I've been waiting a few weeks to post this blog. I AM GOING TO BE A GRANDMOTHER!! MP and Josh are expecting their baby to arrive March 4. I am very excited. I heard his/her heartbeat today. Wow!
I am sort of like a kid waiting for Christmas. This is a role I have really wanted to play. I have gotten a little practice with the sweet Davis girls, and I don't intend to change my relationship with them, but they are in Minnesota, and proximity makes it hard to have frequent times together.
I've tried to analyze why I am so excited about becoming a grandmother. I have a friend with 12 grandchildren whose husband said they should have skipped the kids and gone straight to grandkids. So many of my friends are grandparents, and the reports are all the same...it's great. You get to play and not discipline. That's nice.
My family provides a pretty steady supply of babies at family events, but the youngest one now is 5. We're all excited for another one. It is one more person to love.
I think one reason I am so excited is because of the grandmother I had. I called her Mae. I adored her. She was so much fun. I always felt that Mae loved me unconditionally. She thought I was great. She gave everybody a nickname. I was Mell, my older brothers were Pudd and Moochie. You have to love someone who calls you those names. She never kissed us on the face, but always on the back of our heads or necks. She did not want to spread germs to us. She let us take all the furniture off her big front porch and put it in the yard. Then, we took the furniture our of her house and put that on the porch. She had four o'clocks that bloomed outside her bedroom window, and petunias in wicker flower boxes on her porch. She made great biscuits. When she made them, she let us cut ours out with thimbles. Our thimble biscuits looked like dirty little toes, but they were the best ever. She played fruit basket turnover, poor kitty, rock school and 123 redlight. I learned my multiplication tables from her. She always had new crayons, paper, and plenty of supplies for our projects. She let us make goulash ~ a combination of any and everything that came from her pantry. I learned a lot about God and how to treat people, and why I Love Lucy was so funny from her. Her life was never about herself. I want to be that kind of grandmother, well, except for the goulash. It is a wonder we didn't blow her house up.
I think the biggest reason I am so thrilled to be a grandmother is because MP and Josh get to be parents. I have a friend who says that marriage is the last chance for people to really grow up. I think parenting is. Becoming a parent is the thing that helped me understand just how much my parents loved me. It helped me understand in some small way, the love of God. It taught me willful and joyful self-sacrifice. It gave me something so much bigger than myself on which to focus. Parenting drives me to my knees, and makes my heart soar.
I am most thrilled that my children are going to experience their children.
And, did I mention I AM GOING TO BE A GRANDMOTHER?
blessings
Wednesday, August 31, 2011
Tuesday, August 30, 2011
Relative Matters ~ Part I
Every family has its eccentric members. Some families are blessed with a great number of those, as well as members who are exceptional in their eccentricity. As I was walking this morning, I got to thinking about a couple of mine. One aunt and one cousin. They were not mother and son. It is better that way so the joy can be spread throughout the whole family. If you are concerned that I am going to hurt someone's feelings, the aunt passed away several years ago, and the cousin would never recognize himself if he ever has opportunity to read this post.
Perhaps, I will start with my cousin, Bennie (not his real name, just in case). He was adopted. His mom had no lack of quirkiness herself. In fact, when the children were young, the moms would get together and discuss their preganancies and labors. I'm not sure why any of us do that, but whatever. Zima (not her real name), Bennie's mom, would join in the conversation and describe in great detail the trials of her pregnancy and the tribulations of her labor. Other family members who knew she had never been pregnant nor given birth found it quite peculiar, but no one challenged her.
I remember a Christmas day when I was about 8 years old. I had 2 older brothers. This particular year, Bennie began threatening my brothers (this is Christmas Day ~ peace and love and joy) with his karate expertise. He kept telling them that his hands were registered lethal weapons as he approached them karate chopping the air. They ducked and dodged the blows trying desperately not to totally break up with laughter. In the meantime, another cousin had brought her Christmas chicken (seriously, I'm not making it up) called Shicky Shick. Everytime someone new would enter my grandmother's house, she would tell Shicky Shick to tell them hello. If Shicky Shick did not respond in a timely fashion, she twisted his neck, and Shicky Shick would squawk an enthusiastic hello. Even at age 8, I knew there was something seriously unusual here.
One time Bennie called my brother who was an attorney. He was terribly upset and wanted to file a wrongful death suit. My brother was not really alarmed, but still he wondered why he had not heard of the death to which Bennie referred. So, he asked on whose behalf he wanted to file the wrongful death suit. Bennie told him it was for himself because "if the dealership did not fix his car he was going to die in a car wreck." My brother informed him that a wrongful death suit could not be filed unless someone had died. I believe Bennie hung up muttering something about a second opinion.
Bennie was pretty thrilled when the Department of Homeland Security was established. He "worked" for them and called them often. He had a route around Myatt Drive that he put under surveillance. Once he found a broken radio and a gas can, all in one day. He immediately reported his findings to the department. I always wondered if the department had Bennie under surveillance.
It was on Thanksgiving at my house that he asked me if I had put on weight. Please, that is not an appropriate question. Little did I know how far the inappropriateness would go. I said to Bennie that he wouldn't ask me such questions if he wanted his Thanksgiving dinner to which he replied, "that's okay. I like my women big." Seriously? Are you kidding me? Now you're thinking, well, he was adopted and we aren't related, but HE, at age 60+ doesn't know he was adopted. So, I ask again, seriously?
It is always lovely when your friends get to know your relatives. One day my friend, Nancy, called me to tell me that her sister-in-law had met Bennie and his girlfriend. I can only assume she was a big lady, since that's how he likes his women. I did not, however, inquire because that seemed so insignificant when I learned that her name was Alpha Omega, and she kept her money in a condom. Nice.
I think I will save Aunt Frank for another post entitled Relative Matters ~ Part II. I often wonder what families do where everyone is astute, accomplished, appropriate, and well-behaved. Are family gatherings sort of bland? Ours rarely are. I love my family. I love our differences and our commonalities. So for today, I wish you familial joy, humor, and
blessings
Perhaps, I will start with my cousin, Bennie (not his real name, just in case). He was adopted. His mom had no lack of quirkiness herself. In fact, when the children were young, the moms would get together and discuss their preganancies and labors. I'm not sure why any of us do that, but whatever. Zima (not her real name), Bennie's mom, would join in the conversation and describe in great detail the trials of her pregnancy and the tribulations of her labor. Other family members who knew she had never been pregnant nor given birth found it quite peculiar, but no one challenged her.
I remember a Christmas day when I was about 8 years old. I had 2 older brothers. This particular year, Bennie began threatening my brothers (this is Christmas Day ~ peace and love and joy) with his karate expertise. He kept telling them that his hands were registered lethal weapons as he approached them karate chopping the air. They ducked and dodged the blows trying desperately not to totally break up with laughter. In the meantime, another cousin had brought her Christmas chicken (seriously, I'm not making it up) called Shicky Shick. Everytime someone new would enter my grandmother's house, she would tell Shicky Shick to tell them hello. If Shicky Shick did not respond in a timely fashion, she twisted his neck, and Shicky Shick would squawk an enthusiastic hello. Even at age 8, I knew there was something seriously unusual here.
One time Bennie called my brother who was an attorney. He was terribly upset and wanted to file a wrongful death suit. My brother was not really alarmed, but still he wondered why he had not heard of the death to which Bennie referred. So, he asked on whose behalf he wanted to file the wrongful death suit. Bennie told him it was for himself because "if the dealership did not fix his car he was going to die in a car wreck." My brother informed him that a wrongful death suit could not be filed unless someone had died. I believe Bennie hung up muttering something about a second opinion.
Bennie was pretty thrilled when the Department of Homeland Security was established. He "worked" for them and called them often. He had a route around Myatt Drive that he put under surveillance. Once he found a broken radio and a gas can, all in one day. He immediately reported his findings to the department. I always wondered if the department had Bennie under surveillance.
It was on Thanksgiving at my house that he asked me if I had put on weight. Please, that is not an appropriate question. Little did I know how far the inappropriateness would go. I said to Bennie that he wouldn't ask me such questions if he wanted his Thanksgiving dinner to which he replied, "that's okay. I like my women big." Seriously? Are you kidding me? Now you're thinking, well, he was adopted and we aren't related, but HE, at age 60+ doesn't know he was adopted. So, I ask again, seriously?
It is always lovely when your friends get to know your relatives. One day my friend, Nancy, called me to tell me that her sister-in-law had met Bennie and his girlfriend. I can only assume she was a big lady, since that's how he likes his women. I did not, however, inquire because that seemed so insignificant when I learned that her name was Alpha Omega, and she kept her money in a condom. Nice.
I think I will save Aunt Frank for another post entitled Relative Matters ~ Part II. I often wonder what families do where everyone is astute, accomplished, appropriate, and well-behaved. Are family gatherings sort of bland? Ours rarely are. I love my family. I love our differences and our commonalities. So for today, I wish you familial joy, humor, and
blessings
Saturday, August 27, 2011
Embarrassing Moments
Last night at dinner, the conversation started with visits to the eye doctor, and moved to embarrassing moments. I shared an embarrassing moment at the eye doctor. Basically, I have an embarrassing moment for most any social occasion. After dinner, by informal vote, it was decided that I had raised social awkwardness and personal embarrassment to a height unattainable by anyone else in the family. "He who wishes" said I should write a book. I thought, perhaps a blog first. I will not bore you with all my moments, just some of the top ten.
Of course, I guess I should begin with the eye doctor story since that is what started the whole discussion. Once I had a vision test at the opthamologist's office where I looked into a machine sort of like a child's view finder. There was a lovely pastoral scene with a cornfield, green tractor and red barn. If I looked at it with both eyes, there were some items that did not belong in the scene, and I found them aesthetically displeasing. So, I shut my left eye and responded to the nurse's inquiries as to what was in the picture. When the test was over with great dismay she exclaimed that I had gone completely blind in my left eye. Embarrassing!!
There was the family wedding that we attended. I can usually count on "he who wishes" to maintain a high level of decorum. He has much more self-control than I, so he is the rock upon which I depend to keep me in line. He failed me at this wedding. I won't go into the many details that caused our laughter, but we were both overwhelmed with the giggles. In an effort to settle myself down in such circumstances, I find that a subtle cough helps me get things under control. Not so this evening. My cough burst forth sounding much like the honk of the lead goose in a flock of geese headed South for the winter. It was so bad, that our young teen children got up and went to sit with more refined family members. Driving to the reception, I convinced myself that the honking cough was not as obnoxious as my family was making it out to be. I was disabused of this falsehood, however, when, at the reception, the video was played back, and there was the honk, forever on video, for all to hear. My mortification was complete.
