, but when you can't find room for everything, we go to Lowes!" I slammed the door for good measure.
I began to clean the kitchen. After that, I dusted the living room, swept the floor, checked on the wash, put the dogs out, (yet again) and cleaned the bathroom. Still nothing from the man cave. I heard a knock on the door and the missionaries were there. I invited them in, put out some cookies and juice and sat down with them in the kitchen. I kept listening for sound of defeat next door. I was distracted, and finally one of the missionaries asked me what was wrong. With a rather heated attitude, I told them what was going on. When I saw the shocked look on thier faces, I realized the story meant little to them, but they were surprised that I could be so angry about it. Then, the ancient wise woman in me came to the fore. I knew what to do. I would win this one. Watch me! I said, "Girls, come next door and watch a real woman work her magic. He will be putty in my hands. Watch and learn for the future." I made a plan to sweetly go next door, sympathetically praise Martin for all his "failed" work, and tell him how proud I was of all his efforts. I would give him a kiss, and offer to help. And then, we would go to Lowe's and get another shelf! Pasting a sugary smile on my face, I walked into the man cave, ready to take control. I would make sure I didn't damage his sensitive ego as I pointed out that I had been right all along, and he, a simple man, could not possibly organize such a project without my experience and wisdom.
I walked into the most unbelievable scene. There before me stood martin with a clip board and a color coded chart, efficiently stacking cans on those two shelves in meticulous order. They were alphabetized, color coded and double stacked. Worst of all, he was almost done! The missionaries looked at me expectantly to see how I was going to "handle him". Time stood still as I took in all that was happening before me. It could go either way. Everything hinged on what I did next. Then, the sweet urging of the spirit whispered, "Thank him". At that moment, all my anger and frustration died away. Standing before me was simply a little boy that wanted so badly to show me that he could "do it". My heart filled with so much love, and a realisation that he was not doing this for superiority, but only to show me that he could take care of me. I stood before the beautifully organized shelves, took his hand and said, "what would I do without you? You always seem to know what is best." He squeezed my hand and with a Martin grin, said" Well I have a couple of cans left over with no place to put them. What do you think?" I wanted to say, "get another shelf!" but I didn't. If I had to carry those few extra cans in my pocket until we used them, I wouldn't have ruined the moment. I said, "I know! Lets just put them in the kitchen and use them first!" And so, the day was saved. Except for the moment when the missionaries asked, "Sister See, how exactly did you handle him? We need to know for the future." I said, "Well Sisters, I didn't handle him, I handled me." That is the secret of being a real woman!"
And so, the life of an Ant goes on . Our food storage is stored, and my marriage is saved. Again, being an Ant is giving me lots of lessons in life, but strangely, not about thriftyness. Love, Nanasee

Saturday, March 19, 2011

Windfall!

