Wednesday, November 19, 2008


I write here mostly about medical appointments and decline and such.

But I must make it known that I do lead a happy life, though that may not be apparent from my posts! I try here to write the reflections of someone chronically ill, with chronic central pain, so that others may read this and relate. Other readers will understand and have insight through a window they perhaps might have never seen.

But it can all end up sounding like a bit of whining and complaining, I fear.

I do have smiles and giggles and happiness in my life. I have so much for which to be thankful. I am reminded every day that I should not be alive, and such a close brush does cause a constant state of gratitude...a constant feeling of walking in grace....

Though I must humbly state that I was always one to be filled with awe and gratitude. A mountain view seen each time I drove into town never became banal to me. I have always gasped and gushed many times at the view we see when we drive to our shopping town. For twenty five miles of our journey, we pass through a National Scenic Area.

How thankful I am for my husband. Together for 35 years so far, we are best buddies and finish each other's sentences. We say something and the other says, "I was just about to say those very words!"

He is funny and witty and keeps me laughing and trying to come up with ways to cause him to smile, as well. We are compadres, partners in crime, peas in the pod, BFFs, and we know we will always be there for each other, through thick and thin, because we've already stuck through all the various "viscosities!"

I'm so appreciative of my home, which is good because I spend an awful lot of time in it. I love each wall and door, floor and ceilings and the spot it sits in; the view out each window; even the sound of cars passing by on the country road below us.

I love our town. I don't know hardly anyone in it, but I always comment on the beauty of our broad valley, the views of Mt Adams looming nearby and the far-off, snow-capped tops of Mt. St. Helens and Mt. Rainer to the west and north, and then Mt. Hood reigns over the vista to the south. The valley is flat and wide and sights of grazing cattle, wind towers on the Columbia Hills, tractors in the fields tending their winter wheat, dusty, muddy pickups in the parking lot of the grocery store with stock dogs in back, perched on top of fuel tanks that service those tractors, all pull at my heartstrings and make me feel warmly at home.

Victorian homes grace the streets. Well, some streets. There are also many small, poor homes on our streets, too, for unemployment in our little town is sky high since the aluminum plant shut down. Old cars, unrestored ones you'd never see on the streets of California with its strict emissions laws, park in front of the $1 store (The General Store); the thrift store; the senior center; the hardware store; the Chinese/American restaurant; or one of two lackluster bars on Main Street.

How I love our court house. Here, in a poor, farming county, we have a fascinating piece of art deco architecture that simply amazes me. I'll take a photo some time and share it here.

Our road as it leads from town delights my soul. The Ponderosa Pines and the oaks, always in a state of flux, frame the paved road and, right now, wood smoke rises from many of the homes' chimneys, and the sight and smell of this makes me take a deep, grateful sigh. I am at home.

I have so much for which to be thankful, each moment of the day. And I am, pretty much, in that state of gratitude. Thank You, Lord!

And I just want my friends to know that.

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