And, then there was the family funeral. Once again, "he who wishes" found himself unable to tap into his usual stoicism. The laughter began (I am not proud) when I saw a cousin who had come to the funeral in tuxedo pants, patent leather shoes (purchased at Bittner's annual sale), a sport coat, and I think, polo shirt. I'm sorry, but it was prime for What Not to Wear. So, I got to giggling. When the prayer began, "dear God, we are at our wit's end," somehow looking at my cousin's attire, and knowing the wits of many of the family members present, the giggles increased. "He who wishes" and I often think too much alike and he too began to laugh. I ran out of the room, face in hands, as people sympathetically expressed their concern for my sorrow. I went to the ladies' room and, yes, I hee hawed...almost hysterically. Unbeknownst to me at that moment, hysteria would follow later. While I hee hawed in the ladies' room, "he who wishes" was guffawing in the men's room. Eventually, after a couple more trips to the specified gender rooms, we were able to return to the funeral.
The minister, apparently, was not acquainted with the deceased for he never mentioned his name, and during the service he railed against abortion and the United States Supreme Court. "He who wishes" leaned over to me and commented that my uncle had either been a member of the Supreme Court or had had an abortion. Enter, once again, serious giggling. We suffered through the "memorial" only to be met with the song "On the Street Where You Live" played as the casket was wheeled from the chapel. I am not making this up. We still have not reached the point of hysteria. I did get tickled when my father got into the car we were driving to the cemetery, and in his dry, witty, way said, "now that's who I want to do my funeral."
So, we go to the cemetery where the graveside service consisted of the minister (still not having spoken the name of the deceased) going on a loud diatribe against "the church" for creating Pergatory just to make money. My cousin, the deceased's daughter, at the gravesite, came to the minister and said, "you are crazy as hell if you think I am going to pay you," followed by disparaging remarks concerning his mother's dispositon. Okay, now let the hysteria begin.
I am not known for my athletic prowess. I was known as the "easy out" at church softball games, the "belly buster" at the pool, and the one who hit the tennis balls over the fence. Basketball proved to be my most serious undoing, however. In junior high everyone who was not on a sports team was required to play an intramural sport. As if junior high is not humiliating enough. One team had to wear red pennies...you know, little vest-like things that slip over your head...to distinguish them from the other team since all of us were in PE uniforms. Talk about What Not to Wear. Needless to say, there was no coach recruiting me for his/her team so in 7th grade, I played intramural basketball. Of course, my team was the one who had to wear the pennies. Mainly, I sat on the bench, gratefully. But, the moment came when I was called into the game. I had about a nanosecond to take a penny from a teammate and put it on. Much to my chagrin and the frustration of my coach, I found myself standing in the middle of the court with my head and arm through the same hole of the penny. My arm was wedged next to my right ear and my eyes were covered with the penny since the head hole was not large enough for my head and my shoulder. I was not much help to my team in this condition, but the fans certainly were entertained. A prime candidate for the the Litton Intramural Basketball Hall of Shame.
And, the piece de resistance of personal embarrassment. When my son graduated from high school, we went on a 3 week trip out West. My daughter loved to horseback ride, had even taken some classes. Our chance came at Yellowstone National Park. We went to the barn and the wrangler picked out the horses we were to ride. There were several other equestrians in our group. This was going to be fun. The wrangler helped me up on my horse, and I immediately grabbed the reigns holding on for dear life. My horse began to back up. The wrangler yelled release, release. I thought (seriously, I'm not kidding) my horse's name was Release. Why in the world would Release not stop backing up. He is pushing other riders out of the paddock. Then, very loudly, the wrangler yelled, "ma'am release the reigns!!" Oh, Release was not my horse's name, it was the instruction directed at me. One might think that this would be the height of embarrassment for a trail ride, but, no.
The trail ride was rather pleasant. Everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves. Some of the participants were definitely steering clear of me, but Release and I were understanding each other quite well. After an hour or so, it was time to return to the barn and bid our horses and wranglers a fond farewell. My dismount was somewhat less than graceful. Popular at that time were long sweatshirts that came about to one's knees. Speaking of What Not to Wear. As I dismounted, my sweatshirt got caught on the saddle horn. My weight caught in the sweatshirt caught on the saddle horn caused the saddle to slip sideways on Release's belly. I am a rather short person, and could not reach the ground. As I dangled from the saddle horn, laughing uncontrollably, watching my family backing away quickly (they wanted to watch the train wreck, but they didn't want anyone to know they were with the train wreck), I couldn't figure out who was more embarrassed, the horse or me. Was it my imagination that poor Release shuffled back to his stall with his head hanging low?
So for today, I wish you social dignity, poise, grace, and
blessings
Of course, I guess I should begin with the eye doctor story since that is what started the whole discussion. Once I had a vision test at the opthamologist's office where I looked into a machine sort of like a child's view finder. There was a lovely pastoral scene with a cornfield, green tractor and red barn. If I looked at it with both eyes, there were some items that did not belong in the scene, and I found them aesthetically displeasing. So, I shut my left eye and responded to the nurse's inquiries as to what was in the picture. When the test was over with great dismay she exclaimed that I had gone completely blind in my left eye. Embarrassing!!
There was the family wedding that we attended. I can usually count on "he who wishes" to maintain a high level of decorum. He has much more self-control than I, so he is the rock upon which I depend to keep me in line. He failed me at this wedding. I won't go into the many details that caused our laughter, but we were both overwhelmed with the giggles. In an effort to settle myself down in such circumstances, I find that a subtle cough helps me get things under control. Not so this evening. My cough burst forth sounding much like the honk of the lead goose in a flock of geese headed South for the winter. It was so bad, that our young teen children got up and went to sit with more refined family members. Driving to the reception, I convinced myself that the honking cough was not as obnoxious as my family was making it out to be. I was disabused of this falsehood, however, when, at the reception, the video was played back, and there was the honk, forever on video, for all to hear. My mortification was complete.
And, then there was the family funeral. Once again, "he who wishes" found himself unable to tap into his usual stoicism. The laughter began (I am not proud) when I saw a cousin who had come to the funeral in tuxedo pants, patent leather shoes (purchased at Bittner's annual sale), a sport coat, and I think, polo shirt. I'm sorry, but it was prime for What Not to Wear. So, I got to giggling. When the prayer began, "dear God, we are at our wit's end," somehow looking at my cousin's attire, and knowing the wits of many of the family members present, the giggles increased. "He who wishes" and I often think too much alike and he too began to laugh. I ran out of the room, face in hands, as people sympathetically expressed their concern for my sorrow. I went to the ladies' room and, yes, I hee hawed...almost hysterically. Unbeknownst to me at that moment, hysteria would follow later. While I hee hawed in the ladies' room, "he who wishes" was guffawing in the men's room. Eventually, after a couple more trips to the specified gender rooms, we were able to return to the funeral.
The minister, apparently, was not acquainted with the deceased for he never mentioned his name, and during the service he railed against abortion and the United States Supreme Court. "He who wishes" leaned over to me and commented that my uncle had either been a member of the Supreme Court or had had an abortion. Enter, once again, serious giggling. We suffered through the "memorial" only to be met with the song "On the Street Where You Live" played as the casket was wheeled from the chapel. I am not making this up. We still have not reached the point of hysteria. I did get tickled when my father got into the car we were driving to the cemetery, and in his dry, witty, way said, "now that's who I want to do my funeral."
So, we go to the cemetery where the graveside service consisted of the minister (still not having spoken the name of the deceased) going on a loud diatribe against "the church" for creating Pergatory just to make money. My cousin, the deceased's daughter, at the gravesite, came to the minister and said, "you are crazy as hell if you think I am going to pay you," followed by disparaging remarks concerning his mother's dispositon. Okay, now let the hysteria begin.
I am not known for my athletic prowess. I was known as the "easy out" at church softball games, the "belly buster" at the pool, and the one who hit the tennis balls over the fence. Basketball proved to be my most serious undoing, however. In junior high everyone who was not on a sports team was required to play an intramural sport. As if junior high is not humiliating enough. One team had to wear red pennies...you know, little vest-like things that slip over your head...to distinguish them from the other team since all of us were in PE uniforms. Talk about What Not to Wear. Needless to say, there was no coach recruiting me for his/her team so in 7th grade, I played intramural basketball. Of course, my team was the one who had to wear the pennies. Mainly, I sat on the bench, gratefully. But, the moment came when I was called into the game. I had about a nanosecond to take a penny from a teammate and put it on. Much to my chagrin and the frustration of my coach, I found myself standing in the middle of the court with my head and arm through the same hole of the penny. My arm was wedged next to my right ear and my eyes were covered with the penny since the head hole was not large enough for my head and my shoulder. I was not much help to my team in this condition, but the fans certainly were entertained. A prime candidate for the the Litton Intramural Basketball Hall of Shame.
And, the piece de resistance of personal embarrassment. When my son graduated from high school, we went on a 3 week trip out West. My daughter loved to horseback ride, had even taken some classes. Our chance came at Yellowstone National Park. We went to the barn and the wrangler picked out the horses we were to ride. There were several other equestrians in our group. This was going to be fun. The wrangler helped me up on my horse, and I immediately grabbed the reigns holding on for dear life. My horse began to back up. The wrangler yelled release, release. I thought (seriously, I'm not kidding) my horse's name was Release. Why in the world would Release not stop backing up. He is pushing other riders out of the paddock. Then, very loudly, the wrangler yelled, "ma'am release the reigns!!" Oh, Release was not my horse's name, it was the instruction directed at me. One might think that this would be the height of embarrassment for a trail ride, but, no.
The trail ride was rather pleasant. Everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves. Some of the participants were definitely steering clear of me, but Release and I were understanding each other quite well. After an hour or so, it was time to return to the barn and bid our horses and wranglers a fond farewell. My dismount was somewhat less than graceful. Popular at that time were long sweatshirts that came about to one's knees. Speaking of What Not to Wear. As I dismounted, my sweatshirt got caught on the saddle horn. My weight caught in the sweatshirt caught on the saddle horn caused the saddle to slip sideways on Release's belly. I am a rather short person, and could not reach the ground. As I dangled from the saddle horn, laughing uncontrollably, watching my family backing away quickly (they wanted to watch the train wreck, but they didn't want anyone to know they were with the train wreck), I couldn't figure out who was more embarrassed, the horse or me. Was it my imagination that poor Release shuffled back to his stall with his head hanging low?
So for today, I wish you social dignity, poise, grace, and
blessings
Thursday, August 25, 2011
Common Denominator
I'm in a mood. Some people call it being in a funk. My grandmother would occasionally say, "I just feel mean today." She did not have a mean bone in her body, but I understand what she meant. Some people will tell you that everything is on their last nerve. Well, I'm in a mood. Sometimes when I get like this "He who wishes" finds me quite entertaining, as long as he is not the object of my derision, which he seldom is.
I'm pretty sure I know the underlying reason for this mood. I am in anticipation phase of prolonged time spent with someone who manages to always put me in a mood. Let me rephrase that. I am in anticipation of prolonged time spent with someone who I almost always allow to affect my mood. I am the common denominator here...well, that person is too, but I am the one letting myself be so adversely affected. I'm working on it, but I am not making much headway at the moment.