Being an Ant means that you have to completely change your way of thinking. This will take some getting used to for me. My dear daughters have taken me out 3 times this week, and they paid each time! How wonderful! It is hard not to reach for my wallet when the check comes, but I am trying.
Now, let me tell you of an experience I had when getting my food storage together. Shortly after Martin was told that he could be terminated due to his illness, we went to see Aaron a his family for the blessing of little Sam. Fortuneatly I had purchased the Airline tickets much earlier, and so we were able to make the trip. The whole weekend was so wonderful, but overshadowed by the worry of Martin's job. Try as I might, I think that my craven attitude may have sneaked out for a moment or two, and my very wise son gave me good advice. He said, "Mama, don't worry". Very good, but when it's your head on the block, worry is your constant companion. Funny thing though, when I went into one of the bathrooms at his house, I saw a little wooden plaque that said, "Be ye strong and of a good courage. Be not afraid, neither be though dismayed, for the Lord they God is with thee." It touched me so much, that I actually asked if I could have it. I needed to read that often! When we got home, I laid down to settle in to worry all I wanted. It seems that Heavenly Father has a sense of humor, because just as I had gotten comfortable and turned on the water works, the doorbell rang. Martin and I looked at each other and said at the same time, "you get it". I knew I had lost that contest when he rolled over and ignored me and the doorbell. So, I dried my eyes, blew my nose, put on my jeans again and shuffled to the door. To my immense surprise, there stood a family of some dear friends, smiling like cheshire cats. Those grins alone cheered me right up! They said they had been worried about us, and so decided to bring a little something to cheer us up. A little something? It was a plastic tub full of everything for Valentines day! Candy, glasses, beads, and other lovely things, especially a little cookie jar. I mentioned that Valentines Day was somewhat distant as that day was only January 18th, but was firmly told that I had a w hole month to enjoy myself. Amongst hugs and kisses of gratitude, my f riend whispered that there was a lttle something in the bottom of the tub especially for Martin and me. I quickly peeked and found a 100.00 bill! I began to protest but was told it was so that Martin and I could go to Valentines dinner and have a special evening. I could not express my thanks and sent the family off with gushing gratitude. I felt bad that I even gave the impression that we may have need of such cheering up, but as I looked at all the goodies, I realized that perhaps I did.
A couple of weeks went by and I spent my time trying to figure out how to help Martin with his situation. (that is another whole posting, but will come in the future). Then one day, I got the Kroger sale paper in the mail. They were having a huge sale on canned goods. I mean, really huge, as the top brand of canned goods were only .32 cents instead of .82 cent each. I thought of how that would help my food storage, and realized that there was no money to go and get them. I, being an Ant, had to save for the unknown future. The limit was 20 cans per purchase, and my super deal antennaes were buzzing. As I sat there thinking about perhaps just getting a few cans, my eyes strayed to the Valentine bucket. I walked over to get a Hershey Kiss to comfort myself and saw the gleaming green of the 100.00 bill. Did I dare? Hadn't I promised to use that money for Valentines day? Calculating quickly, I realized that 100.00 divided by .32 cents would get me 312 cans of food! Did I need so many? Of course I did! Remember, food storage. I made up my mind. Shopping I would go, and I didn't have to tell my friend about the decision, and to make it more honest, I would open up some of them for Valentines dinner at the house!
But wait- I could only get 20 cans at a time. That would mean 15 trips to the store. I decided to enlist Martin. We could make a day of shopping and only have to go 8 different times to the store. Of course, we would go to different Krogers so we wouldn't look so greedy. When I told Martin of my plan, he grinned at me. "Just like you to figure something out when it comes to food" he said. So, the next day, off we went. What fun we had. I felt like I had won a trip on Supermarket Spree or whatever that show was called. Then, we realized upon getting to the store that lots of stuff was hugely discounted. Tuna, chili, noodles, ketchup, vegetables, cake mixes, flour, soup and other stuff. Great food storage stuff. I was trying to calculate in my limited brain how to spread out my windfall, when Martin (knowing my every nuance since the day we met) reached in his wallet and pulled out another 100.00's. He told me he had been saving it for a rainy day. Oh my goodness, I couldn't believe it. SHOPPING! Well, to make a long story short, (is that possible?) over the next 3 days, we went from one Kroger to another tossing food into a basket and having just a wonderful time. See, this wouldn't have been possible if I had not decided to become an Ant, and if Heavenly Father did not let me friend know that the need was there. What a true blessing, and now we have about 8 months of food stored for the next several rocky months that may come our way. Tomorrow, I will tell you how we actually stored all this food. That is a blog in itself! Oh, and I did tearfully confess to my friend how her gracious gift had been spent, and she just laughted and told me she was delighted! Love, Nanasee

