Trash and Treasures

I have heard it said many times that one mans trash is the treasure of another.  But sometimes it still is just trash.  We recently purchased some storage units.  They are in good shape structurally, but need some TLC.  Some cosmetic help.  Some clean-up.  So once more my friend Crispin and I were working on a project.  This was by far the dirtiest project we have done and we were so glad to be done with it.  Often we wondered why in the world people would leave _____________?  Several units had been totally abandoned and just needed cleaned out.  We rented a dump trailer and filled it 5 times in a day and a half.  You know it is bad when the ladies who weigh your truck in and out at the dump know you!   There was simply a lot of trash.  One unit was full of boxes of hangers.  Several of just garbage.  Stuff in boxes.  Stuff loose.  Bills. Pictures. Clothing. Papers. Toys. Shoes. A fake Christmas tree. Baskets. Boxes. Bins. More paper. Cans. Bottles. Tires. We did not find any treasure.  We were not looking too hard though.  We did look in the purses for money.  Didn't find any.  But we were not sorting.  We were not really interested.  We were cleaning out junk and fast.  It was hot and I am sure we did not smell too good.  I have laughed though at how many people have asked me if we sorted through it to find treasure.  "haven't you seen that show ...."  No I haven't seen the show and even if I had I don't think I would have changed my tune.  We were getting rid of someone else's trash and it was not treasure... just trash. 

When we were just down at my Grandpas funeral my husband went up to Grandpas neighbor who had been keeping some stuff for Grandpa.  We thought a box or two and two chainsaws.  Instead the whole back of my pickup was full.  And they did not bring some of the stuff that clearly was already just trash.  But maybe in the stuff he brought there would be some treasure.  There was.  Some of both.  Some tins of food - with my Grandma's writing from before her stroke!  At least 8 years old.  But antique tins.  Throw out the contents.  A bunch of tools.  Some I am sure belonging in a museum.  Treasures.  Trash.  Sometimes the line between the two is very fine!  And other times like at our storage units it is very definite. 

Reserve Tank

The truck I drove as a new driver had dual fuel tanks.  My Dad - who traveled many thousands of miles on many of those "in the middle of nowhere" type of roads told me to always switch tanks when your first tank was down to 1/4.  That was the reserve.  You still had 1/4 of a tank to get to fuel.  To not have to walk.  I used it a few times and was always grateful that I listened to that wise advise.  Once driving from Paradise Valley to Lakeview I planned to fill up in Denio.  There was no fuel there.  So either turn and go back to Winnemucca or keep going.  I used up most of my reserves on that trip but was glad that I had a reserve tank.  I didn't run out of gas though. 
I think all my personal reserve tanks have been drained in my life over the last three years.  I like having a buffer in my life.  That reserve that keeps me a ways from the edge.  A little protection from hitting the wall.  It seems that all of life has gotten more raw.  LIFE HAPPENS!  That extra five minutes that I like to have don't always happen.  The extra $20 in my wallet isn't always there.  I always seem to have tears though.  The extra bit of sure I can take on that responsibility or that project is definitely gone.  Life keeps happening.  Reserve is supposed to be there to soften those bumps.  To give the extra padding to a rough road.  To help you get to point B.  I think loosing two close Grandparents and a much loved Dad in under 3 years has drained that tank or tanks.  I get blindsided by people, things, responsibilities, questions, thoughts, ideas and just life.  It seems that all of life has many more twists and turns.  There are the "what - if" questions.  The I should or I shouldn't statements.  The Is this really true questions.  The is it worth it thoughts.  All those things that have been buffered by the deep roots of a deep reserve that is now down.  At church the other day we sang a song that said I will not be shaken.  But I felt like I have been.  Like my life has shaken to its roots.  Not that I am wavering on those roots.  But they have been shaken.  They are being tested.  Some days I fail and those roots pull up.  Some days the roots go in deeper.  But the reserves are in need of some space.  Some refilling.  Some time.  Some healing.  So I guess I need to learn to dance in the rain and the storms of life.  Get the tanks filled back up.  Get a Reserve tank filled again.

 

Life isn't about waiting for the storms to pass... Its about learning to Dance in the rain!

Heavenly deposits

This last few years, I have made some big heavenly deposits. It has thrown lots of curve balls into my life.  Stress... Grief .... lack of sleep.... all of the above .... throw interesting bits of LIFE into us.  I have asked more questions, gotten fewer answers over the last few years than any time of my life.  Had new challenges... New questions... Odd thoughts.... Crazy dreams.... Life is interesting. 

As I have gone through this time of life, I have signed up for a daily email about life, death, grief.  Always have interesting ones that come.  Letting me know that my current struggles are the same that many people have felt since the beginning of time. Today's was so true.  So simple.  The truth of the million dollar question.  How do I get to heaven?

The Road to Heaven  Day 279

Do you know how to get to heaven?

The Bible clearly states there is only one way to get to heaven: "Jesus answered, 'I
am the way and the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father except through
me'" (John 14:6).

A person cannot enter heaven through good deeds and moral behavior. You cannot enter
heaven by attending church or by having Christian parents: "This [is] not from
yourselves, it is the gift of God-not by works, so that no one can boast" (Ephesians
2:8-9).

Eternal life is a free gift from God, but it is only given to those people who believe in
and surrender control of their lives to Jesus.

"He who believes in the Son [Jesus] has eternal life" (John 3:36 NASB).

*Lord, I want to make sure that I'm going to heaven. And I want to live each day with the
knowledge of my eternal destination. Thank you, God. Amen.*
I know that sometimes I wonder.  I have questioned.  But the surety of that hope is what I have also clung to.  Accepting that gift. 

Sounds.....Scents ....Memories......

Three years ago while we were attending the county fair I got a phone call that jolted and changed my life.  Seemed to start the beginning of a time of stretching, growing, falling, crying, getting up, getting knocked down and out, a time of grief.  My Grandma, who had just had surgery, which had gone well and things were looking good for had gone into a comma that she would not awake from.  Last week, I got the same phone call, but this time about my Grandpa.  This was a little more expected, but still just as hard of news.  3 major people in my life all gone in a 3 year time frame.  I guess the light that seemed be getting brighter in the tunnel was another train.  I think that I will always have that feeling of being on a tilt-a-whirl now when I am at the county fair.  Like life is spinning out of control.  Hearing the screams from the "zipper" carnival ride in one ear while hearing that your life is changing in a drastic way in the other. 

Scent is a powerful memory trigger.  The fresh cut smell of grass reminding you of summer.  The smell of rain showers on sagebrush. The scent of roses. The smell of a nursing home. This evening my husband got out the chainsaw to cut a piece of wood for a friend who was over.  That scent takes me back.  All my life we have had wood stoves to heat our houses so wood cutting has always been important.  Both of my Grandpas were Tree Farmers.  The smells and sounds associated with cutting wood with a chain saw brings back flashes of memories from all my life.  Cutting logs with my Grandpa Glenn.  Trimming trees with Grandpa Gene.  Hauling wood with my Dad.  It was interesting as I was almost crying just because the load of memories that scent dropped on my heart.  I love the smell, but so many people associated with that smell have gone on before me.   The memories are good, but they still hurt.  My emotional reserves have been depleted.  The memories hit hard and at odd times for odd reasons.  Life is interesting. 

Life is a canvas - throw all the paint on it you can!      - Kaye