Choose Life. . .

Bill McKenna has said: "Life is not a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in one pretty and well- preserved piece,
but to skid across the line broadside, thoroughly used up, worn out, leaking oil, shouting GERONIMO!"

Moses said: "...therefore, choose life..." (Deuteronomy 30:19).

I choose life - with all its choices, challenges and changes!

How about you?

Friday, June 10, 2011

Coming Home

10 JUNE 2011

After my last post someone asked what I had been doing for the ten months that I hadn’t blogged. Actually I edited and tweaked my novel, THE TENTH MONTH, which has nothing at all to do with the ten months I didn't blog.

In November, after more than 50 years in California, I moved with my son and his wife to Nevada. Bumper stickers here insist “NOT Ne-vah-dah” thank you very much. We arrived the week before Thanksgiving. It snowed the night we moved in. That’s not necessarily news to half the country, but it was fun for us.

So it was getting ready for Thanksgiving – and unpacking.

In December it was getting ready for Christmas – and unpacking.

In January it was joining and getting acquainted with a new writers’ group – Reno Christian Writers – and unpacking.

In February it was getting personally “remodeled” – new “helps” for seeing, hearing and chewing – and unpacking.

In March it was re-evaluating and refining the living space, displaying artifacts, shelving books, hanging pictures – making my space my own – hey the unpacking’s done!

In April it was a trip to Bakersfield (CA) to visit second son and his wife, and to attend a baby shower for long awaited second grandchild!

In May, said grandchild, Jake Taylor Hudson, arrived – not that I had much to do with that – but give me a break.

In November, as we drove into Nevada from California, I behaved like a tourist, taking pictures of everything I saw: the beautiful fall scenery, the vista of the mountains far ahead, growing nearer as the miles passed, snow on the ground, my first glimpse of Donner Pass I had heard of only in history books, the descent into our valley. I had only seen pictures of the new house which was to become my new address.

In April, coming back from the California visit, spring greenery graced the hills and valleys in spite of the snow remaining on the crests. I remarked to my daughter-in-law who was driving, “This time it feels like we’re coming home.”

Home can be anywhere if you choose to make it so. I choose...

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