Skip to main content

Time-warp wrap up






I feel like it's going to be Thanksgiving and Christmas and 2017 in rapid succession. It really feels to me like since I drove the kids home from California this summer, we've been in a fast-forward time warp.

Friday and Saturday were the culmination and fruition of 2+ months of soap-making and 2+ weeks of marketing, packaging, printing and prepping. The Front Porch Pickins Vintage and Handmade Market at the University of Phoenix Stadium in Glendale hosting hundreds of vendors, including my little Goats Make Soap Co. booth, was from 9-7 on Friday and 9-4 on Saturday. Thursday was about 8 hours of unloading and setup and Saturday after 4pm was about 4 hours of packing up and loading. 

In total, weeks of hours was put into this event and it paid off.  I learned some things, had great interactions with new customers, was blessed with visits from friends and made triple in sales what I was hoping for.  I think I'll do it again in February and won't be nearly as stressed about it before hand now that I know what to expect.

My dear neighbor, Laura, volunteered to help me through the whole process in exchange for keeping her in soap. Deal! And I'm sure I got the better end of that bargain, because I would not have been standing upright on the floor of the Cardinals stadium setting up a booth on Thursday if it wasn't for her! I see a good friendship developing there. Thank you Lord!

In the weeks leading up to this event I sold my last two milking does and went to part time (24 hours a week) at work. I was also offered an opportunity to apply for a wound nurse position at my hospital (which I will be applying for tomorrow), which is a half-time position (20 hrs a week). I also applied to ASU's RN to BSN online program which I will be following up on tomorrow to find out the next step.

The Friday before last my mother in law found out she has stage 3 duodenal cancer, which is so rare the doctors are treating it as small bowel cancer because they really don't know how to treat it. This came as a big surprise. She starts chemotherapy next week and I will be flying out to stay with her for a couple days the week of Thanksgiving.

I'm tired and ready to call it a day after a nail-biting baseball tournament day with Connor and coffee with dear friends this evening.

I am finding that there are no A+B=C explanations for why God does what he does. At least those kinds of linear, clear, neat explanations don't satisfy me. But a look at the cross of Christ does. A look up at an all-powerful, sovereign, good and holy God gets my eyes off why and on what. What do you want me to do? What do you want me to learn? And even more that that, it takes the questions off the table, at least for awhile, and causes me just forget myself and be in awe of one greater than me and my circumstances. To get lost for a moment in the wonder of God and his plan for the universe and little speck of dust me... to think about the fact that I am his creature, he made me, in his image, and for his glory... The whys and the whats fall off the radar and I can look back down at where I'm at in life and have a sense of peace that says, "All will be well because I am His and He is mine."




Quieted,
Sheila

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

eyes on the Author- the every morning struggle to walk by faith

I don't wake up full of vision and motivation.  Actually, what motivates me most is the idea that my french press and single-origin coffee from Guatemala are just minutes away from awaking my senses with it's warm, toasty aroma.  And on those days when I get my stiff, puffy-eyed body out of bed and make my way to the cabinet to prep the press with my favorite coffee and find we're out, I feel great motivation to get dressed and drive to the local store so I can hurry up and get back home before too much time has passed and get my coffee going.

Basically, coffee motivates me to get up in the morning.

Mixed in the grogginess between eyes open and that first cup of coffee I remember who I am.

I am not my own.  I am a Christian.  The weight of meaning in that word falls on me like gravity on the fledgling attempts of a young eagle to fly every morning.

I feel myself falling.  Falling. Squawking out a cry, "Help!  Help Lord!  I am yours. Let me hear your loving kindness…

post anesthesia thoughts

(has nothing to do with the post, just a pretty pic i took a long time ago)
I'm not going to over think this post too much.  I had minor surgery today and am still feeling drunk on leftover anesthesia/fentanyl/percocet.  Consider yourself and the three other people reading this warned.
In the past few weeks I've been listening to podcasts from writers, reading articles about blogging and freelance writing, etc.  In one of those I was admonished to write something daily.  Be it a blog post, a journal entry, a poem... something.  Because writers don't just think about writing, they write.  I think my pastor said or wrote that once too.  It struck me then, and when I read this lady's article.  I am a writer.  Not a known writer.  Not the best writer.  But I enjoy writing and I just process life better when I'm writing.  But when I set out to write something, especially publicly, I sometimes step in the quicksand of self-analyzing and get stuck there.  And then I don&#…

An Unlikely 23 Years

Wedding Day- Sept.4, 1993
Connor's birthday- April 1, 2003
During our first separation and pregnancy with Ryland- November 2004
Seeking a new start in Arizona all together- October 2005
 Second separation March 2010
Still together on a desert trail- Spring 2015
Today has been a tough day, emotionally.

Twenty three years ago today I made a vow before God and about 100 family and friends to take James as my husband, to have and to hold from that day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and health, till death do us part.

Those are some serious promises.  Better, worse, richer and poorer, sickness and health have all been part of these 23 years.  Honestly, most of it has been hard.  We weren't a very likely match at 19 and 21.  He from the big city, me from a small town.  His dad a pharmacist, mine a log truck driver.  We met in a child development class, taking pre-reqs for nursing.  He hated it.  I loved it.  He had long hair and torn jeans and l…