I hate shopping.

The title says it all: I hate shopping. I really do. I have never liked it. My sister, she loves shopping - retail therapy and she's really good at it. You wouldn't believe the deals she finds. I get very nervous shopping with her. I'm a 'take-a-deep-breath-and-get-in-and-get-out-as-fast-as-you-can' shopper. God bless my sister, she thoroughly enjoys the shopping experience and, relaxes and meanders. I don't meander in stores. You ought to see me hyperventilate if I have to try on clothes: #1, those fitting rooms are smaller than elevators; #2, there is no air flow in there; and #3, they're smaller than elevators.

Every two weeks, I have to shop to buy groceries. A lot of friends be like: have it delivered or just pick it up. Those are very good ideas, except for the fact, I am very particular on what I put in  my cart, and even though I hate shopping, I'm going to pick out my items. quickly. Anyone else ignore the first item on the shelf and reach behind it for one in back? I know you do, there's a meme floating on a social media site which shall not be named here. I do this. Sometimes, I feel kind of sorry for that first item and imagine there is an island for first items on the shelf, like the island for misfit toys in the 'Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer' Christmas show. What is the name of that Jack-in-a-box that is not Jack? Anyway, once in awhile, I imagine that sad can of peas on that island, and I grab the first one and quickly put it in my cart and leave the area. I've told my boys that I am not crazy, I am entertaining. Are you laughing yet? Cuz I am laughing at my absurdity that is me shopping. I do trust my son - he works at the store, and he's been known to grab dented cans (I've accused him of doing this on purpose, which he admits he does, cuz it's the same as a non-dented can, and then I imagine that island for dented items again) and carry on with the dented can in my cart, which I've gotten better at using. I come from the time when dented cans meant you died from botulism, or something like that. I'm not really sure if that was ever true, but I did hear my Grandma E say that once and, from that point on - I was petrified of dented cans. My son was a sous chef for 7 years, he knows his dented cans. I still give him the eye when he brings it home, or puts it in the cart and then, he gives me the eye back and we carry on. We've saved a few dented can from that island of misfit and dented grocery items.

Today's shopping required me having to get a new curling iron. My old curling iron finally died. It had a good life. I seriously cannot remember when I bought this one. All of the print and the heat numbers wore off a long time ago. Today, it tried to heat up to the highest number that used to be there, by burning the tops of both of my ears and got a finger, but couldn't control my hair (which needs high heat to control it). So, I took a deep breath and headed to the hair product aisle, before heading to the grocery aisles. It is convenient for me that I can get everything in one store. Thus only one panic attack instead of two. As, I stood looking at all of the choices of curling irons, I felt overwhelmed. Yes, it just might have been that long since I bought my old curling iron, as I don't remember this many choices. I can start to feel anxiety settling in. I am shopping, I hate shopping, and I have no clue what I need to get for a curling iron. Don't forget the price - no, I refuse to spend $50 for a curling iron. I like my hair smooth, but not at that price. I don't think so. So, anxiety is setting in. I'm trying to take deep breaths to stall panic ( I do have anxiety disorder, so this is a real thing, I'm not joking here). I'm just getting a curling iron, for crying in the beer, what is the big deal? Deep breath! Why so many choices? As, I'm standing there battling the fight or flight that goes with anxiety, another customer comes down the aisle. I don't dare look up, or she will see a person with the look of a 'deer the headlight' panic and I might scare the bajeebers out of her. And, then - a hug and a smile from God. The other customer wasn't alone. The small toddler in her cart starts singing, as loud as he can: 'the wheels on the bus go round and round'. It was the only line of the song he knew, and he kept singing it. His mom hushed him, but he wasn't about to be hushed. He sang the line again, loud. It made me smile. She hushed him again. I could breathe again, listening to this child. I knew the curling iron I needed and grabbed it off the hook and put it in my cart. He sang the same line again: 'the wheels on the bus go round and round'. I'm shopping and I'm smiling. I miss the sound of a young one singing. I haven't seen my grandchildren in almost 7 years and it hurts so bad. We used to sing that song together, my grandkids and I. So, the sound of this little one singing that same line over and over, was a balm to my anxious soul and calmed me to pick out a curling iron and finish shopping. I looked at the mom, smiling and I told her to: 'let him sing, he just made my day and I was going to sing with him, but I didn't want to upset him so he'd stop singin'. She smiled back and said 'he loves that song'. I said, 'I do to, thank you'. I went on my way, with my new curling iron, even picked out some new barrettes and then went to get the groceries, all the time humming: 'the wheels on the bus go round and round.....all through the town.'

God knew I was hurting and that I hate shopping and I needed that little one singing that song. The title of my blog is when I make God smile - today, He made me smile.