My first realization that I am in a mood came this morning when I pulled into Otter Creek Road on 2 wheels, and a lovely older man made the hand motion for me to slow down. Probably, I scared him and his little dog half to death. Normally, my reaction would be to slow down, and possibly stop and apologize and thank him for his warning. This morning I just gave him the stink eye. Oops, in a mood.
Being in a mood makes me more hypocritical than usual, because I might be smiling graciously at you as you speak, all the time thinking, "will you please just be quiet!" When someone is speaking to me and I find myself thinking that it would be impossible for me to care any less about what they are saying, I know that I am in a mood. Generally, these people are neither particularly long-winded nor boring. I am just in a mood. I am the common denominator.
Do you know people who job, church, or friend hop? Someone is always offending them, or taking advantage of them or ignoring them or, (this is my favorite) not allowing them to use their talents. I have a lot of faults, but I can say that baling on jobs, church, or friends is not one of them. I figure if I am unhappy in those situations and I leave looking for greener pastures, I'll just be taking my problem with me. The common denominator is the problem, and I am the common denominator.
So, I shall be working on my moody old self today. I will tell myself that if my prolonged visit does make me bonkers, I am being foolish in allowing it to ruin my mood in the days leading up to it. I will slow down. I will try not to give people the stink eye. I will listen intently, and offer a silent apology for wanting to box your ears just because you are talking. I will remind myself that you are not responsible for my mood, but that I, the common denominator, am. And, so today, I wish you a happy mood and
blessings
I'm pretty sure I know the underlying reason for this mood. I am in anticipation phase of prolonged time spent with someone who manages to always put me in a mood. Let me rephrase that. I am in anticipation of prolonged time spent with someone who I almost always allow to affect my mood. I am the common denominator here...well, that person is too, but I am the one letting myself be so adversely affected. I'm working on it, but I am not making much headway at the moment.
My first realization that I am in a mood came this morning when I pulled into Otter Creek Road on 2 wheels, and a lovely older man made the hand motion for me to slow down. Probably, I scared him and his little dog half to death. Normally, my reaction would be to slow down, and possibly stop and apologize and thank him for his warning. This morning I just gave him the stink eye. Oops, in a mood.
Being in a mood makes me more hypocritical than usual, because I might be smiling graciously at you as you speak, all the time thinking, "will you please just be quiet!" When someone is speaking to me and I find myself thinking that it would be impossible for me to care any less about what they are saying, I know that I am in a mood. Generally, these people are neither particularly long-winded nor boring. I am just in a mood. I am the common denominator.
Do you know people who job, church, or friend hop? Someone is always offending them, or taking advantage of them or ignoring them or, (this is my favorite) not allowing them to use their talents. I have a lot of faults, but I can say that baling on jobs, church, or friends is not one of them. I figure if I am unhappy in those situations and I leave looking for greener pastures, I'll just be taking my problem with me. The common denominator is the problem, and I am the common denominator.
So, I shall be working on my moody old self today. I will tell myself that if my prolonged visit does make me bonkers, I am being foolish in allowing it to ruin my mood in the days leading up to it. I will slow down. I will try not to give people the stink eye. I will listen intently, and offer a silent apology for wanting to box your ears just because you are talking. I will remind myself that you are not responsible for my mood, but that I, the common denominator, am. And, so today, I wish you a happy mood and
blessings
Tuesday, August 23, 2011
Divine Spark
I once read part of a book entitled The Language of God. The author was a self-proclaimed atheist who set out, by using science, to disprove the existence of God. Things did not work out quite like he intended, thus the title of his book. He was convinced that the intricacies and efficiency of the human body spoke of something more than chance. As he continued his studies, he saw the repetition of the Fibonacci Sequence throughout nature. The Golden Ratio was found in every life form from plants to animals to people. The synchronicity in life convinced him that not only is there a God, He is quite creative.
Not being much of a scientist and being much more simple-minded than Francis Collins, the author, I did not finish the book. Going to a zoo and seeing a giraffe, an elephant, a lion, and a baboon is pretty much all I need to arrive at the same conclusion. Somebody really intelligent and creative and with an amazing sense of humor had to have made all this. But, I am most grateful that Francis Collins met his divine appointment, wrote the book, came to know God the Creator, and shared his findings with the world.
I do believe that we are all stamped with the image of God. I do not know exactly what all that entails. But, one evidence of God's indwelling is creativity. I just love to see people's creativity. I watch Project Runway. I admit it. It fascinates me when the contestants use pet supplies to make clothes. All I know to do with pet supplies is care for a pet.
My kids are creative in different ways. As a nurse, my daughter has to come up with creative ways to make her patients more comfortable. Her husband is one of the most creative teachers I've seen, who finds teaching English to his high school students taking a backseat to teaching them how to live successfully. As an accountant, my daughter-in-law probably should not be too creative in her job, but she excels at creative gift-giving. I always know when she gives a gift that it will be great fun. My son is an exceptional creative problem solver, often building with scrap materials, tools to make a job run more efficiently.
I have friends who are artists. They are constantly creating beautiful works of art. Some of them believe that their art is only successful if they don't give the viewer everything. They give the viewer the opportunity to use their own creativity as they peruse the painting. That way everyone uses their own divine spark to see something different.
One of my friends is not only a brilliant painter, she uses great creativity in titling her paintings. Instead of "Bird on Rock," she uses "Rock Star." She entitled her painting of a farm house in a field, "Simple Living." Instead of "Sheep Staring Into Space," she has "Waiting for Ewe." I love that. Tom shows her creative spark in not only her paintings and their titles, but in her home, her brilliant reuse of old items, tablescapes and the list goes on and on.
I have another friend who is pretty new to painting. She has embraced it full force, as she does most things. Probably more than anybody I know, she is constantly fanning her divine spark. While most of my friends who paint, paint a landscape or still life that they can view, Martha often paints what she conjures in her head. She has less a divine spark and more a divine bonfire going on.
There is a guitar company here called Batson Guitars. The divine spark in those Batson brothers is obvious. One of them has basically revolutionized the building of guitars. He has a brilliant mind. The other is genius at marketing. They have a traveling guitar going around the country right now. It gives guitarists an opportunity to have and play a Batson Guitar for a period of time, and then pass it on to another. What a creative way to get those guitars into people's hands. Both brothers play the guitar, and at least one of them writes original music. I think of their creativity as divine sparklers shooting creative, beautiful light through their music and their instruments.
So, while there are many characteristics that evidence the image of God on each of us, creativity, in whatever form, speaks loudly of God the creator. So for today, I wish you a blaze of creativity and
blessings
Not being much of a scientist and being much more simple-minded than Francis Collins, the author, I did not finish the book. Going to a zoo and seeing a giraffe, an elephant, a lion, and a baboon is pretty much all I need to arrive at the same conclusion. Somebody really intelligent and creative and with an amazing sense of humor had to have made all this. But, I am most grateful that Francis Collins met his divine appointment, wrote the book, came to know God the Creator, and shared his findings with the world.
I do believe that we are all stamped with the image of God. I do not know exactly what all that entails. But, one evidence of God's indwelling is creativity. I just love to see people's creativity. I watch Project Runway. I admit it. It fascinates me when the contestants use pet supplies to make clothes. All I know to do with pet supplies is care for a pet.
My kids are creative in different ways. As a nurse, my daughter has to come up with creative ways to make her patients more comfortable. Her husband is one of the most creative teachers I've seen, who finds teaching English to his high school students taking a backseat to teaching them how to live successfully. As an accountant, my daughter-in-law probably should not be too creative in her job, but she excels at creative gift-giving. I always know when she gives a gift that it will be great fun. My son is an exceptional creative problem solver, often building with scrap materials, tools to make a job run more efficiently.
I have friends who are artists. They are constantly creating beautiful works of art. Some of them believe that their art is only successful if they don't give the viewer everything. They give the viewer the opportunity to use their own creativity as they peruse the painting. That way everyone uses their own divine spark to see something different.
One of my friends is not only a brilliant painter, she uses great creativity in titling her paintings. Instead of "Bird on Rock," she uses "Rock Star." She entitled her painting of a farm house in a field, "Simple Living." Instead of "Sheep Staring Into Space," she has "Waiting for Ewe." I love that. Tom shows her creative spark in not only her paintings and their titles, but in her home, her brilliant reuse of old items, tablescapes and the list goes on and on.
I have another friend who is pretty new to painting. She has embraced it full force, as she does most things. Probably more than anybody I know, she is constantly fanning her divine spark. While most of my friends who paint, paint a landscape or still life that they can view, Martha often paints what she conjures in her head. She has less a divine spark and more a divine bonfire going on.
There is a guitar company here called Batson Guitars. The divine spark in those Batson brothers is obvious. One of them has basically revolutionized the building of guitars. He has a brilliant mind. The other is genius at marketing. They have a traveling guitar going around the country right now. It gives guitarists an opportunity to have and play a Batson Guitar for a period of time, and then pass it on to another. What a creative way to get those guitars into people's hands. Both brothers play the guitar, and at least one of them writes original music. I think of their creativity as divine sparklers shooting creative, beautiful light through their music and their instruments.
So, while there are many characteristics that evidence the image of God on each of us, creativity, in whatever form, speaks loudly of God the creator. So for today, I wish you a blaze of creativity and
blessings
Monday, August 22, 2011
Divine Appointments
We have all been participants in divine appointments. Some call them coincidences. I am not a big believer in coincidence. I do like the word serendipity, but I figure most serendipitous events are really divine appointments.
An example is how I met "he who wishes to remain unnamed on FB, " heretofore known as "he who wishes." Some of you will find this convoluted thinking, but bear with me. Christmas break of my junior year, on my way to buy books for winter quarter, I had a car wreck. I was not viewing this as a divine appointment. At that point it was just the result of poor driving in pouring rain by an elderly woman from Russellville, KY. I was not happy.
Injuries caused me to miss the first weeks of a short quarter. Upon my return to school, I looked around for someone whose notes I could borrow to try to get caught up. As I stood in the hall on crutches, and with blackened eyes, "he who wishes" walked past and very debonairly said, "hi, Melinda." Shyly, I replied, "hi." He walked a few feet past me, returned and said, "your name is not Melinda, is it?" I said, "no." I can be quite the social pygmy.
I knew him to be an excellent student ~ in a previous class, I had gotten a 94 on a test, which was a C because the teacher always graded on the curve, and "he who wishes" had make a perfect score~ so I asked if he would be willing to loan me his notes. He agreed. Had I realized what poor handwriting he had, or that another girls' name would be scribbled in the margins, perhaps I would have asked to borrow someone else's notes. But, then there was that divine appointment that needed to be met. We have been married 37 years. I wonder how many failed marriages would have succeeded if the meeting of those involved had been considered divine appointment instead of coincidence.
Bathrooms in churches always seem crowded. In our old church building, they were extremely so. Oftentimes, people would complain about that, but my mother, on more than one occasion, used that opportunity to meet new friends. If we had had spacious bathrooms, Mom would have missed some important divine appointments, and her life would have been diminished had she missed out on the opportunity of knowing and loving those new people. I wonder how much complaining would be unrealized if inconveniences were seen as divine appointment.
