Lessons in patience - 2025 year in review

Title emerged as I was *SLOWLY* peeling day-old hard cooked eggs. Then came the ruminations....

Those hard-cooked eggs are now deviled eggs, and pretty tasty too! A New Year's treat that I sampled today, lol.

But first! I had to attend to chicken maintenance. Like dumping the dregs from the feeder into the run, hence luring said chickens into the run, as they've been free ranging much of the day, and most of that unsupervised. Oh, you know what, this might be a long post, so heads-up. (It IS a long post, with lots of links to entries from this year about various pastimes.)

Anyway, back to sorting out the chicken feed for the rest of the day; the feeder was quite low, and best to let them have the spoils as though an actual treat, HAHA! Into the run went all but one, and upon a quick glance I noticed Owl was missing. What is up with that gal, I wondered, as my husband went to check the coop. Sure enough she was curled in a nesting box, bless her poultry heart.

But I digress, yet only a little, because 2025 has been the year of chickens for us on California's North Coast. And as I peeled those eggs, I stumbled upon a fairly apt title for this end of year entry. Patience with peeling new eggs. With not writing. With scant quilting. With shoveling poop. With myself, hah! With how the world has altered, ahem. With not writing. Oh wait, I already mentioned that.

But I churn out lots of blog posts, about the only writing that's happening. But better than no writing, smirks Future Me.

I nod.

Anyway (again), so lots of patience acquired. Not enough to last the rest of my life certainly, but enough to not throw myself in front of a train due to how unpleasant is America's government. And that's enough said about that subject.

Because there are PLENTY of entries about that.

And because my life isn't merely wrapped up in authoritarianism.

ANYWAY.... Chickens! Kawandi quilting! Published novels!!! That one gets three exclamation points because that's pretty dang awesome! LOL! Two from The Hawk, two from The Enran Chronicles, and one standalone about, um.... A corrupt government, eyeroll. Splitting the Sky was an exercise in resurrecting an old draft. It's a good story dealing with forgotten astronauts, a corrupt leader, mind games, and love.

Always love stories, no matter the genre, circumstances, or political shenanigans.

Always love, might I add, as I delved deeply into my Christian faith, which is the true sustaining factor in not losing my bearings in 2025. That faith will carry me into 2026 as I.... As I do whatever the Spirit leads me to accomplish. Writing? Sewing? Cleaning out the coop? Um, definitely cleaning out the coop. I meant to do that today, just quickly remove the droppings along the wall where they roost at night. Instead I spent way too long peeling eggs, and now I'm writing this. That poo isn't going anywhere, and I'll make it a New Year's Day tradition, LOL! Starting tomorrow....

Because today is the final day of a year of which I have loathed speaking the number. An awful faction within my nation has turned 2025 into a vile collection of numerals and....

Stop. Don't say another word about something our Christian faith has long conquered.

I turn around, but don't see Future Me. Or Past Me. Only Present Me, so who's speaking on OUR behalf?

The room is silent, other than my typing. The occasional car blows past. My tinnitus is mild these days, so I don't even hear that. Chickens. Writing. Quilting. Authoritarianism.....

Still it's quiet. Maybe Future Me is yanking my chain. I could go far with that phrase, but instead I'll mention how marvelous it was learning a new way to quilt. Kawandi was a gift from my brief tenure on Bluesky. My first Kawandi quilt beckons for a sister cozy, as I have EPP blocks remaining. Will I satisfy that request in the months ahead?

Here's that Kawandi quilt, draped over a chair in my bedroom. I so LOVE the colours and look of it! And the method was very calming, just what I needed earlier this year.

Home and Far Away: The Enran Chronicles Book Four also calls for its sequel. Or next installment in that saga. Will I acquiesce to that too?

(I'm still looking around for Future Me, no sign of her!)

Huh, well, o-kay. That's something Gilly Lund would say. Right now I feel like a little kid, some elder relative parked just out eyeshot. Or earshot. So 2025. 2025. 2025 found me searching for reasons for why bad things happen. Come to find out, I rediscovered Christ instead.

I also turned into a different physical version of myself after spending a weekend in hospital with diverticulitis. Gave up ALL dairy, lactose-free included. And red meat. And Advil, and all forms of ibuprofen. I wondered how my knees and right hip were going to fare without adequate pain relief, then found that by not consuming dairy products, even those lactose-free, my knees and hip, even my right sore meniscus, felt fine. F-I-N-E! Lol. I'm still adjusting to those dietary changes, which also includes two servings of Metamucil, for extra fiber, every day. It's nearly Metamucil time now, hmmm. Let's see if I can wrap up this entry. And if Future Me makes herself known.

Okay, so very little writing, as I did manage a quarter for Enran Chronicles Book Five back in June. Some quilting, including a recent surprise project that I'll reveal in a few weeks after it's gifted. New quilting method learned, so no more bindings, YES! Those adorable, egg-laying chickens! Visits with family and friends, prayers said for them and other beloveds. Prayers said for my country....

A sneak-peek of that surprise project from last night's hand-quilting session.

I look around, no sign of Future Me. Did she tell me to stop several paragraphs earlier, did I dream it? Was that Jesus, sounding much like my orderly future self. Someone told me to stop, maybe just a whisper of grace, a sense that all is well no matter how chaotic it appears. Perhaps a slip of some silver tinsel that used to go on a Christmas tree when I was a kid, or strung popcorn and cranberries that I hung on trees when my children were small, until I found gaps in the thread where my youngest had nibbled on aged popcorn. Possibly a cluck-cluck in my head from ridiculous hens who weren't an idea this time last year but now direct more of my time than I'm happy with, but we took on this role as chicken owners voluntarily and....

Now my ears are ringing. A car drives past. Slowly my fingers type these words, although it's faster than over an hour ago when I was peeling those eggs, pondering this end-of-year post. Wondering how to write succinctly about a year that was good and bad. Learned and frustrating. Filled with questions that were answered by Love and Grace and Peace, when I had the wherewithal and patience to look with eyes open to love and grace and peace. Wherewithal and patience went hand in hand in a year that if I look back on it, well, yeah, I'll look back. I'll breathe deeply the massive gratitude for God leading me by my hand through months steeped in landmines, some of my own making, yet not all.

Again I peer around, no one telling me to hush. So I continue: Some of my own making, but many laid by others lost in darkness. I pause, merely because that's the way it is. There is light in this world, but much darkness. In 2026 I wish to be a light. I want to radiate peace. I desire to share love.

I'd love to have a milkshake too, but.... Instead I'll enjoy a gluten-free, dairy-free, but not vegan scone because my husband uses eggs produced FROM OUR OWN CHICKENS in his baking. He took up making scones this year. I adopted cleaning up after chickens. And acknowledging that a victory won over two thousand years ago holds true today. Wishing you a happy and peaceful so-long to this year, and a gentle and kind hello to the next.

And if you see Future Me, ask if she was yanking my chain. God bless, dear readers, and thanks for sharing in my world.