When Life Was Simple - Memorial Day

As I was cleaning and cutting fruit (watermelon, cantaloupe and red grapes) for snacking over the weekend, I realized I am missing bing cherries. It's Memorial Day Weekend and growing up, we always had a family picnic on Memorial Day. Memorial weekend was for going to the cemeteries on Saturday, church on Sunday and the picnic on Monday. Grandma Hattie always had a large bowl of fresh cherries to snack on and spit the pits in the yard. Memorial weekend memories of all day picnics when I was very little with the Shanley families (my Grandma Hattie's siblings and all of their kids) in a public park and then, as we got older, part of the Shanley family gathered together at Grandma Hattie's house - the Kavanagh's (Grandma's youngest sister and her family) and all of the Kiser's, including Great Gram and the in law Grandma's (my mom's mom and my aunt's mom). Grandma and Grandpa had a tiny house and a huge double lot for a yard with a huge Weeping Willow tree in the back yard and the breezeway between the house and garage. The breezeway was just an open area that the roof was over and connected the house to the garage and a lovely breeze was always blowing through. My Dad and Uncle Don made a very long picnic table to fit perfectly under the breezeway for the whole family to sit together to eat. During the summer months, we always ate outside in the breezeway. Hmm, bugs didn't seem to bother us back then. Go figure.

It was a day of whiffle ball, croquet, annie-annie-I-over, lawn jarts (the ones that had the rounded metal tips - before they were banned for being so dangerous. We never got hurt by them. Although my cousin, Tim, did have one chase him down the yard when he stepped in front of thrower. We laughed hysterically as he ran as fast as he could and the jart just kept following him. I'm serious, it did! You could ask Tim and he'll tell you that the jart turned when he turned and was after him. He was so mad at us for laughing and rolling on the grass holding our stomachs for laughing so hard, that he refused to finish the game with us). All of the cousins, sat on quilts, not blankets, but quilts made by Great Gram (the lawn chairs were for the ladies). When we weren't playing games, we were all under the Willow tree in the shade reading, napping, talking, playing cards either on the quilt or at the picnic table in the breezeway, or climbing the tree. Grandpa's transistor radio would be on with the ball game being broadcast while Grandpa napped in his hammock. There were no cell phones, nothing electronic. No one worked on that weekend. Nothing was open except a gas station or maybe the corner store. Grandma and Grandpa's house didn't even have air conditioning! A floor fan was on in the house. The television (with only 4 local stations) was possibly on in the living room for the Dad's who went in to the living room to nap away from the noise of the kids. 😉

It was a day of family and a whole lot of food all day. And the food was on paper plates! We loved paper plates, we didn't have to wash them! Yep, no dishwasher back then. Well, there were a bunch of dishwashers - all of us girls. We ate: eggs, bacon, hash browns, donuts, toast and jelly - breakfast (all cooked on portable camping stoves or electric frying pans and we had to improvise with putting the toaster in the bathroom to make toast, as the electric frying pan plugged in an extension cord in the breezeway along with the toaster, kept popping fuses whenever we pushed down the handle on the toaster) and, yes, we made toast in the one bathroom, in that tiny house, so we wouldn't blow fuses and we thought nothing of it. I'm not sure who thought of it, but it was my sister Laurie's and our cousin Judy's job to make the toast. I think I was outside helping fry the bacon and getting hit with the grease splatters. I hopped around a lot to avoid that hot grease. I think I remember Great Gram telling me to stop hopping. If someone needed the bathroom, Laurie and Judy packed up everything and stepped out into the living room to wait for the room to open back up. I laugh now at how gross that sounds, but it didn't bother any of us. Years later, Laurie and I were lauging at the memory and wondered why they didn't just go into one of the bedrooms to make the toast. Either, the fuse would still have popped with the bedroom outlets or, you just didn't go into a bedroom except for sleeping. You just couldn't make toast in a bedroom, the bathroom yes, but not the bedroom. Okay, I am really laughing here - hope you are too. Laurie and Judy did what they had to do so we could have toast to dunk in those fried runny eggs (you never had eggs without toast) and the house was really very tiny. Then, it was hamburgers on the grill, potato salad, potato chips, baked beans, watermelon for our lunch. And, hotdogs and the leftovers from lunch for supper. Watermelon, cherries, cookies, Doo-dads (which were in a box and the best snack ever. I think Nabiso made them. They were peanuts, corn chex squares, rye chex squares, cheese tidbit sticks, maybe small pretzels - I can't remember all that was in the snack mix, but it was the best), and potato chips to snack on in between meals and to drink (besides water from the garden hose) Hamms beer for Grandpa and the men, Pepsi (Coca Cola was only for Grandpa to drink after his nap - we were never allowed to drink coke and, oh, how us kids yearned to have one of those little bottles of coke. When we grew into adulthood - we all drink coke now). And I remember when Shasta pop arrived - in a can! And that was a treat - it came in tons of different flavors! Us kids were so excited! There was coffee, iced tea, hot tea for Uncle Mike and Grandma's orange-ade (lemonade and orange juice - the most refreshing drink ever. Sadly, the orange-ade wasn't so popular when Shasta pop arrived on the scene). And, after supper, we toasted marshmallows over the hot coals on the grill, using willow sticks that were whittled to a sharp point at the end by Grandpa or one of our Dads with their pocket knives.