Several weeks ago, I was walking at Radnor with a friend. We were short of our destination when I told her that I just did not have it in me that morning to continue. We turned around. When we arrived at the parking lot, I saw a friend with whom I had graduated high school. She lives in Atlanta. I have not seen her in years. It was a short but joyful reunion. Had I not finished my walk early, I would have missed her. What a lovely divine appointment.
This morning at Radnor, I felt rushed. I needed to get to the store. I have work to do around the house. (Yeah, I know, I'm spending time blogging that I could be using to get my "chores" done. Well, today, blogging is my divine appointment. If I fail to meet this appointment, I might become ill from cleaner fumes or something.) I debated with myself about turning around or continuing. Today, my divine appointment was to be met as a result of continuing instead of turning around. As I walked on, I was blessed by what I consider the glory of God bursting forth.
So, I'm glad I met my divine appointment this morning. This glimpse of the beauty of God's good creation would have been there for the viewing, but I would have missed it had I turned around.
As I was leaving Radnor, I struck up a short conversation with a woman who was taking a photo of a much smaller and less spectaculor spider web. I told her of this one beyond the entrance to the lake trail. She was excited to hear of it. Perhaps, she got her picture. Maybe, just maybe, she
considered running into me as a divine appointment.
So, you can have your coincidences. I'll take my divine
appointments. Somehow, believing the divine is involved in
the inconveniences, delays, and "accidents" in my life, gives them all more meaning and purpose. There are countless divine appointments that I don't recognize as such, but I live in gratitude for each and every one.
So, on this day, I wish for you wonderful divine appointments and,
blessings
An example is how I met "he who wishes to remain unnamed on FB, " heretofore known as "he who wishes." Some of you will find this convoluted thinking, but bear with me. Christmas break of my junior year, on my way to buy books for winter quarter, I had a car wreck. I was not viewing this as a divine appointment. At that point it was just the result of poor driving in pouring rain by an elderly woman from Russellville, KY. I was not happy.
Injuries caused me to miss the first weeks of a short quarter. Upon my return to school, I looked around for someone whose notes I could borrow to try to get caught up. As I stood in the hall on crutches, and with blackened eyes, "he who wishes" walked past and very debonairly said, "hi, Melinda." Shyly, I replied, "hi." He walked a few feet past me, returned and said, "your name is not Melinda, is it?" I said, "no." I can be quite the social pygmy.
I knew him to be an excellent student ~ in a previous class, I had gotten a 94 on a test, which was a C because the teacher always graded on the curve, and "he who wishes" had make a perfect score~ so I asked if he would be willing to loan me his notes. He agreed. Had I realized what poor handwriting he had, or that another girls' name would be scribbled in the margins, perhaps I would have asked to borrow someone else's notes. But, then there was that divine appointment that needed to be met. We have been married 37 years. I wonder how many failed marriages would have succeeded if the meeting of those involved had been considered divine appointment instead of coincidence.
Bathrooms in churches always seem crowded. In our old church building, they were extremely so. Oftentimes, people would complain about that, but my mother, on more than one occasion, used that opportunity to meet new friends. If we had had spacious bathrooms, Mom would have missed some important divine appointments, and her life would have been diminished had she missed out on the opportunity of knowing and loving those new people. I wonder how much complaining would be unrealized if inconveniences were seen as divine appointment.
Several weeks ago, I was walking at Radnor with a friend. We were short of our destination when I told her that I just did not have it in me that morning to continue. We turned around. When we arrived at the parking lot, I saw a friend with whom I had graduated high school. She lives in Atlanta. I have not seen her in years. It was a short but joyful reunion. Had I not finished my walk early, I would have missed her. What a lovely divine appointment.
This morning at Radnor, I felt rushed. I needed to get to the store. I have work to do around the house. (Yeah, I know, I'm spending time blogging that I could be using to get my "chores" done. Well, today, blogging is my divine appointment. If I fail to meet this appointment, I might become ill from cleaner fumes or something.) I debated with myself about turning around or continuing. Today, my divine appointment was to be met as a result of continuing instead of turning around. As I walked on, I was blessed by what I consider the glory of God bursting forth.
So, I'm glad I met my divine appointment this morning. This glimpse of the beauty of God's good creation would have been there for the viewing, but I would have missed it had I turned around. As I was leaving Radnor, I struck up a short conversation with a woman who was taking a photo of a much smaller and less spectaculor spider web. I told her of this one beyond the entrance to the lake trail. She was excited to hear of it. Perhaps, she got her picture. Maybe, just maybe, she
considered running into me as a divine appointment.
So, you can have your coincidences. I'll take my divine
appointments. Somehow, believing the divine is involved in
the inconveniences, delays, and "accidents" in my life, gives them all more meaning and purpose. There are countless divine appointments that I don't recognize as such, but I live in gratitude for each and every one.
So, on this day, I wish for you wonderful divine appointments and,blessings
Friday, August 19, 2011
Arrivals
In an earlier post entitled "Schedules," I wrote about my friend who said that learning of his terminal disease was like being at the train station, waiting for the train, with no schedule. Yesterday morning, very early, his train arrived. For those who loved him, his train was running ahead of schedule. I believe he considered the train to be right on time.
He was a man of many talents. He was extremely intelligent. He used information in his job that was and is way over my head. He gardened, and that is quite the understatement. He cooked. He worked tirelessly in his community library. He loved to travel. He loved learning. Even after he was confined to his home, he kept his mind busy using his computer, often sending me items of interest to pass along to the senior citizens of our church family. He was a man who did not do things in a mediocre way.
He was a husband. He was a dad. He was a granddad. He was a friend. He was a most useful citizen. He was a leader in our church. He told a great story when we visited with him a couple weeks ago. He served in the eldership at church for about 8 years. During that time two different preachers were let go. This was before everyone had cell phones. When it became evident that the first fellow needed to move on, the eldership wanted to be sure everyone agreed. My friend was in Hawaii. They tracked him down. The second time, he was in Alaska. Once again, they were able to track him down to get his input. His opinion mattered.
One time he told me to shut up in a board meeting. I admit that I was stunned into silence. I am certain that it was "advice" that I desperately needed to hear. In my youthful and "infallible wisdom," I was spouting my opinion about something of which I knew very little. It stung a little at the time, but shortly afterwards, I realized that he gave me a wonderful gift in reminding me that a few words go a long way, and that I really don't know everything.
I am happy for him, that he is no longer waiting for that train. I am sorry that I did not spend more time in his presence these past months of his life. He became ill at about the time I had back surgery, and I sort of let life become all about me during my recovery. I am grateful for the time I was able to spend with him and other friends that Wednesday evening. I will miss him. As another friend, who served with him, said, it is another loss from that era of our church family.
I have no idea what happens when one leaves this part of his or her journey through eternity, but I like to think there is a joyful reunion going on with Carolyn and Frank and Ruth and Zona and Charlie and Helen and Howard and Gussie and Buddy and Big John and Kennedy and Willene among others, as they welcome Hugh.
So, while Hugh will be greatly missed, we are confident in the safety of his travels, for we know the engineer of his train. For us all, I wish joy in the wait at the station and
blessings
He was a man of many talents. He was extremely intelligent. He used information in his job that was and is way over my head. He gardened, and that is quite the understatement. He cooked. He worked tirelessly in his community library. He loved to travel. He loved learning. Even after he was confined to his home, he kept his mind busy using his computer, often sending me items of interest to pass along to the senior citizens of our church family. He was a man who did not do things in a mediocre way.
He was a husband. He was a dad. He was a granddad. He was a friend. He was a most useful citizen. He was a leader in our church. He told a great story when we visited with him a couple weeks ago. He served in the eldership at church for about 8 years. During that time two different preachers were let go. This was before everyone had cell phones. When it became evident that the first fellow needed to move on, the eldership wanted to be sure everyone agreed. My friend was in Hawaii. They tracked him down. The second time, he was in Alaska. Once again, they were able to track him down to get his input. His opinion mattered.
One time he told me to shut up in a board meeting. I admit that I was stunned into silence. I am certain that it was "advice" that I desperately needed to hear. In my youthful and "infallible wisdom," I was spouting my opinion about something of which I knew very little. It stung a little at the time, but shortly afterwards, I realized that he gave me a wonderful gift in reminding me that a few words go a long way, and that I really don't know everything.
I am happy for him, that he is no longer waiting for that train. I am sorry that I did not spend more time in his presence these past months of his life. He became ill at about the time I had back surgery, and I sort of let life become all about me during my recovery. I am grateful for the time I was able to spend with him and other friends that Wednesday evening. I will miss him. As another friend, who served with him, said, it is another loss from that era of our church family.
I have no idea what happens when one leaves this part of his or her journey through eternity, but I like to think there is a joyful reunion going on with Carolyn and Frank and Ruth and Zona and Charlie and Helen and Howard and Gussie and Buddy and Big John and Kennedy and Willene among others, as they welcome Hugh.
So, while Hugh will be greatly missed, we are confident in the safety of his travels, for we know the engineer of his train. For us all, I wish joy in the wait at the station and
blessings
Wednesday, August 17, 2011
Gumption
I love to see people with gumption.
Once, a teacher made an unflattering remark about a student to another student. It so happened that the student who was privy to the comment reported it to the object of the statement. What teacher with gumption makes an unkind remark about a ninth grade girl to another ninth grade girl? You can see that the teacher is not my example of someone with gumption. But, the student who had been spoken of unkindly did have gumption. She did not talk about it with other girls. She went straight to the teacher, respectfully explained how inappropriate and unappreciated her remark was, and requested that the teacher not talk about her behind her back anymore. The teacher, embarrassed, sputtered a weak apology. Gumption can stop injustices.
Years ago, I had a friend who looked to be on the brink of serious financial trouble. She decided to do something to try to circumvent her almost definite economic fall. She turned to a talent that she really had not seriously pursued before. She began to paint. She worked and studied and painted, and began to sell her paintings. She is now in galleries all over the United States, and has gained a reknown the likes of which, she never dreamed. She did not sit and have a pity party. She had gumption. She went about her efforts intelligently and thoughtfully. Gumption improves situations.
I have had friends whose marriages have failed. It happens. It is devastating. But, some of those friends have become bitter and angry, which I understand. I haven't experienced that kind of loss, so I want to be sure I don't sound judgmental of them...at all. But, I do admire the gumption of the friends who refused to bad-mouth their spouses. I admire the gumption of those who go out and socialize and spend time with friends. I have a friend who divorced. She had one child. She remarried. Her ex husband remarried. The two couples became friends and even went out to dinner together at times. She had the gumption to set herself aside for the sake of her son, and in so doing, everyone who loved her knew that was expected of them as well. Gumption heals wounds.
So, thank you, all of you with gumption. For all, I wish gumption and
blessings
Once, a teacher made an unflattering remark about a student to another student. It so happened that the student who was privy to the comment reported it to the object of the statement. What teacher with gumption makes an unkind remark about a ninth grade girl to another ninth grade girl? You can see that the teacher is not my example of someone with gumption. But, the student who had been spoken of unkindly did have gumption. She did not talk about it with other girls. She went straight to the teacher, respectfully explained how inappropriate and unappreciated her remark was, and requested that the teacher not talk about her behind her back anymore. The teacher, embarrassed, sputtered a weak apology. Gumption can stop injustices.
