The why of the whistle...

Breaking News:  My friend Mary had her twins.  If you are a praying person, please pray for her and her babies.  Right now, they are in separate hospitals, because her preemies needed to be in a NICU.  One is having surgery on the morrow, so it would be nice if the family can be reunited as soon as possible.  Living in small town America came make the logistics of troublesome pregnancies hard on families.  I am wishing for all of the family to have those angels God can send surround them and for much health to Mary and her two new little girls.

Selfishly, I am happy to note that I actually got to talk with Mary, since the babysitter watching the other children when I called to have a chat gave me her hospital number.  I didn't even know she was in the hospital!  I got to chat with Mary, talk about sci-fi shows, and even laugh.  I don't laugh much these days.  What a blessing she is, even so soon after an emergency C-section.  Mercy!

Last night night I gathered my non-existent energy and made a double batch of the chicken part of the Lemon Chicken Gyros with Tzatziki and Feta and a double batch of the Gyro Flatbread, for I was out of both.  I made the lemon chicken with my alternative finishing so that it works with freezing.

Amos kept asking me to give up on the cooking stuff and join him back in the GREEN chair.  He really does not like for me to be off doing things for very long.  I guess he think's I'm the best thing since sliced bread!  That's nice.

Last night was also a first for me.  I had a dream so bad that, when I awoke screaming, I bit my tongue.  Having a swollen, painful tongue is rather bothersome.  It did not, however, keep me from enjoying a gyro.

It is cold.  Very, very, very cold.  Lots of windchill cold.  And, last night and on into today, we had snow.  When Firewood Man came by to clear my sidewalks and behind my garage, he noted that I had not made much of a dent in my woodpile.  I told him I was trying to be economical and stretch out my fires.  He asked why, when they comfort me so.  I have no good answer.  And he said he still has my own personal pile covered with a tarp (snow free) just waiting for me.

I started an account with Firewood Man, because I wanted to spread out the costs of mowing (and now mulching) over 12 months, instead of during only the growing season. And I wanted to do the same for firewood and snow removal.  I could have started a savings account to put in weekly contributions to cover the costs of Firewood Man's labors on my behalf, but I thought it better to forgo the small interest I might gave to allow him a better cash flow.

Right now, I have $110 left from what I last gave him for the winter (I funded my account with a cushion to start off).  The wood is $30 a firewood rack, but another load would bring me down below $100.  If we have just one more snow, I would still have $100.  Why do I want to come out of the winter with that much money?  $100 is what he thinks the mulching will be.  Now, I have mulch in my regular budget, but I was trying to scrimp and save and not use that regular budget money.  However, I do love fires.  And it really makes no sense for me to be so very miserly that I am punishing myself when I have funds on account with Tim for just this very reason.

So, I had me a mighty soothing fire all afternoon and all evening.  I also spent quite a bit of time with my feet parked right in front of it, practically burning them, because I had such a cold spell this morning.  Nothing I did warmed up my icy skin, blue feet and hands, and tremors.  For hours.  

I hate dysautonomia.

My sister called when I was outside waiting on Amos to brave the arctic tundra and complete his major business.  A train whistle rang out whilst we were talked and she interrupted to ask if she was hearing a train.  I told she was and that I had blogged recently on not knowing why it is that I find the train whistle so very comforting.

My sister told me that when we were little, visiting my grandparents, we would share the spare room and would fall asleep listening to the train whistles.  I do not think she truly understands why, but I did.  You see, if we were in that room, that meant that my uncle was not there and I was not on the couch pull out bed where he visited his attentions on me.  In that room, I was safe.

I had my answer:  the train whistle is reminding me of a time in my childhood when I felt safe.  Feeling safe as a child was a rare thing to me.

How merciful is it, then, that God would provide this magnificent old house, already such a balm to my spirit, in a place where train whistles blow throughout the evening and night?  I did not know that this place, this location, would bring reminders of a safe time.  Surely God did.

Right?