I have been sorting paper.  I was motivated because my daughter Becky does big estate sales and always has to go through tons of paper that has been left over from a lifetime, and I don’t want her to have to sort through all of mine when the time comes. (That sounds depressing--no...I’m not depressed, I am motivated.) It is amazing all of the stuff we keep-and the reasons we haven’t thrown it away.  

I put all of my transcripts in a folder.  My mom was always wanting me to make perfect grades and I guess I kept the transcripts to say, “I did it.”  Who cares anymore...I’m not applying for a job.  And there are a zillion release forms from hospitals and doctor’s offices.  Why do I have all of that.  But the things I haven’t thrown away are the notes my children wrote to me.  Those are priceless.  And the notes from a creative writing class I took...I had forgotten that I had written stuff a long time ago.  But there are bags and bags of paper that is useless.  And the things I am keeping are in files with titles on the file.  At least I’ll know where to find the useless stuff I am keeping.  Even if I don’t know why I’m keeping it.

I have a number of sweaters that I slip on when it is cool.  My three favorites are cotton.  And the cuffs of all three are ragged and torn.  Chewed would be a better word.  For some reason, Molly loved to chew on cuffs and buttons.  She was very selective.  Now when I put one of those sweaters,  I know that Molly was there.  I feel love.

No!!!  I won’t throw them out.  If people think I am tattered and lowlife, that’s okay with me.  I know I am special.  Once upon a day, a dog loved me.  And I loved her.  And she chewed up my sweaters because they were mine.

I will get another sweater someday.  But there will never be another Molly.

When we see those pictures on TV of the devastation that tornados do, it is hard to imagine what those families are going through.  But Saturday, my friend Carolyn Brown’s son Paul lost everything.  The wind leveled his home and killed his two dogs.  But he and his wife got underground.  It is heart-breaking. There is nothing left standing.  Where will they begin?

We think in terms of “things,” but how do you even prove who you are with no birth certificates.  Or what you can prove you owned--without papers for insurance.  What a mess.  What a loss.  We can be thankful they are alive, but my heart breaks for what they are going to have to go through putting their lives back together.

Where do you start?  God will be with them, but there will be times when they will not know which way to turn next.  Please pray for them.

 Carolyn called me first thing this morning to give me the horrible news.  The tornado that tore through Claremore came to the west of Pryor and destroyed her son Paul’s home.  Nothing is  left.  She sent me a picture of it.  Horrible. Horrible.  But because her son’s grandson was staying with them, he felt the boy’s parents would want them to take cover, so Paul took them to the cellar.  They barely made it.  Their dogs didn’t.  Last I heard, some of the cows didn’t either.

You see pictures on the news of things like that, but when it is one of your own, it takes on an entirely new meaning. Besides all of the physical things, there are papers.  Birth certificates.  Deeds.  Etc. etc.,  that will take months to replace. Pryor is a small town, so everyone will help, but still...what a terrible thing.  But they are alive.  That--in the end--is what is important.  Everyone wants to help.  But what can you do?  People have already gathered and are gleaning the fields, looking for things...and things are turning up.  But...a lifetime of memories are gone.  Tornados all over the USA are tearing up lives.  It is real and tragic when one hits home.  

I have been digging and transporting flowers that have overgrown their environment.  They come back every year and were from my mother’s garden.  I give them away when they have invaded the rest of the flower bed.  Too much of a good thing.

It’s Friday.  I get my hair done on Fridays.  There is less and less hair to do!  Last week I told her to cut it short.  She did and there isn’t much left.  I got a perm so that disguises the thinness somewhat.

Why in the world am I writing about hair!!!  I was telling you about transplanting and got sidetracked.  When I dug up some of the hen and chickens succulents, the container was full of ants and they crawled all over me.  It’s an hour later and I am still fighting ants.  Luckily they weren’t fire ants--which I hear are in the area I live in.  Last year I brought the containers in for the winter, and had an entire ant family of ants come in for the winter.  They stayed in the containers most of the time occasionally tromping into the kitchen for crumbs.  I tolorated them until the got on the cabinents--that was a bridge too far and I put the containers outside.  And everything froze.  Except the ants.  You can’t kill a nest of ants--they just dig deeper and wait until you give up.  I guess it’s a live and let live situation.  If I try and kill them, I kill the plants.

 Rain.  Lots of it.  My flower beds are beautiful.  And Ken Jack, my great grandson who is two and a half, (named after his great- grandfather)  came over and planted okra in my raised garden.  (A garden that I had given up on this year.)  Last year, when the okra got three inches out of the ground, something ate the stalks.  That had never happened before.  I guess it was rabbits.  I decided that was it.  I was through.  So Ken planted.  And his mother took him to Lowes and they got tomato plants and planted those as well.

It is good.  It seemed a shame to let all the money I had spent on getting a raised garden go to waste.  But I’m just not up to it this year.  I took a picture of him with a tomato plant in his hand bending over to help put it in the ground.

We used to take “real” pictures.  And the family--when they got together-- would sit around and look at them and remember.  But now, all the pictures are on someone’s phone and nobody looks at them together.  I miss “real” pictures.  I miss sitting around looking at memories together.  I miss a lot of things from the past. 