Years ago, I had a friend who looked to be on the brink of serious financial trouble. She decided to do something to try to circumvent her almost definite economic fall. She turned to a talent that she really had not seriously pursued before. She began to paint. She worked and studied and painted, and began to sell her paintings. She is now in galleries all over the United States, and has gained a reknown the likes of which, she never dreamed. She did not sit and have a pity party. She had gumption. She went about her efforts intelligently and thoughtfully. Gumption improves situations.
I have had friends whose marriages have failed. It happens. It is devastating. But, some of those friends have become bitter and angry, which I understand. I haven't experienced that kind of loss, so I want to be sure I don't sound judgmental of them...at all. But, I do admire the gumption of the friends who refused to bad-mouth their spouses. I admire the gumption of those who go out and socialize and spend time with friends. I have a friend who divorced. She had one child. She remarried. Her ex husband remarried. The two couples became friends and even went out to dinner together at times. She had the gumption to set herself aside for the sake of her son, and in so doing, everyone who loved her knew that was expected of them as well. Gumption heals wounds.
So, thank you, all of you with gumption. For all, I wish gumption and
blessings
Tuesday, August 16, 2011
Courage
Saturday, 'he who wishes to remain unnamed on FB" gently laid down a gauntlet in my pathway. He did it with encouraging words. I have been tiptoeing and stutter-stepping through that challenge ever since. Fear is holding me hostage. Fear that I will not succeed. Fear that I don't have the self-discipline to do the work to accomplish the goal. I think of myself as having more courage than that, but, I'm feeling stymied at the moment about this thing. I appreciate his encouragment. Soon, soon (picture my fingers crossed) I will face the challenge head-on.
My son is fearless. He always has been. I remember a day in particular when he asked us all to watch as he jumped across the creek in our backyard. Unfortunately, he was in his Sunday clothes and did not quite make it all the way across. Result: torn pants, bloody shins, perhaps a temporary sense of failure, but he remained undaunted, and courageously lived to jump the creek many times again.
One of the reasons he is fearless is that he is not afraid to fail. He sees the value in "failure." When something does not work out the first time for him, he is challenged to find a way to make it work. There is joy for him in the search for another way. That takes great courage. There are countless stories of Marshall being asked if he could do something and his replying "yes" even though he had never done anything like that before. With courage, he does not let "can't" cross his mind.
My daughter has a great can-do spirit as well. She taps into her creativity in her home, in her job, and in the way she relates to others. When there is a job to be done, she may study options, and then courageously move forward. While Marshall sort of enjoys the "failure step," MP will do the preliminary work to try to avoid that step altogether. And yet, if failure occurs, she keeps on until she reaches the desired goal.
I apologize if this post has a sense of the self-indulgent, bragging on my kids and such. I have a quotation pinned above my computer that Marshall sent me: "A mom reads you like a book, and wherever she goes, people read you like a glowing book review." He added, "not sure who said it, but it made me think of you." I am glad it did.
So, I have much to learn from my kids. I will try to emulate them as I consider meeting the challenge laid before me on Saturday. I will need their encouragement to help me not let the thoughts, "I can't" creep in and defeat me before I even get started. Like the Cowardly Lion, I need courage.
For whatever is causing you fear, I wish you courage and
blessings
My son is fearless. He always has been. I remember a day in particular when he asked us all to watch as he jumped across the creek in our backyard. Unfortunately, he was in his Sunday clothes and did not quite make it all the way across. Result: torn pants, bloody shins, perhaps a temporary sense of failure, but he remained undaunted, and courageously lived to jump the creek many times again.
One of the reasons he is fearless is that he is not afraid to fail. He sees the value in "failure." When something does not work out the first time for him, he is challenged to find a way to make it work. There is joy for him in the search for another way. That takes great courage. There are countless stories of Marshall being asked if he could do something and his replying "yes" even though he had never done anything like that before. With courage, he does not let "can't" cross his mind.
My daughter has a great can-do spirit as well. She taps into her creativity in her home, in her job, and in the way she relates to others. When there is a job to be done, she may study options, and then courageously move forward. While Marshall sort of enjoys the "failure step," MP will do the preliminary work to try to avoid that step altogether. And yet, if failure occurs, she keeps on until she reaches the desired goal.
I apologize if this post has a sense of the self-indulgent, bragging on my kids and such. I have a quotation pinned above my computer that Marshall sent me: "A mom reads you like a book, and wherever she goes, people read you like a glowing book review." He added, "not sure who said it, but it made me think of you." I am glad it did.
So, I have much to learn from my kids. I will try to emulate them as I consider meeting the challenge laid before me on Saturday. I will need their encouragement to help me not let the thoughts, "I can't" creep in and defeat me before I even get started. Like the Cowardly Lion, I need courage.
For whatever is causing you fear, I wish you courage and
blessings
Monday, August 15, 2011
Feasting
Basically, I live in the city. Depending on traffic it takes 10 - 20 minutes to get from my house to the heart of downtown. Three minutes from my house there is a place I love. It is a place where I feast many mornings. It is called Radnor. I never go there that I do not feel blessed by my good fortune to have it so close by.
The sounds of Radnor are exquisitely peaceful ~ the sounds of the geese as they travel over the lake ~
the splash of a beaver as he enters the water. I love the music of the songbirds. Occasionally, I will hear a woodpecker going about his job in the woods. Often there are bullfrogs on either side of the road sharing the morning news of the forest. I love the sound of my own footsteps going across a wooden bridge, a gravel drive, or a mulched trail. In the summer, there is the ever-present hum of dry weather bugs. There is comfort in the greetings from those I see each day. Just a fast 'good morning' as we continue on our walks. Sometimes I walk with friends, and our conversation drowns out the melodies of nature. But, the sounds of my friends' voices sharing their lives is beautiful to me as well. Radnor is a feast for the ears.
It is the feast for the eyes, however, that I try to capture with my camera. Most mornings it is with me. The comraderie of the creatures living there is a feast. I love this shot of the deer having an algae breakfast. The heron seems oblivious
to their presence while the little bird sitting
on the branch seems content to just watch over them all. It is a blessing to know this is just minutes from my home.
In May 2010 a flood came through Radnor and created much devastation. Some of the remains have resulted in beautiful sculptures far more beautiful than anything done with armature, clay, and bronze. Many areas in town where the flood occured have been cleared out and cleaned up. Radnor is, for the most part, left to deteriorate and renew in its own time.
The sounds of Radnor are exquisitely peaceful ~ the sounds of the geese as they travel over the lake ~
the splash of a beaver as he enters the water. I love the music of the songbirds. Occasionally, I will hear a woodpecker going about his job in the woods. Often there are bullfrogs on either side of the road sharing the morning news of the forest. I love the sound of my own footsteps going across a wooden bridge, a gravel drive, or a mulched trail. In the summer, there is the ever-present hum of dry weather bugs. There is comfort in the greetings from those I see each day. Just a fast 'good morning' as we continue on our walks. Sometimes I walk with friends, and our conversation drowns out the melodies of nature. But, the sounds of my friends' voices sharing their lives is beautiful to me as well. Radnor is a feast for the ears.
It is the feast for the eyes, however, that I try to capture with my camera. Most mornings it is with me. The comraderie of the creatures living there is a feast. I love this shot of the deer having an algae breakfast. The heron seems oblivious
to their presence while the little bird sitting
on the branch seems content to just watch over them all. It is a blessing to know this is just minutes from my home.
In May 2010 a flood came through Radnor and created much devastation. Some of the remains have resulted in beautiful sculptures far more beautiful than anything done with armature, clay, and bronze. Many areas in town where the flood occured have been cleared out and cleaned up. Radnor is, for the most part, left to deteriorate and renew in its own time.
In a previous post, I mentioned the Tuna Sandwich Gang. One of our group died at the age of 42. We were not ready to lose her. She has been missed ever since. In our effort to honor her memory, we dedicated a bench to her on the Lake Trail. It was a beautiful Sunday morning when we walked from church to Radnor, communion in hand to dedicate Millie's Bench. We sang, As the Deer, a favorite song, shared stories, cried a little, laughed a little, and left a feast for the spirits of each of us who walk that trail, stop at that bench, and offer a prayer of thanksgiving that we were blessed to have had Millie in our lives.
So, I have feasted today. I have feasted with gratitude and with anticipation of future feasts. Radnor is different every day. It dies, it renews, and it consistently continues that cycle. It is comforting to know that in a world of strife and turmoil and uncertainty, that some things are certain. I know that I can look forward with confidence to the day when the lion will lie down with the lamb, and all will be safe.
blessings
Saturday, August 13, 2011
Maclellan
Thursday, my daughter and I had lunch with my niece. She is leaving for college next week. This is her sophomore year. She attended a school in town for her freshman year. This will be her first time away from home, and our first time for her to be away. I am thrilled for her. I think she will love being away. I am going to miss her.
One of the most obvious characteristics of Maclellan is her servant's heart. She won't leave Nunny's house after dinner without being sure the kitchen is cleaned up. She is the one who always gets stuff down from Nunny's attic. She loves making runs to the Williamson County dump. I would rather have Mac helping me with any hard job than just about anybody else I know. She does not create drama. She is a good friend. She is a good sister. She is a most precious niece. She is great fun to spend time with. And...there is that million dollar smile that is irresistible.
We enjoyed our lunch with her Thursday. I wondered why I have not done more of that. I am anticipating some drives to Arkansas to visit while she is there. I will miss her on Halloween. I will look forward to the annual lighting of Nunny's tree with her during Thanksgiving weekend. I hope she loves school in Arkansas. I hope she doesn't love Arkansas, but rather longs to return home upon her graduation. I hope she knows how much she's loved.
However your life unfolds, I pray, Mac:
"The Lord bless you and keep you;
the Lord make his face shine upon you
and be gracious to you;
the Lord turn his face toward you and give you peace." Numbers 6:24-26
blessings
Aunt Mellie
She is about 2 or 3 in this picture. She still has that million dollar smile. I am 15 years older than her mother, my sister, so when Maclellan came along, my children were in school, and I had the opportunity to spend lots of time with her. I taught her important things ~ like how to stick her tongue out. One of our favorite memories is being at Christmas Village with Maclellan in her stroller. She was probably about 18 months old. A lovely lady walked by and commented on how precious Mac was. Mac immediately stuck her tongue out at the lady. I am fairly certain that lady was quite concerned about Mac's upbringing as her mom, her grandmother and I broke out into peals of laughter. We thought everything she did was hilarious, and it pretty much was ~ and is.
We are a family who loves nicknames. Maclellan has more than most. An obvious one is Mac, but she is also known as Clelly Mac, ClellBell, Worm, Mac-a-doodle, among others. When she was small, she could tell a story like no body's business. She made them up as she went along and inserted conversations, which never happened, along with wild and crazy adventures she had not, in fact, experienced. She was very entertaining ~ and still is.
