To breathe or not to breathe - oh the choices we must make...

For the second time in two weeks, or more precisely 11 days, I have had a sinus migraine that nothing seems to help dissipate.  I used to take Sudafed until I was in my 40’s.   Then I started having a little problem after I took the Sudafed so I went to my husband’s urologist. He didn’t think it was funny when I told him my symptoms were identical to any man over 40 that you catch talking in the restroom.  Well, I didn’t really overhear them in the restroom but it is what they say.  But after a very expensive uncomfortable and for me scary outpatient procedure (OK, so it wasn’t really that bad, but for me anything near a doctor or hospital constitutes scary and uncomfortable) my doctor said not to take Sudafed anymore because it makes my prostate swell up real big and I can’t, as my sweet grandma would say – make water. OK, you got me, he didn’t exactly say that but he did say not to take Sudafed anymore if I want to use the water closet.    Then I figured out 3 Advil and some coke and voila!  In less than 10 minutes, complete relief from upset tummy and all other sinus issues.  Now, nothing seems to work and my head just spins.  Well not exactly my head, but what’s inside my head.  So imagine all those weird thoughts and conversations I have in my head and then putting them on that little merry-go-round that you played on as a kid and then you will see my problem.  It’s kind of a cross between being pregnant and a 3 day drunk.  Although I don’t recall ever being on a 3 day drunk, this is what I think it would feel like.  So, to P or not to P?   (haha, my attempt at Shakespearian humor)  Yep, I did.   I just took the Sudafed and ahhh.. the sweet relief of breathing!  Hey, a girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do.  I will deal with tomorrow when tomorrow comes!

And that my friends, is  Life Wtih Cheryl on the Northern Neck! 

Books and Me!

What a senior moment when technically I'm not even a senior yet.  I wanted to post a status on FB and decided it was rather long so I would just blog it.  By the time my computer loaded my blog site, I had already thought so many other things that now I have forgotten what I was going to say that I thought was worthy of your time!  Oh, now I remember...

I have realized that I should be very careful of what I read.  Several years ago, I think it might even have been close to 4 by now, our fearless leader of my famous Micah Ladies (or infamous?  just kidding ladies!) decided we would read "Quaker Summer" by Lisa Samson for our devotion studies.  It was life changing for me and my family.  Me? Because I read it and God spoke to me.  My family?  Because clearly I heard God tell me to give all of our dishes (among other things) to a family that was victim to a house fire and buy 3 plastic plates and 3 plastic bowls to use until we moved.  The rest of that story is for another day.   This past week I read "Ireland Rose" by Patricia Strefling set in the 1800's.  Many of their meals were described as pulling off a chunk of bread, a hunk of cheese and an apple.  Last week I picked up a loaf of delicious looking Pumpernickle bread from the Walmart bakery.  For lunch the past few days I have enjoyed a chunk of bread, a hunk of cheese and an apple.  Yes, I have walked on the wild side - I did not cut off a slice of bread, I just tore off a nice large piece.  No butter, mayo, or other spreads:  after all they weren't used in the book either.  It has been a welcome change from sandwiches, yogurt, or peanut butter crackers.  So, I'm wondering what my next novel and adventure will be about.  Any suggestions for a good book?  Please just keep in mind that I will imitate some part of the book so please be careful with your suggestions!!

And that my friends, is another day in the Life with Cheryl!

Just another day in the Northern Neck for me...

1st - my husband's birthname is Calvin but we have always called him Skip.  No idea why, it just is what it is.

2nd - the only reason I mention the race of the below individuals is because it will explain my faux pax to a point.

3rd - I try hard.  I really do.

Monday a Hispanic man came in from company A to pick up his order and I said "Hey Salvador"!  He said "I'm not Salvador, I'm Julian."  So I asked him who was Salvador; and he said a guy that works for company B.  Tuesday a black man comes in from company B and I said "Hey Salvador!".  He said "I aint Salvado".  So I said "who the heck is Salvador then anyway?!!"   He said some Mexican that works for us.  I asked him his name and he said "Calvin".  I said great, no way I'll forget your name, it's the same as my husband's.  I'm off on Wednesdays so on Thursday when he came in for his order, I smiled really big and said "Hey Skip! How ya doing?"  He looked at me weird (weirder than on Tuesday when I called him Salvador) and said "Who?".  I said "Skip".  He asked who Skip was and I said stop teasing me,  I know your name is Skip - it's the same as my husband's.  He shook his head and said "no, my name is Calvin."  Friday Calvin came in and .....just kidding, I finally got it right, along with a big "ole smile from him.  I still don't know who the heck Salvador is but I must tell you that Jose and Ubaldo get a kick out of never knowing what's coming out of my mouth!  They are teaching me Spanish and I have an auditory issue.....  hmm... I think that will be a blog for another day!!

