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I'm tired. I feel deflated. Alone (but I know, by faith, that I'm not alone). I battle things that I have no control over... things that involve other people. People that I love. Control... big word. I control how I choose to react to things. I control what time I should go to bed. I control those kinds of things regarding me. But I don't control how others behave, how they perceive me, my life or my choices in life. They see through their own way of seeing things. I cannot make them understand that which even I cannot understand regarding my day to day life.
But one thing is for sure. I have made it clear where I stand. Whether other loved ones understand that or not is neither here nor there. My 'stand' is not easy, not even understood by me at times but I have declared it to be so... I am loyal to that which I am committed to.
To those loved ones who cannot accept or understand my loyalties, I bid you adieu. It's futile for me to even try to get them to understand. I have tried and either I have failed in my deliveries or they have failed in their ability to really 'hear' or accept what I'm so desperate to have them understand. At the end of this, I just want them to accept what I tell them.. not to have everything understood. That's just not possible.
My heart is saddened by this loss.
New Year's resolutions are so over-rated. Much like Christmas. For me, the best Christmas I could ever have would be to give someone without hope a taste of what the reason for the season really means.
I recall one Christmas many years ago when my brother spent a Christmas with me and my Mom and mentioned this man he met that was staying in some kind of boarding house, lonely and in the company of some young rowdy men. He had called him and the poor soul was just spending the day in bed... best option regarding his situation. I told my brother to go fetch him to join us for a turkey dinner. My Mom, who had suffered a stroke some years back, had not played her guitar or sang because it just didn't come out on key. Well... that night it was different. Her and our special guest played guitar and sang... it was such a joy to see her sing again (and on key!)... the best Christmas I ever had. Never saw that man again. Maybe he was put in our lives for a specific reason. Maybe vice-versa.
This is the first day of winter in eastern New Brunswick. Normally, it's a winter wonderland by this time but this is not a normal year. I hate nor easters. Big time!
The above video is a couple hours before high tide. The water would cover more of the road and as nightfall approached and right now there are utility vehicles posted at either side of the flooded road. I guess they'll be there for the night with those orange lights flashing, flashing, flashing. At least they'll not be flashing in my bedroom window but I do have blinds.
And this is across the street. You can see where my neighbour put up a 'snow' fence after cleaning up a lot of debris from the last storm. Isn't that kinda like sticking your finger in a leaky dam? Resistance is futile. You can see his shingles flapping away... just hanging in there (last I looked, anyway). We have the same thing happening on the north side of our roof. Changes coming this spring and some much needed exterior work will take place. I'm so done with stressing with each storm. Our poor east wall and attached garage will get a complete revamp. Also time for new windows and siding. It's just become so necessary and we'll have some great and much needed help.
This is not a major river. It's rather shallow and in summer, when the tide is out, we can walk across with the water only being about 4 feet or so deep. Today, it's flexing some muscle. I'd hate to be near the ocean right now. Storm surge, full moon, high tides... yuk.
There's a little shop along the New Brunswick coastline just beyond the Bouctouche Dunes that I love to visit. I discovered it shortly after moving here as I was getting to know the area. The shop owners are a delightful and quirky pair (quirky is a good term to me... unique and interesting). He is called the "Woodchuck" and his carvings are of a primitive style... each one telling a story. She is the Woodchip, having her own store filled with wonderful things. I can spend an hour there and I'll be heard frequently saying "Oh! I didn't see that! It's gorgeous."
He's built an addition to his shop. Rather interesting and full of a different kind of 'collectible'. Her shop is a tiny little building filled with lovely treasures, more appealing to feminine tastes. I'll just let the pictures tell the story.