One of the most obvious characteristics of Maclellan is her servant's heart. She won't leave Nunny's house after dinner without being sure the kitchen is cleaned up. She is the one who always gets stuff down from Nunny's attic. She loves making runs to the Williamson County dump. I would rather have Mac helping me with any hard job than just about anybody else I know. She does not create drama. She is a good friend. She is a good sister. She is a most precious niece. She is great fun to spend time with. And...there is that million dollar smile that is irresistible.
We enjoyed our lunch with her Thursday. I wondered why I have not done more of that. I am anticipating some drives to Arkansas to visit while she is there. I will miss her on Halloween. I will look forward to the annual lighting of Nunny's tree with her during Thanksgiving weekend. I hope she loves school in Arkansas. I hope she doesn't love Arkansas, but rather longs to return home upon her graduation. I hope she knows how much she's loved.
However your life unfolds, I pray, Mac:
"The Lord bless you and keep you;
the Lord make his face shine upon you
and be gracious to you;
the Lord turn his face toward you and give you peace." Numbers 6:24-26
blessings
Aunt Mellie
Thursday, August 11, 2011
"YOU"
"You wouldn't worry so much about what people think about you if you knew how seldom they did."
Outside of Biblical truth, this is the single most important concept my mother taught me. It is a philosphy of freedom.
We all know people whose feelings are easily wounded. If some people are told, "I don't like your shoes," they immediately think, "why don't YOU like me?" I think, "who asked YOU?"
I have been guilty at times of wondering why YOU did not like me. YOU never told me YOU did not like me, but I picked up a "disliking vibe" from YOU, an indifference, if you will. How utterly absurd. Do I seriously think that YOU looked in the mirror that morning, and while brushing YOUR teeth decided that YOUR goal for that day was to snub me? I really don't think I am that important.
Bullying is a huge problem in our schools...well, in life. Parents bully kids. Teachers bully kids. Kids bully kids. Bosses bully employees. Spouses bully spouses. There is no aspect of life that doesn't involve some sort of bullying.
A friend and I have developed the early stages of a program to help children learn how to deal with bullying. We have had training sessions for five or six different groups. Of course, a huge part of anti-bullying training is to help children not become bullies, but for me, the most important part is to not let oneself be a target for bullying. DO NOT FEED THE BULLY.
Coming to understand why a bully bullies is important, but the part of our sessions that I hit the hardest is the concept that "just because somebody says it about you doesn't make it true. When my children were little, sometimes my daughter would come to me crying, "he said I was stupid!" I would reply, "well, are you stupid?" She would say, "no!" I would say, "then tell him he is mistaken." Replies like that take the wind out of the sails of bullies. Of course, not always, and of course, I am talking about relative minor episodes of bullying.
Sometimes not worrying about what people think about you can make you a little dense. It is a denseness I can live with. Years ago, we had several couple friends who spent a lot of time together. We traveled as couples and with our families. We could often be seen out having dinner or going to a movie. We had each other in our homes. There came a time when I began to sense that one couple was distancing themselves from "he who wishes to remain unnamed on FB" and me. Finally, I asked one of our mutual friends if we had done anything to hurt or offend the other couple. The reply was filled with great relief as I was told that it had been a year and a half since that couple decided they did not want to be friends with us anymore, and everybody else was just waiting for us to figure it out. Talk about dense.
Not worrying about what people think about you and realizing that they don't all that often, frees one up for being concerned for the well-being of others. When YOU are indifferent, rude, angry or hateful, I would be much better off to understand where YOU are coming from than to take what YOU have said or done personally. YOU pretty much have to come to me and say, "I am doing/saying this so it will hurt your feelings," and even then my thoughts usually go along the lines of, "YOU have something seriously wrong with YOU."
I do and don't do enough things on my own to cause myself to seek introspection and self-analysis without abdicating my well-being to YOU. So, while I love YOU, and I want YOU to be happy, please forgive me when I don't let YOU hurt me, and when I assume that I am not the target of YOUR disdain.....even if I am.
blessings
Outside of Biblical truth, this is the single most important concept my mother taught me. It is a philosphy of freedom.
We all know people whose feelings are easily wounded. If some people are told, "I don't like your shoes," they immediately think, "why don't YOU like me?" I think, "who asked YOU?"
I have been guilty at times of wondering why YOU did not like me. YOU never told me YOU did not like me, but I picked up a "disliking vibe" from YOU, an indifference, if you will. How utterly absurd. Do I seriously think that YOU looked in the mirror that morning, and while brushing YOUR teeth decided that YOUR goal for that day was to snub me? I really don't think I am that important.
Bullying is a huge problem in our schools...well, in life. Parents bully kids. Teachers bully kids. Kids bully kids. Bosses bully employees. Spouses bully spouses. There is no aspect of life that doesn't involve some sort of bullying.
A friend and I have developed the early stages of a program to help children learn how to deal with bullying. We have had training sessions for five or six different groups. Of course, a huge part of anti-bullying training is to help children not become bullies, but for me, the most important part is to not let oneself be a target for bullying. DO NOT FEED THE BULLY.
Coming to understand why a bully bullies is important, but the part of our sessions that I hit the hardest is the concept that "just because somebody says it about you doesn't make it true. When my children were little, sometimes my daughter would come to me crying, "he said I was stupid!" I would reply, "well, are you stupid?" She would say, "no!" I would say, "then tell him he is mistaken." Replies like that take the wind out of the sails of bullies. Of course, not always, and of course, I am talking about relative minor episodes of bullying.
Sometimes not worrying about what people think about you can make you a little dense. It is a denseness I can live with. Years ago, we had several couple friends who spent a lot of time together. We traveled as couples and with our families. We could often be seen out having dinner or going to a movie. We had each other in our homes. There came a time when I began to sense that one couple was distancing themselves from "he who wishes to remain unnamed on FB" and me. Finally, I asked one of our mutual friends if we had done anything to hurt or offend the other couple. The reply was filled with great relief as I was told that it had been a year and a half since that couple decided they did not want to be friends with us anymore, and everybody else was just waiting for us to figure it out. Talk about dense.
Not worrying about what people think about you and realizing that they don't all that often, frees one up for being concerned for the well-being of others. When YOU are indifferent, rude, angry or hateful, I would be much better off to understand where YOU are coming from than to take what YOU have said or done personally. YOU pretty much have to come to me and say, "I am doing/saying this so it will hurt your feelings," and even then my thoughts usually go along the lines of, "YOU have something seriously wrong with YOU."
I do and don't do enough things on my own to cause myself to seek introspection and self-analysis without abdicating my well-being to YOU. So, while I love YOU, and I want YOU to be happy, please forgive me when I don't let YOU hurt me, and when I assume that I am not the target of YOUR disdain.....even if I am.
blessings
Wednesday, August 10, 2011
"ME"
Several years ago I read this quote: "People wrapped up in themselves make very small packages." I love that because we all know some small packages. Actually, all of us are small packages from time to time. Well, I take that back. My sister-in-law, Vickie, I don't think has ever had a moment where her life was all about her. She is quite exceptional, and the subject for another day, perhaps.
Recently, I had a phone conversation with someone who is known for being self-interested. I called her. She asked how the weekend went at the yard sale, and if I bought anything.
And, I quote...me: "Yes, I got some ice tea spoons and..."
her: "Oh, great. Where did y'all go?"
me: "Well, we drove to Jamestown and worked our way south. We spent the night in...."
her: "Oh, great. Well, now what can I tell you about what I've been doing? I went to the funeral home yesterday and saw (interject names of people I have never met nor will ever meet)....."
It was about this time that I started playing Free Cell as I "listened" and inserted what I hoped was a well-placed "oh, really, that's nice," here and there. She told me that she had been thinking of us and wondering about our weekend. My cynical side questioned (silently) if her phone could no longer dial out.
Call me crazy, but I don't think she was particularly interested in my weekend. I think she wanted to be interested, but she cannot fight her way out of that small package. I'll give her this, she never disappoints. I am a great prognosticator of how a conversation, nay, a monologue, will go with her. It's who she is. I must love her anyway.
Have you ever had a conversation with someone who says, "right, right, right, right, right." Good grief. They might as well be saying, "I don't care, I don't care, I don't care, " or "you are boring me, you are boring me, you are boring me."
I'll admit, I've caused many a glazed-over expression as I chatter on in my "what now" fog. Fortunately, the good Lord has blessed me with children who will say, "Mom, get to the point, or Mom, the cashier does not care why you bought 3 oranges, razors, and a bag of chips." I encourage them to tell me when I am doing that sort of thing. Sometimes, I get so caught up in what I am certain is a riveting story that I don't quite pick up on the expression of the poor sufferer on the other side. I do not want to prattle on and confirm that I'm getting up in years.
Oh, and as an aside...not everyone appreciates the question, "is it really germane to the story?" I learned that the hard way.
blessings
Recently, I had a phone conversation with someone who is known for being self-interested. I called her. She asked how the weekend went at the yard sale, and if I bought anything.
And, I quote...me: "Yes, I got some ice tea spoons and..."
her: "Oh, great. Where did y'all go?"
me: "Well, we drove to Jamestown and worked our way south. We spent the night in...."
her: "Oh, great. Well, now what can I tell you about what I've been doing? I went to the funeral home yesterday and saw (interject names of people I have never met nor will ever meet)....."
It was about this time that I started playing Free Cell as I "listened" and inserted what I hoped was a well-placed "oh, really, that's nice," here and there. She told me that she had been thinking of us and wondering about our weekend. My cynical side questioned (silently) if her phone could no longer dial out.
Call me crazy, but I don't think she was particularly interested in my weekend. I think she wanted to be interested, but she cannot fight her way out of that small package. I'll give her this, she never disappoints. I am a great prognosticator of how a conversation, nay, a monologue, will go with her. It's who she is. I must love her anyway.
Have you ever had a conversation with someone who says, "right, right, right, right, right." Good grief. They might as well be saying, "I don't care, I don't care, I don't care, " or "you are boring me, you are boring me, you are boring me."
I'll admit, I've caused many a glazed-over expression as I chatter on in my "what now" fog. Fortunately, the good Lord has blessed me with children who will say, "Mom, get to the point, or Mom, the cashier does not care why you bought 3 oranges, razors, and a bag of chips." I encourage them to tell me when I am doing that sort of thing. Sometimes, I get so caught up in what I am certain is a riveting story that I don't quite pick up on the expression of the poor sufferer on the other side. I do not want to prattle on and confirm that I'm getting up in years.
Oh, and as an aside...not everyone appreciates the question, "is it really germane to the story?" I learned that the hard way.
blessings
Tuesday, August 9, 2011
Proclamations
We all know people who are inflexible. The towels MUST be folded this way, the dishwasher loaded MY way, dinner must be at THIS time, no, the map says to go RIGHT, you WILL not miss school unless you are sick...yada, yada, yada. Inflexible people fatigue me. I wonder how many serendipitously marvelous adventures they have missed because of THE SCHEDULE. And, when it comes right down to it, inflexibility is an amazingly arrogant exhibition. Why is their way the only way?