And that my friends, is another day in the Live with Cheryl on the Northern Neck : )

Goose Honks, Anxiety and me…o

I wanted to title this blog:  Way to condition the nose hairs.  But then I decided I didn’t really want to post that title for the world to see; only my dear friends that miss my every day antics and the Northern Neck peoples that haven’t gotten (ew.. stinky English but I’m tired) to see that side of me yet.  

This is a day in the Life of Cheryl. 

First, I didn’t fall asleep until after 4:30 a.m. when DH arose to go hunting.  In preparation for his trip to go bird hunting, he serenaded me all night with what Katy has named:  the goose honk.  It is much worse than regular snoring; trust me on this one.  Then I had to get up early to go to the doctors.  Well early for me when I haven’t slept.  This is a good doctor but you must allow several hours for your appointment as he takes his time with his patients.  And I mean he takes his time; trust me on this one too – but hey, this is the Northern Neck and they have a whole definition of time.  It’s called a northern neck minute and it can be a long minute; kinda like when you tell your kids to wait a minute…. 

A short review of my doctor’s appointment is (and I only break doctor/patient confidentially b/c it’s part of my day today):  He prescribed medicine to temporarily slow my pulse down b/c when it’s fast, it creates anxiety which creates higher pressure… well you get the picture.  I’m not a germaphobe; technically, but probably close.  As the doctor is leaving I ask if he has something that will help heal the cracked skin on my thumb.  He examined it, closely, and then said (didn't ask, just stated):  you wash your hands a lot with soap.  I agreed.  He then told me to just “wash” them with water.  Soap and those alcohol hand sanitizers strip the oils from your hands.  So, to review my appointment, I was prescribed medicine to lessen my anxieties and then told to not use soap, like that won’t create anxiety for me!  I used the restroom before I left.  I looked at the sink, the soap, and the paper towels and carefully recalled the doctor’s words.  And….  haha gotcha!   I washed my hands; I’ll deal with the cracked skin. 

Before dinner Katy and I were going for our daily walk.  We decided to take the dog.  No words are necessary; after all, a picture is worth a thousand words.

Now finally, on to the incident that pushed me to write this little tale.  I was taking my shower (yeah, I ignored the doctor again and used more soap) and only wanted to condition the ends of my hair.  Since I just bought one of those fancy 2 shower heads one of which has a long flexible hose, I bent over to rinse the ends.   But apparently I didn’t aim right and the water and conditioner ran right up my nose.  And that my friends, is a day in the Life of Cheryl! 

Prayer Shawls, God's Will and one stubborn Cheryl

Tonight the Lord was truly on the second floor of the Material Girl Quilt Shop in Reedville VA!  I have thought for the past 18 months that God had decided to move me (a little unwillingly I might add) to The Northern Neck of Virginia to help start a "crisis" pregnancy center to give girls and women who find themselves with an unwanted pregnancy a place to go for help.  However, after 3 hours tonight on the second floor of the Material Girl Quilt Shop I have to wonder if that pregnancy center was really my will and just maybe not God's.  Tonight was the first meeting of a new group (we forgot to name ourselves) of ladies who love to quilt and eat.  There were 7 of us tonight; from Episcopalians, to Baptists, to Methodists, to even someone that doesn't attend church right now, but all alike in our desire to quilt prayer shawls for hurting people.  We are an ecumenical group of ladies (from 18 to ah shucks, somethings are just not necessary to reveal) brought together by God's hand in His timing.  We prayed, we talked, we laughed, we ate and at next month's meeting we plan to even sew! Afterall, that was the whole point of getting together tonight - to sew prayer shawls.  We just didn't realize how many things had to be ironed out first - haha get it - ironed out? Ok, so I'm a little punch happy after a very long hot day! 


