Slippin' and Slidin'

 I'm slippin' and slidin' under the radar.

I've been pushing the envelope for the past month to get my website up and running. Old eyes, waning energy, and old ways of doing things in this modern world made the task that once was so easy, but now is triple difficult. But I did it and the push to get it done was a growing concern and an ill boding of something wicked rising.

All the true Christian influencers that I trust seem to be getting the same message - buckle up, slide into Plan B.

Given that I am not an influencer I was not sure why I felt the need to create a bridge, an alternative Plan B and  thus a place to escape from the platform provided free by the great and powerful Gog - [btw, nothing is free, Gog gets something out of it or I would have been kicked aside long ago].  

So, It's up and running, though just in its infancy, still needs tweaking and adding to, and until any and all things determined to be 'Christian' or that goes against the current stream of consciousness narrative is outlawed, I will continue posting there. 

As long as this site is up, I might post here from time to time. 

Maybe.

Two links:

bagsallpacked.com

Fast link to new posts

For Him

:)meema

Endings & Beginnings

 

All things old are new again, they say. If you live long enough you get to see things change and then come back again - hip huggers and bell bottom pants come to mind. 

It feels as though I have come full circle.  Back to the beginning.  Back to simple.

When I started this blog in 2011, I was encouraged to 'monetize' it, which, of course, also gave Goggle a share of the potential income. But I wasn't interested. I just wanted to post my thoughts and observations as I had done for a decade in my old website. But blogging seemed to be the modern step I needed to make so I jumped in with no expectations other than making a new place to share my perspective on life and the human condition, gently showing, not just telling, why having a personal relationship with Christ was possible even without manmade religion, which I know is tantamount to heresy. 

I did eventually add links to books that my grandkids and I published but I didn't make those the reason for the blog.  My goal wasn't about making money off my blog, in any form.  As usual it has mostly been an outlet for me to write and thereby find out what I think.  

I know many, if not most, sites exist to produce income but I have to say when I enter a website and the first thing that happens is I am interrupted with a text block asking for my email and/or a subscription before I can continue, I usually click off. I may or may not make the effort to get to what I went in there to read. 

Regardless, whatever the owner/author wished to tell me apparently wasn't as important as getting me to subscribe/fund the effort.  But the worst is when I enter a site that has one or more blinking, animated ads demanding my attention, I can't click off quick enough. Why is this not understood, that you cannot bully me to look at, much less buy, your product, not just by advertisers but also by the host site that allows it?  I guess being old school I am missing how this marketing strategy is supposed to work.  

I do appreciate that there are folks who actually subscribed and followed my blog.  I have enjoyed the comments from those who wanted to add to the topic. Since the notification function was removed, (I suspect because there was money to be made by forcing me to subscribe to a new notification service), there are no more announcements of new posts sent out. For me that was just another nudge toward returning to my old ways of doing things anyway.  If I'm going to be talking to myself I prefer to do it on my own terms, in my own space.

As I've always said, the day does come and change is unstoppable. Nevertheless, even as I do not resist change, I still cling to old ways when they make more sense.   I'm severely practical like that.   

My focus now is on keeping things simple even as the world becomes more complex ... and the new normal is monetized. While I still have eyes to see and albeit old, but still reliable, skill sets, I just want to share things and hope they can enlighten, mentor, comfort and encourage anyone who wishes to hit the download link.  

So, this is sort of an ending but also a return to the beginning. I'll be posting in my new website (when I get it up and running) from this point forward. No subscriptions needed, no ads, and no notifications when new stuff is added. But, of course, the old way of bookmarking the site is still possible. 

I'm just an old lady, with an old lady's perspective on what matters and what doesn't. My bags are all packed, waiting for my ticket home. In the meantime, I am doing what I still can do while I still can do it.

I will post the link when the site goes live.

For Him,

Meema

Change

 When I was 11, I woke up one morning and realized that I was too old to play with dolls anymore. This was just prior to the first Barbie doll being introduced so the epiphany probably came at a good time otherwise I might have hung on a bit longer. My collection of plastic actors that performed great stories from my imagination were all small dolls of one kind or another including one Madam Alexander doll that is likely worth a bundle now.

But, given the way I am constructed, once I see an end to something, I do not drag it out, I finish and move on. So, I carefully packed my beloved assorted dolls into an old shoe box and, as a way to punctuate my decision, I walked next door, rang the bell and handed my childhood over to our neighbors' five year old daughter. 

Done and done. 

In keeping with my usual way to process great change, I sat in my swing in our backyard and pondered my next step. I knew it was an ending but also a beginning, though I didn't know for what.

To give my imagination a chance to adjust to not having dolls to act out my epic dramas I switched to writing stories on notebook paper. I could not bring myself to give them titles, because that would be too presumptuous of me, as though I thought I was an author or something. Sometimes I would make sketches in the margins of characters I envisioned in my compositions. When I was done I folded the paper and stuffed it in the bottom drawer of the vanity, deep under my socks. It wasn't long before I progressed to writing poetry and eventually a journal called 'Shadows Speaking' ....ohhhh....so deep.

In reflective moments I wish I could read those early efforts. Then in keeping with my done-is-done attitude, I conclude the keeping of the memory as an ideal is usually better than the reality. 

As I have aged out I have passed through many such phases. Always determined that just because I have reached a clear reason to end a thing does not signal the end, but rather just announces a closure that allows for a new door to be passed through. 

As my eyesight wanes due to glaucoma, I have been looking ahead and wondering what is next that I might still be able to do. But first I can't help but revel in all the things I have done only because God inspired me to keep looking/moving forward, even as I have had to let go of things that were destined to pass. As I simmer gently in reflection seasoned with gratitude, I can't think of a single thing to complain about.

I've always marched to a different drum beat and therefore I, more often than not, never quite fit into the mainstream or a collective. When I have tried to write about what it's like to be an 'older' only someone who is old, like I, could possibly understand. When I read blogs or commentary of those who are fifteen to twenty years behind me, I don't know how to say, 'been there done that' without sounding like a boring know-it-all. 

One thing I have sworn to not be is an old lady who only wants to talk about her past.

However, I do wish I could share what change does to one so that I could also mentor how to keep believing that stepping through the next door is always the end of something but the beginning to something else. 

If you step out in faith, God will either make a step or give you wings.  

Been there done that.

For Him,

Meema