Have you ever heard a new father say, "I don't change diapers." I often wonder if that was his decision from the get-go, or did he get so many instructions from his wife or his mother or his mother-in-law about how to do it the right way, that he just gave up. Proclamation: If the diaper is in the general vicinity of the baby's rump, then all is well.
Many of us know wives who complain that their husbands don't do anything around the house. I'm sure there are some primitive thinking men around who think that it is "women's work," but I suspect part of it is a result of never having done anything around the house satisfactorily. Have you ever observed an adult instructing another adult on how to fold towels? Seriously? Proclamation: There are as many ways to fold a towel as there are people.
School is very important. I realize that. I do. But, there are moments when it does not have to be the most important thing in a child's life. Years ago, my children were in middle school and a steam locomotive was in the gulch. It was to get up a head of steam and depart around 8:30 am. My children had never seen a steam locomotive running. It was cold and pouring rain and we learned of the train's departure as I was driving them to school. We drove past school, went to the gulch, and watched the steam locomotive pull out of the station. We came home, they took hot baths, redressed, and went to school. The excuse note for their tardiness said that we were at the gulch watching the steam locomotive. Note accepted. Proclamation: Children often will remember those unexpected moments much longer than what is taught in the classroom.
Two friends and I love to travel together. A few years ago, one of them and I had to drive to the airport in Pensacola to pick up the other one. On our way back to Perdido Key, we took a wrong turn. We meandered through a somewhat seedy-looking neighborhood when we saw a building that we thought was a restaurant. We were hungry, we like local spots, so we stopped. It was a fish market. The boats had just come in. Living inland, I had never seen fish being delivered right off the boat. There was a wonderful market with fresh vegetables, fruits and herbs. It was one of the highlights of the trip. Proclamation: Embrace the wrong turns in life. You may see and learn something excellent that you would otherwise have missed.
Yesterday, I was at the market. An elderly man (probably my age...only kidding, but close) was checking out the peaches. His wife, across the market, in a rather loud voice, said, "Charles, put those down!" He asked her why (no, he did not seem to be in the throes of dementia - but, even so), and she just sort of glared at him. I fear that if I had spoken to he who wishes to remain unnamed on FB in such a way that I would have been wearing that peach somewhere around my head. I know if he had spoken to me that way he would have been. He found himself a few years back wearing a vest of whipping cream as a result of his micro-managing my preparation of strawberry shortcake. It was a funny (if somewhat dumbfounding to the children) event in our house. Charles yesterday was not amused, but seem very chagrined by his wife's arrogance in thinking only she could choose the proper peach. Proclamation: The ripeness of a peach does not trump the dignity of a person.
The foolish ones of us in the "what now" age think we have lived long enough to have the answers. The wise ones of us realize how few answers we really have. Proclamation: Embracing the unexpected enriches lives.
Oops, now who is the arrogant foolish one making all these proclamations? I'll have to work on that.
blessings,
Have you ever heard a new father say, "I don't change diapers." I often wonder if that was his decision from the get-go, or did he get so many instructions from his wife or his mother or his mother-in-law about how to do it the right way, that he just gave up. Proclamation: If the diaper is in the general vicinity of the baby's rump, then all is well.
Many of us know wives who complain that their husbands don't do anything around the house. I'm sure there are some primitive thinking men around who think that it is "women's work," but I suspect part of it is a result of never having done anything around the house satisfactorily. Have you ever observed an adult instructing another adult on how to fold towels? Seriously? Proclamation: There are as many ways to fold a towel as there are people.
School is very important. I realize that. I do. But, there are moments when it does not have to be the most important thing in a child's life. Years ago, my children were in middle school and a steam locomotive was in the gulch. It was to get up a head of steam and depart around 8:30 am. My children had never seen a steam locomotive running. It was cold and pouring rain and we learned of the train's departure as I was driving them to school. We drove past school, went to the gulch, and watched the steam locomotive pull out of the station. We came home, they took hot baths, redressed, and went to school. The excuse note for their tardiness said that we were at the gulch watching the steam locomotive. Note accepted. Proclamation: Children often will remember those unexpected moments much longer than what is taught in the classroom.
Two friends and I love to travel together. A few years ago, one of them and I had to drive to the airport in Pensacola to pick up the other one. On our way back to Perdido Key, we took a wrong turn. We meandered through a somewhat seedy-looking neighborhood when we saw a building that we thought was a restaurant. We were hungry, we like local spots, so we stopped. It was a fish market. The boats had just come in. Living inland, I had never seen fish being delivered right off the boat. There was a wonderful market with fresh vegetables, fruits and herbs. It was one of the highlights of the trip. Proclamation: Embrace the wrong turns in life. You may see and learn something excellent that you would otherwise have missed.
Yesterday, I was at the market. An elderly man (probably my age...only kidding, but close) was checking out the peaches. His wife, across the market, in a rather loud voice, said, "Charles, put those down!" He asked her why (no, he did not seem to be in the throes of dementia - but, even so), and she just sort of glared at him. I fear that if I had spoken to he who wishes to remain unnamed on FB in such a way that I would have been wearing that peach somewhere around my head. I know if he had spoken to me that way he would have been. He found himself a few years back wearing a vest of whipping cream as a result of his micro-managing my preparation of strawberry shortcake. It was a funny (if somewhat dumbfounding to the children) event in our house. Charles yesterday was not amused, but seem very chagrined by his wife's arrogance in thinking only she could choose the proper peach. Proclamation: The ripeness of a peach does not trump the dignity of a person.
The foolish ones of us in the "what now" age think we have lived long enough to have the answers. The wise ones of us realize how few answers we really have. Proclamation: Embracing the unexpected enriches lives.
Oops, now who is the arrogant foolish one making all these proclamations? I'll have to work on that.
blessings,
Monday, August 8, 2011
Firsts
August!! August is the month for firsts. For those who have children and those who teach children and those who are in the "what now" stage and just love children, August is more a fresh start than January 1 will ever be. Yesterday, I spoke with three different people who are watching firsts heading their way like a runaway train.
Several precious babies in my church community are headed off to Snoopy Days and pre-school. It creates a strange mixture of dread and excitement. This picture was taken 31 years ago. Immediately after the picture was taken he fell down our front steps. How one fall could cause a scrape, a gouge, and a cut is mysterious, but he managed it. I remember this day as if it were yesterday. Where have those years gone?
Several precious babies in my church community are headed off to Snoopy Days and pre-school. It creates a strange mixture of dread and excitement. This picture was taken 31 years ago. Immediately after the picture was taken he fell down our front steps. How one fall could cause a scrape, a gouge, and a cut is mysterious, but he managed it. I remember this day as if it were yesterday. Where have those years gone?
One of the people I spoke with yesterday is an adorable, intelligent, spunky young girl who is heading off to middle school this week. She expressed a bit of anxiety over the change. I experienced a stress in the pit of my stomach as I talked to her remembering my first day in junior high. I wore a plaid skirt and olive green blouse that I had made over the summer while taking sewing lessons from a friend's mother. I had on bobby socks. My mother did not allow me to wear hose because, "nice girls don't wear hose to school." Really? That was 47 years ago and I still remember those socks.
Another friend with whom I spoke yesterday has twins headed to two different colleges for the first time this month. I can recreate the emotions she is feeling. When we left our daughter at the University of Georgia as a freshman it was excrutiating. We struggled to find just one more thing that needed to be done so we would not have to leave her. Finally, we had to go. We had to leave her. We had to say good-bye. He who wishes to remain unnamed on FB and I pretty much cried the entire drive back from Athens. I have a notebook of the emails she sent her first semester. The whole first series of e-mails were entitled "one is the loneliest number." That pretty much sums up how tough her first semester was. One excerpt from a very long email dated August 26. ...."I know this email has been eternally long, but I had a lot to say after three days of no email. I hope you are doing okay. I am going to call tonight around 6:30 or so your time. Don't worry, I won't interrupt Jeopardy. I love you and miss you lots....ps I don't want to mark days off on a claendar because that will just make it last longer not less time. love you."
August, a month of firsts for many people. Firsts are good. Firsts are tough. Firsts bring us growth and character. Firsts are an effective way to learn that "we can do it." The "what now" age is a great time for firsts as well. So, for whatever your first is this August,
blessings
Sunday, August 7, 2011
Community
I was made for community. I think we all were. Last week I took a test on FB to see if I am an introvert or an extrovert. I knew the answer before I took the test. My answers confirmed that I am very much an introvert. No surprise there. But, still I was made for community.
Most of us who have reached the "what now" age are now or have been part of many communities. Some large, some small. I spent the weekend in community with my daughter-in-law at The World's Longest Yard Sale. We laughed a lot. We took pictures of ugly things. She took pictures of some 8th-grade-boy-humor signs. She can share those with her e-community herself. I could have gone by myself. I would have seen the same things, made the same stops, eaten the same food while picnicking in the car, bought the same things, and spoken in passing to the same people from stop to stop. But, for me the enjoyment would have been greatly diminished. Being in community with her is what created the fun.
I would not have survived as successfully the challenges of being a new mother without community. We called ourselves the Tuna Sandwich Gang. Pretty much, we were all in the same boat. Not much money, little kids, no jobs, and seemingly unending time on our hands. It was great........because of community. Weekly, we gathered ourselves, our children, and whatever we had to offer for lunch. Half a bag of chips, a partial loaf of bread, 1/3 bottle of Coke, or a can of tuna ~ it didn't matter, we shared it. One member of our group could make a can of tuna stretch like the loaves and fishes. It was amazing. The tuna fed us, but the community sustained us. We do not see each other as regularly now as we did then, but the love and the gratitude for that community will never fade.
Facebook is a community of sorts. I have connected with many people through FB. I regularly communicate with people on FB who live far from me. I have a few FB friends whom I have no idea how I know them, but because we have mutual friends, and they asked to be friends on FB, and my mama taught me never ever to be exculsive I said okay and now we're FB friends. Most of my FB friends were face-to-face friends long before FB was ever heard of. Many of them I know from high school. Some are from the old neighborhood, some from the church where I grew up, some are my former students, some are new friends that I see often. Some of my FB friends are teachers with whom I work now. I love my FB community, but it alone could not satisfy my need for community.
Second only to my family, my church family is the most important community in my life. They are who I most want to run to when life gets really tough. That community consists of myriad people of all ages, ideas, backgrounds, theologies, and viewpoints. I love them. They are who I call when I need help like the nasty job of picking up our several-hours-dead dog and putting him in the back of the car when my son was not available. They are who I call when I have joyful news to share. They are who I called when my daddy was dying. They who I called when suicide touched our family. They are who I call when addictions and depression overwhelm those I love. They are who I called when job loss made finances extremely difficult. They are who bought us food and a Christmas tree and paid our mortgage for 6 months and prayed and still do pray on their faces at the Father's feet on my children's behalf. They are who I trust. They are who reflect Jesus, and they are who help me see Jesus in the faces of those in the margins. They are who challenge me to live better and love more and be more honest with myself and with them.