About 5 years ago, just by chance (haha we all know it really wasn't chance!!) I was substituting in an office of the Gettysburg High School and there was a lady who was crocheting a prayer shawl during her lunch break.  I was intrigued and immediately a sweet church member that was dying of cancer came to my mind.  Off to the store that night for yarn, I began my journey with prayer shawls.  Two weeks later, I delivered it to their house only days before she died; her family was so touched by the prayers and I was hooked on making prayer shawls.   It gives me a way of touching people when I don't have the words to.  Months later we had changed churches but again, a dear lady received a cancer diagnosis.  You know the lady at church that knows everyone and everything going on?   That was Ginny. Once again, I was deeply moved by how touched someone was from simply 3 skeins of yarn bound together with prayers for their recovery.  It seems like such a small thing.  I learned a very valuable lesson that next week.  Never mention an idea to the pastor if you don't want to do it!  Well 2 and a half years, 100 shawls later, when I was called to move 4 hours away, I had to leave behind a wonderful group of  energetic, talented ladies that had knitted, crocheted, and woven many many prayers into beautiful treasures for hurting, sick, and grieving people. 


Fast forward to my first year on "The Neck".  I was so sure of God's will for me that I have kept ignoring what I now think has been His will all along.   Prayer shawls, prayer shawls and more prayer shawls.   Over the past year, I supplied our pastor with a few prayer shawls anonymously.  Well, one of the first things to learn in a small community where everyone is either related to, married in to the family or friends with them is that nothing is anonymous!  Still sure that I was not supposed to start another prayer shawl ministry, I have kept plugging along trying to figure out how to get this other thing going.  At my church, there are already 2 ladies (plus me)  making prayer shawls and yet I have still been sure that I wasn't supposed to do prayer shawls, because there was this other ministry that God wanted me to start!


Fast forward once again to a "chance" day at the quilt shop when everything fell into place at once to line up this meeting tonight where 7 woman gathered and prayed, and talked, and laughed, and ate, and planned together to do God's will.  


And tonight I felt close to God; more so then any day since I moved here.  Funny how that happens when you stop running from Him!

Technology. Me. Sigh…

 Heck, skip the sigh; and come laugh with me...

Since I don’t really have any neighbors within hollering distance; haven’t made many friends yet; my daughter went and grew up and now works for a living; and my DH is having a little trouble with hearing, I find myself frequently carrying on conversations in my head.  I didn’t really think it was a problem because no one could actually prove it was happening.  This past week I thought I really needed to get busy and write some blogs; my friends are putting me to shame with all their blogging.  So as DH and I spent last week cutting up dead trees and stacking the firewood, I wrote several fantastic funny blogs.  Then the next several days I spent wondering, why I hadn’t heard from my friends about these great inspirational blogs I had written.  Even kind of pouted and and threw a pity party for myself.  Then it hit me; yep, had written them in my head and promptly forgotten about actually putting the words to paper and posting them.   So after a great laugh, I began thinking about some of my techno bloopers and realized they happen on a regular basis - kind of another aspect of "Life with Cheryl"!  Maybe you even have caught yourself with some of these. 

            Listening to the radio and when you miss what someone said you reach toward it to hit the rewind button? ….  Although if you don’t have DVR on your TV you won’t understand this…).

            Watching a show and when the commercial comes on get frustrated with the clicker because it won’t fast forward and then you realize it’s live TV and not recorded.  If you haven’t done that you must not have the DVR option!

            Take the time to write a newsy email to a friend and get a little irritated when you don’t hear back from them only to log in to your email account several days later  and notice:  drafts (1).  To make it worse, I think, hmm why do I have a draft….?       

            Put a delicious dinner on the table one night and find the gravy in the microwave when you go to make your oatmeal the next morning?

            Had my car keys in my pocketbook and while trying to dig them out managed to push the “alarm” button while groping around so the alarm screeches while you’re in a panic still trying to pull them out of your pocketbook?

Was so proud of myself when I figured out how to make my friends ringtone the snappy tune from Mama Mia, only to realize during the pastor’s benediction on a Sunday morning that I hadn’t remembered to turn my phone off that was in my purse under the pew…

Wondering why no one commented on some of my really funny FB status' and just figured out the other day I somehow had set ALL my status updates to only be published to 3 particular people.  Even worse, I can't imagine what I would have originally posted (or how long ago I did it) that I only wanted those 3 particular people to see...