If only life could be that simple again. 💗 It wasn't really that long ago that life was this simple. Well, it wasn't that long ago for me. The 60's to the mid 70's really wasn't that long ago. Was it?

Now, sadly, people have to work on the holiday weekend. Families don't get along and when families do get together, cell phones are in everyone's faces. It's so sad that this world is no longer simple.

No one will know what it is to make toast in the bathroom anymore. Or eat at the picnic table in the breezeway, or lay on a homemade quilt in the shade of a weeping willow tree, or listen to the ball game on a transistor radio, have a watermelon seed or cherry pit spitting contest. Or whittle a stick off a tree to roast marshmallows. And, does anyone else remember playing annie, annie I over?

I prayed.

I saw something today that broke my heart. I was looking for a parking spot, while Mark went back in to work to get some stuff we needed. He's faster, so he shops. I simply hate shopping. So, I found a spot and had my book. As I pulled into the parking spot, I noticed the car in front of me was over loaded with someone's life - meaning, clothes, mail, etc. There was just enough room for the person to sit in the drivers seat to drive. I thought of taking a photo to show how sad our world has become, but then decided not to broadcast what could have been someone's misfortunes. As I was sitting and reading my book, another car pulled next to the one in front of me. The lady got out and was smirking and taking a photo of the inside of the car. It made me sad and mad that she was doing this, even though I thought of taking a photo myself, but the look on her face made me really mad. She got out of her big and new car, only to smirk and take a photo of someone's private living space - their car - and probably post it on a social network page for all to see and laugh at because it was in the parking lot of Walmart. I prayed. I went back to my book and looked up when I noticed someone heading towards the car in front of me. It was an elderly lady and it was her car. She put her few bags in the back of the car. She looked at me and I smiled, but there was no smile back. I looked down and wanted to cry at her sadness. What was her story? What was her name? It looked as if all of her belongings were in that car. Was she moving? Did she live out of her car? I prayed. It hit me, as I was praying, that this could be me. It could be anyone of us. I thanked my son, Mark, for choosing to live here and take over the house, for not abandoning me when others did. Again, I prayed.

What happened?

I haven't written anything in awhile and this is difficult to write, but I feel called to tell some of my story. Whether anyone sees this, or reads this, I have no clue. So here goes:

I've been battling trying to figure out things. Things like life. My life. Have you ever watched a movie, or read a book, and then asked: what the heck happened to my life? This is not what I hoped for. Not what I planned. Not what I saw for the future me. Not what I took a vow for. Where did I go wrong? I am no where I planned on being at my age.

Growing up, I only wanted to be a wife and a mom. I was, for awhile. Well, still am. Kind of. In the eyes of God and my church, I am still a wife. My husband and the courts of Minnesota don't see it that way, but I answer to God. Most family members don't see it the way I do either. I feel like I am the pathetic one. The poor one (seriously, I am poor - financially - haven't had a job in years and can't get one for some reason.) I'm shunned by my oldest son. It hurts that I am longer a member of my husbands family, even though I consider all of them my family. I feel like I am the embarrassment of the family  - whose husband cheated on her (everyone knew it but me), not out dating after the divorce when through, I don't party, Oh! I don't like gambling or bingo, I don't have a job (believe me I've tried and no one will interview me), lives in a house that is literally falling down around me, I have an autoimmune disease which doctors don't or won't diagnose and keep changing their minds, I can't even get approved for disability benefits because of my pain and anxiety disorder, I feel like the family charity case. Can't begin to explain how deeply it all hurts. I'm still a wife, in the sense, that I am upholding my marriage vows. God asked me to. After my husband announced, out of the blue, that he filed for divorce and was leaving - God knocked me to my knees and asked me to stand for my marriage and family. I said yes. It's been the hardest thing I've ever had to do. But, I trust God.