Friday, March 18, 2011

No longer a grasshopper

Do you remember the sotry of the Ant and the Grasshopper? Briefly, it is about a very industrious ant that worked hard, was thrifty and prepared for the winter or the hard times to come. The grasshopper was a self-indulgent, party boy who had no care for the future. He did not think about the hard times to come, and when winter did come, he starved because of his lack of preparation.
Now, I am not going to claim to be a complete grasshopper, but in a way, I had forgotten how it felt to be concerned about money. Martin's good job provided very well for us, and I became a bit self-indulgent. I had plenty of opportunity to save for the "winter" but it seemed that it would spring for a very long time, and I became lax about my efforts. All of my financial commitments were made perfectly on time, and most important, my tithing was paid.
Well friends, "winter" seems to have come and is settling in for the long haul. For those of you who don't know, Martin has become very ill from an airborne allergen at his job. Recently, it became so bad that he came down with pnumonia. He has seen several doctors, and is now being cared for by a critical care pulmonologist. The pulmonologist has told martin that he will have to leave this job if he gets sick just one more time. When Martin went on spring break, (he teaches college) he was having symptoms again, but being away from the atmosphere has seemed to keep things on hold.
When he goes back, he will get ill again. That is a given. Since June, Martin has had bronchitis 7 times, and pnumonia once. Each time, it has been more and more difficult for him to recover. We have been denied workman's compensation, as they claim we cannot prove that it is the atmosphere that is causing the illness.
Enough of that. If he becomes ill again, we are facing unemployment or at least employment without pay. All of the sick leave is exhausted, and so each day missed is a day without pay. Without pay, there are no benefits. I need insurance for sure, and now, so does Martin. It is so scary! Enter the ant.
Last June, I awoke one bright summer morning with the thought that I had not replaced my emergency food storage that had been ruined by hurricane Ike. I wondered why it was even a problem, as we never seemed to use the emergency food supply. But, the thoughts and feelings stayed with me, and so I decided to build up my food storage once again. Over the last 8 months, I have been fortunate to have been able to find bargains, can food, and visit the cannery to put up wheat, beans, milk and other essential food storage items. I estimate that we could easily live 8 months on what we have so far. Aren't I something? Not really. I also have to learn to say "NO" to frivolities in my life. I developed a very bad habit of eating out instead of cooking for Martin and I. After the hurricane, we had to eat out, but that excuse was over a while back, and still we went to restaurants at least several times a week. It is pretty bad when you are greeted by name when you walk into an eatery, and in my case, all of Seabrook knew me very well! I didn't blink when it came to paying 3.75 for a loaf of my "special" bread, throwing money away on bakery items instead of baking myself, spending extra money on conveniences and buying clothes just because " I wanted too". 50.00 no longer became a big deal to me, and payday was just another day, because I knew that payday would always be there. Well, why not? It has been there for over 18 years! Don't get me wrong, I am not whining.
I have become an ant. I feel like I have slammed up against a proverbial financial wall. The word "NO" is my nickname. I actually have to think about what I spend. More importantly, I have to SAVE for the near future. Most importantly, I have to rely on the loving help of my Heavenl;y Father, to that I will not go absolutely crazy.
So, that is the introduction to this new era of my blog. I have lots to tell you. I almost like being an ant. One thing that is very annoying though, when I contemplate a purchase, or if I talk it over with Martin, he has been pinching me on the hiney (like an ant bite) saying, "we are ants!". He thinks that is funny. I got over funny after the tenth time he did it. Tomorrow, I will begin to share with you the journey from Grasshopper to Ant. It is a bumpy ride. Love, Nanasee

Thursday, March 17, 2011

Hey Y'all!

Well, it has been a very long time since I wrote on this blog. Writing has always helped me get through difficult times, ans, once again, I find myself in a very difficult situation. Before I get to that however, let me tell you that today Martin, (dad) and I went to the gravesite where Bobbie Jo and Otto are buried. It is the 2nd anniversary of her funeral, and well, I just wanted to go. While I was there, I remembered something about her funeral that still brings humor to me. Dear Sister Diane Malley was giving a eulogy on Bobbie Jo, and said the dearest thing. She said, "Bobbie Jo was always an obdient child". For those of you who were there, I am sure it was as difficult for you as it was for me not to burst out laughing at that statement. Now, don't get me wrong, when Diane was her teacher at church, Bobbie Jo was an obdient child. Time changes everything, and the Bobbie Jo that we all know and love was very strong and determined to have things her way!
Most especially, today something very special happened at the gravesite. After Bobbie Jo died, Martin and I would go to the gravesite when we could, but it was very hard. We didn't go often, but when we did, it seemed that there was always a ladybug close by. Then, ladybugs began to appear at our home, even in our vehicles. I love ladybugs. I began to wonder why those lovely ladybugs were showing up like they were, as I had not really seen any in a long while. Then, one day at the gravesite, Martin and I were holding each other, and expressing our grief through silent tears. I looked up at Martin to tell him that I loved him and to try to comfort him, when to my huge surprise, a ladybug landed right on one of his tears and rode it down his face. I was so stunned, and from then on, I decided that ladybugs would be a symbol of Bobbie Jo to me. I found a tiny gold ladybug pendant and began to wear it with the necklace that has Otto's name on it, and that I had worn since Otto died 19 years ago. Well, today, when we went to the gravesite with flowers and balloons, guess what? A ladybug landed on Otto's headstone and just sat there. I was so happy, I swear, at the risk of all of you thinking that I am crazy, I believe that somehow, Bobbie Jo and Otto are sending ladybugs to let me know that they are close by. I don't question it anymore, I just think it is very special.
Okay, here goes. It has been 2 years since Bobbie Jo died. While she was so very ill, I was able to share my feelings through this blog, and found great comfort in knowing that all of you were there, thinking of me and praying for me. The time has come once again, for me to lean on you. Be patient with me, as I write about my current difficulties. They seem to be many and overwhelming, but to be fair, as difficult as things seem, the blessings are just as wonderful. So, from now on, I will be writing so that I can relieve my tension and anxiety. I am not averse to any of you offering advice- so feel free to if you want. This will be the first of many posts, and starting tomorrow, I will began to let you all know what is going on. Till then, Love, Nanasee