Some things are funny now but weren’t at the time.  Take for instance the time I was backing into our driveway, looking in the little side mirror and doing a superb job of backing up straight.  Quite impressed with myself I was, since the neighbors were all outside and could witness my fantastic backing up skills (this was in PA where I had neighbors within hollering distance…).  I should mention 3 important things to this tale :  I have dyslexia so things frequently are reversed in my mind; DH had a big van; and I had those nice little back-up sensors remember?  Then B A N G: I was confused; the neighbors were all gawking; those dang new high-tech sensors were apparently broken; and oh dear, dear hubby’s van was in my space not his. $1500 dollars later, I still maintain it was not my fault he was in the wrong parking position, but I also no longer rely on that one little piece of snappy technology.

And today I was at a proper English Tea at our local library.  It was nice – delectable goodies, tasty tea, a harpist playing away.  Suddenly one of the ladies at our table kept asking us if anyone else was feeling the vibrations.  One by one they were all feeling it and I even joked about more aftershocks.  One lady across the table kept moving her hand around and all of a sudden said:  Here, it’s coming from here.  Here happened to be right in front of me.  In my cute little black (borrowed from my sweet daughter) clutch.  Yes I had silenced my ringer but didn’t give a thought to just how loud the “vibrate only” option would be.

And tonight takes the cake – I was talking to a friend while driving home and all of a sudden she kept saying can you hear me?  Are you there?  I kept telling her I could hear everything she was saying and I could hear her tell her daughter she must have lost me.  I kept hollering I can hear you; I’m not in a dead zone; you didn’t lose me – why can I hear you and you can’t hear me.  Looked down at my phone (in confusion) and learned I have a “mute” button that works real well when pressed against your cheek.

I know there are many other adventures and knowing me I’m sure there will be many more to come but for tonight I bid you Adieu! 



p.s.  If you see some words highlighted in yellow just ignore the pretty perky color  - I hit spellcheck but now can't figure out how to ignore their suggestions......  I rest my case!!!

Optimistic Worrier?

Words of wisdom from 2 long ago friends and one current husband keep coming to my mind lately.    The first is:  When the pain exceeds the pleasure, I’ll leave.  The second is:  Satan can’t steal your joy if you don’t let him.   And from my husband?  We worked together for years before becoming husband and wife and we both love to laugh and tease.  Consequently there were a lot of office jokes played on each other. I had a Peanuts comic strip on the wall of my cubicle.   I don’t remember the whole strip just the {new}funny ending.  Basically Charlie Brown was lying in bed contemplating something while looking up to the heavens and said “Why me Lord?”  One day I noticed some blue ink and upon looking closer, noticed someone had drawn in another of those “clouds” and written in it “Because you tick me off Cheryl”.  Yeah, I married him anyway. I mean how can you resist spending your life with someone that just gets you!…J

Because these first 2 thoughts keep coming to mind, I am going to go out on a limb here and assume that God is once again trying to reach through my ears that I have closed to teach me a lesson I probably don’t want to learn.  Or remind me of lessons I have learned the hard way once before.  I am Joyce Meyer’s poster child for her “just how many times do you want to go around that mountain”…. 

Many years ago my best friend Chuck was a fun, caring, supportive, always there for me kinda cute guy.  The only problem we had was that he wanted to date me but I didn’t want to date him.  One time he even vowed to be there for me every day for 6 months (188 days) while my boyfriend was on a Navy deployment half way around the world.  He said I wouldn’t make it on my own, so he would be there for me.  I didn’t think that was fair to him but he said, and here come those awesome words of wisdom, are ya ready?  “When the pain exceeds the pleasure, I will let you know.”  I never really understood those words until tonight.  I just really, really appreciated that he was there for me, all 188 days and more.  Eventually the pain exceeded the pleasure for him, and he went in search of a nice young lady that he then married.  I was even one of her bridesmaids b/c back then you just didn’t have a girl be your bestman!   

Fast forward about 15 years and I had another best friend and her words of wisdom (to me frequently) were “Don’t let Satan steal your joy” or put another way “Satan can’t steal your joy unless you let him”.  This one was easier for me to understand yet very difficult for me to live. 