After my husband left, my spiritual journey took off. God showed me so many amazing things and my love for Him grew by leaps and bounds. At the same time, the enemy has hit and the pain has been horrible. So many things were happening, that I met with my Priest and asked him, 'What the heck is happening to me?' His answer was: 'you are falling in love with Jesus. And God has asked you to do this for a reason, it's going to be rough, but I will be here with you on this journey.'  Nine years later, he was moved to a different parish in the archdiocese and it's been difficult without his spiritual guidance. Sometimes, God removes things so you can lean more on Him. I get that and I've been trying to do that. It's hard, I am human and. sometimes, it is nice to have an answer right away or someone to talk with to help sort things out. God does help, but in His way, which is good. Just hard for us humans to understand and many times you feel very much alone. It's been very difficult as God has allowed me to learn more and more about the hurt that my husband caused. Opening my eyes? I don't know. I just have one question, and that is, 'why?' Why, God, am I going through this? Why so much hurt? Why?  Then I want to ask my husband, why. Why did he cheat on me? When he promised that he never would. Why with so many women? Why wasn't I good enough? Why was I a married single parent?  And then I ask God, why were my prayers not answered for my marriage and family?

Then my family fell apart. Literally, it fell apart. My oldest son had an argument with my Mother. Both are extremely stubborn people. I love them both, but both are stubborn. One stupid day, when they both let anger take over and that is the day my world really crumbled. I had to deal with my husbands adultery, being humiliated over and over and over with a divorce and gossip. What held me through that pain was my faith in God and my family: my 2 sons, my daughter in law and my grandkids. That day, 7 years ago, my heart was ripped out of my chest and hasn't been put back. My son accused me of taking sides in the argument - I don't take sides and I didn't take any side that day. He refused to believe me. He and his family lived with me, but from that day on - they no longer ate their meals in the kitchen and the kids were no longer allowed to be near me or allowed to come upstairs to be with me and were told, I no longer cared for them. They moved out a few months later and I think they live in a nice place in the town next to ours, I'm not sure - I've not been there. I do get glimpses of them once in awhile in town, or at the school the kids go to and my son works at. At our nephew's wedding, I walked into the reception and my grandson saw me and a look of total terror came over his face. My heart was once again ripped out of my chest. I went to look for my name to see what table I was sitting at. I found it. By myself with people I didn't know and meanwhile at another table was my husband with his 'friend', our two sons, our daughter in law and our grandkids. I prayed, I ate dinner and left and sat in the chapel and sobbed and asked God, why. Why did you ask me to stand in the gap for my marriage to be restored? You know, I recently felt like giving up and asked our new Priest if I should just file for an annulment - heavens, I have reason to - and he said adamantly: no.  He told me to trust in God, to honor my marriage vows and vocation of marriage/wife/mother. I am and it's hard.

I've often told God, that I'm not sure that He can heal the hole in my heart that was my marriage and family and trust and love. Why do we go through this pain - whether it's adultery, divorce, debilitating illnesses, illnesses that have no cure only a death sentence - why? Sometimes, we go through purgatory on earth - as my Priest friend said: it's now or later, to which I replied: it hurts. He agreed. Sometimes, God also allows us to go through these trials to polish us just as a refiner polishes silver - until he can see his face in the silver. Many times I ask: am I polished yet? Many times I also know that I am the prodigal sons brother: what about me? Or, I'm more Martha than Mary. It's not an easy road, it's a very narrow road - but it leads us to Heaven and we just have to be like the Blessed Mother Mary and trust completely in God and ponder all of these things in our hearts.

As for the title of my blog: 'When I Make God Smile' - is He smiling at me now through all of my doubt and tears and broken heart? Yeah, I think He is. It's that loving and gentle smile that a parent gives His child when they are hurting that says: I love you and I am always with you, even through all of the pain. I totally understand.

Psalm 66:10-12  For You have tried us, O God; You have refined us as silver is refined.
Luke 15:25-32 25 "Now his older son was in the field, and when he came and approached the house, he heard music and dancing. 26 "And he summoned one of the servants and began inquiring what these things could be. 27 "And he said to him, 'Your brother has come, and your father has killed the fattened calf because he has received him back safe and sound.' 28 "But he became angry and was not willing to go in; and his father came out and began pleading with him. 29 "But he answered and said to his father, 'Look! For so many years I have been serving you and I have never neglected a command of yours; and yet you have never given me a young goat, so that I might celebrate with my friends; 30 but when this son of yours came, who has devoured your wealth with prostitutes, you killed the fattened calf for him.' 31 "And he said to him, 'Son, you have always been with me, and all that is mine is yours. 32 'But we had to celebrate and rejoice, for this brother of yours was dead and has begun to live, and was lost and has been found.'"

Luke 10:38-42 38 Now as they were traveling along, He entered a village; and a woman named Martha welcomed Him into her home. 39 She had a sister called Mary, who was seated at the Lord's feet, listening to His word. 40 But Martha was distracted with all her preparations; and she came up to Him and said, "Lord, do You not care that my sister has left me to do all the serving alone? Then tell her to help me." 41 But the Lord answered and said to her, "Martha, Martha, you are worried and bothered about so many things; 42 but only one thing is necessary, for Mary has chosen the good part, which shall not be taken away from her."