Becky is working an estate sale (setting it up) and the owners said she couldn’t bring her dog while she was doing it.  Emmy Lou always goes with Becky to work.  So, anyway, Emmy Lou is with me this week, and I’m not doing everything exactly to suit her.  I’m trying, but I need a little time to figure out her dog language.  It has been good to have a dog underfoot.  I’ve been so lonesome for Molly.  Emmy and I are working it out.

I went to the optometrist this morning and my eyes haven’t gotten any worse!!!  I didn’t have to buy new glasses.  Every morning when I wake up, I use the first few minutes to thank God for what is good in my life.  My feet don’t hurt.  My knees are good. (Everyone I know is replacing their knees and hips lately.) My fingers don’t have arthritis so I can type very easily. I have perfect hearing. If I don’t start the day with the things that are right, I’ll give too much attention to what is wrong.  We have so much to be thankful for.  I’m doing okay for 86. 

During this time that I have been so sick, I have taught my class at the church by using the phone and connecting everyone.  The problem with that is that you can’t see their faces.  I had never taught by phone before, and I didn’t know how much I depended on their facial reactions when I made a statement.

Now I know.  It’s extremely important.  Slight motion.  Slight raising of an eyebrow.  Slight flipping a page of a Bible.  Just a huge number of small motions that allow a teach to move on to the next point--or expanding on what you are saying.

I went to church Sunday, taught my class and was thankful to be there in person.  The discussion was good.  The faces were expressive.  I don’t ever want to have to teach by phone again.  But the women in the class understood that I was not able to be there and by phone was better than not connecting at all.  It was so good to be in the house of the Lord.

Seven days.  A week ago at 8:00 in the morning.  I have got to  quit grieving and get myself together.

I called a breeder Ann knows and asked them if they had a female Schnauzer that needed to stop having. puppies.  Schnauzers don’t shed and love to cuddle.  I don’t want a male dog.  Squig just about ruined the dust ruffles on my loveseats before I caught him--and explained the “Way of the Lord” to him. 

Since I quit blogging (I was just too sick to do it and stick with it) last year,  I have thought of a zillion things to say.  But this morning, I don’t  know where I stored those things in my brain.

I did find out that “The Letter” has made the third cut for a national award as a recommendation for book clubs to read.  That’s exciting.  It’s nice to have made the final list.  Maybe it will be chosen.  But I am thrilled that it made the list.  

 Pat found Molly on a dirt road in the country a year or so ago.  She was just sitting in the middle of the road, lost.  Someone had abused her. kicked her teeth in.  She had a broken rib and open sores.  And of course, Pat picked her up and brought her to me.  Healing began.  

Over the last year she learned a number of things.  Sit, come, get in your crate,  let me put your leash  on you. Get in the car.  She would bark to go outside.  But she wasn’t always obedient when we would walk on a leash...too many things to discover and sniff.

Every morning, I look for her, then remember she is gone.  She was  my friend.  She liked for me to talk to her and would cock her head from one side to the other as if she knew what I was saying.  Giving into me was a really big deal because she was so independent.  But she chose...chose...to do the things I asked her to do.  She chose me.  I was loved.

She is now in charge of the dogs in heaven.  She has probably rounded them up and is explaining how things should be done.  And she has her eye on the gate...waiting on me.

On Monday, I took Molly to the groomer on a leash.  As we were going in, she  broke loose, ran into a main throughway and was killed instantly.  My heart is breaking.  I still haven’t been able to stop crying.  When I wake up in the morning, I reach for her on my feet and she isn’t there and I start to weep.

She was just a puppy, undisciplined, but learning.  She had decided in the last few months that she trusted and loved me and would curl up every night at 6:00 and go to sleep with her head under my chin, snuggled up against my chest.  At peace.

She was a rescue--when Pat brought her to me ,she had been beaten, had broken ribs, scars, and wounds.  She was scared, leery of people, hiding in corners...but slowly, love brought her around.  She was a mess....and I loved her.  She didn’t want to go to the groomer, asserted herself, ran in the road and it was all over in a second.  I picked her up and she was lifeless.  Limp.  Molly was gone and my heart is broken.   There are animals in heaven.  Lambs and Christ is coming on a horse.  Molly will be trotting beside Him, looking for me.

 In October last year, I became sick.  Very ill.  Everything I was doing fell by the wayside--including blogging.  I was so sick and nothing helped.  I was hospitalized, in the emergency room over and over and I basically gave up and decided that this was the way it was going to be.  I’m 86 years old, so it was easy to shut down and accept it.

But last week they hospitalized me again, and my brother Bill told me to have them give me a certain medication.  The doctors listened and after months and months of horrible illness, I feel normal---what ever that is for my age.  I’ve had four bearable days in a row...Praise God.  I’m going to try and blog again.  I’ve probably lost half of my readers, but maybe they will find me again.

I wish everyone had a brother like mine.  His brain is like a camera.  He sees something, records it and never forgets it.  The rest of our family are normal.  The reason nobody prescribes the med that he wanted me to take is because a dosage term costs $2660.  Bill called the Navy and explained that they were spending more on me for hospitalizations than the drug cost and they reduced it.  Praise God.  It has made all the difference.  I’m back.  I hope.  I hope...hope.