You see, I am an optimistic worrier.  I know, that’s kind of an oxymoron.  Well not sure if it’s really a true oxymoron but I love that word and felt like using it.  No one else in my family were worriers, so I’m not sure how I became one.  But like any other job I have undertaken, I, as a perfectionist (reformed perfectionist as my family can attest to now!) worry to perfection.   Once in my 20’s during a counseling session, my pastor told me that I worry so well that if I have nothing to worry about, I worry about that.   I wish I could say worried but I can’t - I still do a pretty good job of worrying. 

I didn’t understand Chuck’s words back then because the optimist in me always thinks everything will work out if you just work hard enough, pray hard enough, beg hard enough, aw, you get the picture.  I love happy-ever-after-endings and would always try to get them no matter what the cost to me.  So, I stayed in a marriage way longer than was healthy for me, chased after love from friends and family members way longer than was smart for me and compromised God’s directions for me too many times in order to keep the “peace”.

The beginning of this month God began clarifying some things for me.  He reminded me of words from a sermon : are you a peace keeper or a peace maker?  Because there is a big difference.  Jesus was a peace maker; I on the other hand have been a peace keeper.  I have wondered all of my Christian years (and I’ve been one for as long as I can remember) what my spiritual gifts are.  Last year 3 very dear close friends decided to enlighten me.  We had met once a week for years in a group Bible study and then the four of us (commonly referred to as the FAB 4) branched out and met every Wednesday for 2 hours of Bible study, encouraging each other, prayer and of course eating something yummy.  I guess since we had broken bread together for so long, they felt entitled to clear up my dilemma of being 51 and not knowing my Spiritual Gifts.  One session I was lamenting the fact that I had said something nicely and gently to someone and meant no harm but now they weren’t speaking to me and I was confused.  After all we were both Christians and I was sure God wanted me to say what I said because I surely did NOT want to say it on my own…   Cynthia looked straight at me and said it was simple.  You have the gift of exhortation and people don’t like to hear what you need to say.  I didn’t like it.  I asked if I could give it back or at least exchange it.  I mean it doesn’t even sound nice.  I wanted one of those really nice ones like “Healing”, “Helps”, or even “Mercy”.  You know the kind that when someone who has the gift of mercy dies, everyone gushes about all the mercy she gave them.  I mean really, have you ever heard someone say:  “That dear Mrs. Smith, she was just the best exhortater, she really knew how to tell us stuff we really didn’t want to hear…”  That’s what I thought; I haven’t ever heard anyone gush about an exhortater either.   So I just continued to pretend that my FAB4 friends didn’t know what they were talking about.  Well until several weeks ago that was easy to do.  In a church Bible study of how to be a “Joy”ful” Woman, the leader gave us some homework – a little booklet that after you answer a gazillon questions, tells you what your Spiritual Gifts are.  And guess what?  You probably won’t believe this.  But my friends were right.  #1 was Exhortation.  #2 was Prophecy.  And #3 was Giving.  Ain’t that just something.  Now it’s confimed.  I can see in the future (prophecy) that I am going to tick you off by telling you something you’d rather not hear about (Exhortation) but because I am an optimistic worrier, I’ll throw in my #3 gift and give you something beautiful that I have made while I prayed for you to not be ticked off at me for saying something I would rather have not said in the first place.

This has been a common thread in my tapestry of life and now I must decide if I want to remain a “peace keeper” or step out with God and become a “peace maker.”  I just wish if He had to give me these gifts, that he would also have made me a {oops, can’t think of the word that would encompass an oxymoron of optimistic worrier} so that I wouldn’t so often let someone steal my JOY when I have only been following God’s direction in delivering that message.  If you are still reading, I guess you are looking for a closing to this long diatribe (it’s not really a diatribe but again I can’t think of another word.  Where is my friend that loves words, when I need her!!.)  but I’m not sure what it is because I think better out loud and I haven’t finished processing all of these thoughts.  I will say that since I am no longer a perfectionist, I am not going to stay up tonight and spell check, grammar check, sanity check my ramblings, or figure out if exhortater is even a real word.   

I have been allowing someone to steal my joy lately and now as I weigh some of the different paths ahead, I hope I can remember Chuck’s wise words and realize that when the pain exceeds the pleasure, it’s OK to leave.  That every situation doesn’t call for us to turn the cheek 7 times 77 times.   That keeping the peace, is usually not something peaceful – remember Jesus in the temple overturning tables?  And most of all, that as long as I am walking with God, everything will be OK.   Now if I can only remember these words when I wake up tomorrow morning and climb out of my cozy bed….