I am an introvert. I need community.
blessings
Most of us who have reached the "what now" age are now or have been part of many communities. Some large, some small. I spent the weekend in community with my daughter-in-law at The World's Longest Yard Sale. We laughed a lot. We took pictures of ugly things. She took pictures of some 8th-grade-boy-humor signs. She can share those with her e-community herself. I could have gone by myself. I would have seen the same things, made the same stops, eaten the same food while picnicking in the car, bought the same things, and spoken in passing to the same people from stop to stop. But, for me the enjoyment would have been greatly diminished. Being in community with her is what created the fun.
I would not have survived as successfully the challenges of being a new mother without community. We called ourselves the Tuna Sandwich Gang. Pretty much, we were all in the same boat. Not much money, little kids, no jobs, and seemingly unending time on our hands. It was great........because of community. Weekly, we gathered ourselves, our children, and whatever we had to offer for lunch. Half a bag of chips, a partial loaf of bread, 1/3 bottle of Coke, or a can of tuna ~ it didn't matter, we shared it. One member of our group could make a can of tuna stretch like the loaves and fishes. It was amazing. The tuna fed us, but the community sustained us. We do not see each other as regularly now as we did then, but the love and the gratitude for that community will never fade.
Facebook is a community of sorts. I have connected with many people through FB. I regularly communicate with people on FB who live far from me. I have a few FB friends whom I have no idea how I know them, but because we have mutual friends, and they asked to be friends on FB, and my mama taught me never ever to be exculsive I said okay and now we're FB friends. Most of my FB friends were face-to-face friends long before FB was ever heard of. Many of them I know from high school. Some are from the old neighborhood, some from the church where I grew up, some are my former students, some are new friends that I see often. Some of my FB friends are teachers with whom I work now. I love my FB community, but it alone could not satisfy my need for community.
Second only to my family, my church family is the most important community in my life. They are who I most want to run to when life gets really tough. That community consists of myriad people of all ages, ideas, backgrounds, theologies, and viewpoints. I love them. They are who I call when I need help like the nasty job of picking up our several-hours-dead dog and putting him in the back of the car when my son was not available. They are who I call when I have joyful news to share. They are who I called when my daddy was dying. They who I called when suicide touched our family. They are who I call when addictions and depression overwhelm those I love. They are who I called when job loss made finances extremely difficult. They are who bought us food and a Christmas tree and paid our mortgage for 6 months and prayed and still do pray on their faces at the Father's feet on my children's behalf. They are who I trust. They are who reflect Jesus, and they are who help me see Jesus in the faces of those in the margins. They are who challenge me to live better and love more and be more honest with myself and with them.
I am an introvert. I need community.
blessings
Thursday, August 4, 2011
Schedules
This blog is not turning out quite like I intended. I thought I would write every other week or so, something pithy and humorous to cheer my day, as I figured I would be the only one reading it. Life had another plan I guess. Perhaps, I don't have as much to say as I think, but I am going to say it anyway. :-)
I spent some time last night with a friend who in November developed pneumonia. Prior to that time, he and his wife were living a full and active life. Since November 20, the parameters of their life together have shrunk to the walls of their lovely, but isolated home, and the length of the tube connected to his oxygen tank. He has a genetic disease that cannot be cured. He mentioned last night that when he found out he felt like he was at the train station waiting for a train but there is no schedule. He gave assurances that he is quite content with the situation. That got me to thinking.
Schedules have never been something I have embraced in life. I like the spontaneity of hanging by the seat of my pants. Being in the "what now" stage of life makes it somewhat easier to avoid schedules. Not long ago, I was planning a tour for a group and the organizer often emailed me with questions as to who, where, and when. Finally, I emailed back and said, "I don't know exactly. I'll just follow where the Spirit leads me." It turned out to be a great day.
I know people who cannot live without their lists and schedules. It makes them nervous to not know what is coming up next. That works for them. Perhaps, they will find waiting for the train with no schedule very disconcerting.
We are all headed for the train station. Some of us are traveling quickly and directly there. Some of us are meandering and taking detours along the way. Some of us really want to know when the train will arrive. I just want to enjoy every blessing encountered on the journey. I want to ancitipate the train's arrival with joy. Like my freind, I want to be content with the situation.
blessings
I spent some time last night with a friend who in November developed pneumonia. Prior to that time, he and his wife were living a full and active life. Since November 20, the parameters of their life together have shrunk to the walls of their lovely, but isolated home, and the length of the tube connected to his oxygen tank. He has a genetic disease that cannot be cured. He mentioned last night that when he found out he felt like he was at the train station waiting for a train but there is no schedule. He gave assurances that he is quite content with the situation. That got me to thinking.
Schedules have never been something I have embraced in life. I like the spontaneity of hanging by the seat of my pants. Being in the "what now" stage of life makes it somewhat easier to avoid schedules. Not long ago, I was planning a tour for a group and the organizer often emailed me with questions as to who, where, and when. Finally, I emailed back and said, "I don't know exactly. I'll just follow where the Spirit leads me." It turned out to be a great day.
I know people who cannot live without their lists and schedules. It makes them nervous to not know what is coming up next. That works for them. Perhaps, they will find waiting for the train with no schedule very disconcerting.
We are all headed for the train station. Some of us are traveling quickly and directly there. Some of us are meandering and taking detours along the way. Some of us really want to know when the train will arrive. I just want to enjoy every blessing encountered on the journey. I want to ancitipate the train's arrival with joy. Like my freind, I want to be content with the situation.
blessings
Wednesday, August 3, 2011
Mottos
"He has showed you, O man, what is good. And what does the Lord require of you? To act justly and to love mercy and to walk humbly with your God." Micah 6:8
I like to proclaim Micah 6:8 as my life's motto. If I were a company, I would be reported to the Better Business Bureau for false advertising.
Sometimes I am amazed and broken hearted by my ability to pass right by someone in need. The fact that it is hot, and I am tired, and I am in a hurry do not seem adequate reasons for failing to act justly and show mercy. Not too many days ago, I used those very excuses for my failure to respond. I didn't sleep all night. I was haunted by the need of the person I passed. It still brings tears to my eyes to remember. Oh, I tried to make up for it by passing out water and granola bars and buying 6 Contributors in 30 minutes from 6 different vendors, but I remain aware of the ease with which I passed that lonely, stranded vet. Maybe he was not even who his sign proclaimed. That does not matter. I failed to live my motto.
Do I "walk humbly with my God?" One of my greatest failings as a "believer" is thinking that God and I have the same mind. Certainly, he must dislike the same people I dislike. How can he not grow impatient with the elderly lady who waits until all her groceries are bagged to pull out her checkbook? Who wouldn't figure that those celebrities or young people, or addicts get exactly what they deserve when their lives fall apart? They made their choices. When I am being my most honest, I know that God does not dislike the people I dislike...He dislikes my disliking. He is more concerned with my impatience than with the lack of urgency of the lady at the store. I think He is more dismayed with my arrogant lack of realization that I do not want what I deserve, than the results of other's choices. They are broken ~ He can help them. My spiritual haughtiness hinders me greatly. I have failed again in living my motto.
Have mercy on me O God...according to your great compassion.
blessings
I like to proclaim Micah 6:8 as my life's motto. If I were a company, I would be reported to the Better Business Bureau for false advertising.
Sometimes I am amazed and broken hearted by my ability to pass right by someone in need. The fact that it is hot, and I am tired, and I am in a hurry do not seem adequate reasons for failing to act justly and show mercy. Not too many days ago, I used those very excuses for my failure to respond. I didn't sleep all night. I was haunted by the need of the person I passed. It still brings tears to my eyes to remember. Oh, I tried to make up for it by passing out water and granola bars and buying 6 Contributors in 30 minutes from 6 different vendors, but I remain aware of the ease with which I passed that lonely, stranded vet. Maybe he was not even who his sign proclaimed. That does not matter. I failed to live my motto.
Do I "walk humbly with my God?" One of my greatest failings as a "believer" is thinking that God and I have the same mind. Certainly, he must dislike the same people I dislike. How can he not grow impatient with the elderly lady who waits until all her groceries are bagged to pull out her checkbook? Who wouldn't figure that those celebrities or young people, or addicts get exactly what they deserve when their lives fall apart? They made their choices. When I am being my most honest, I know that God does not dislike the people I dislike...He dislikes my disliking. He is more concerned with my impatience than with the lack of urgency of the lady at the store. I think He is more dismayed with my arrogant lack of realization that I do not want what I deserve, than the results of other's choices. They are broken ~ He can help them. My spiritual haughtiness hinders me greatly. I have failed again in living my motto.
Have mercy on me O God...according to your great compassion.
blessings
Tuesday, August 2, 2011
Friendship
"...he who refreshes others will himself be refreshed." Proverbs 11:25
One of the advantages of the "what now" age is the wealth of friends that have been gathered over the years. I have been refreshed this morning, walking and having breakfast with two of my most treasured blessings. We burned a few calories, ate a few more than we burned, and shared our hopes and concerns for those we love the most in this world. I am truly refreshed.
"A friend loves at all times..." Proverbs 17:17
Saturday, I had breakfast with my best friend. We have known each other since she was five and I was six. That has been more than a few years. On the morning that my daddy died 13 years ago (can that be?) I told my husband that there was no longer anyone living on earth who thought I was perfect. Although she knows better, my best friend treats me as though she thinks I am perfect. Everybody deserves a daddy like that. Everybody needs a friend like that. I always feel truly loved when I spend time with her.
"A cheerful heart is good medicine..." Proverbs 17:22
Last Thursday night, "he who wishes to remain unnamed on FB" and I had dinner with friends that we had not seen in quite some time. I have been experiencing a string of blue days. I do not know why. I do not enjoy the blueness. But, Thursday night I got caught up with my most joyful friends. We laughed and joked and enjoyed a delicious meal together. It was excellent medicine, and my heart was made more cheerful.
"...do not forsake your friend...." Proverbs 27:10
And so, as I ponder having arrived at this "what now" age, I have great appreciation for the many friendships I have garnered on the journey. From my 80 something let's-get-a-tatto buddy (a story for another day) who once said she would come to my house anything time I asked, even if I was serving "cow patties," to my much younger and wise friend who, when I became angry on his behalf after someone had anonymously and visciously attacked him replied, "I can't let someone else's anger cause me to feel badly." I pray that I am a friend worth having.
Thank you, Lord, for the blessing of my friends.
blessings,
One of the advantages of the "what now" age is the wealth of friends that have been gathered over the years. I have been refreshed this morning, walking and having breakfast with two of my most treasured blessings. We burned a few calories, ate a few more than we burned, and shared our hopes and concerns for those we love the most in this world. I am truly refreshed.
"A friend loves at all times..." Proverbs 17:17
Saturday, I had breakfast with my best friend. We have known each other since she was five and I was six. That has been more than a few years. On the morning that my daddy died 13 years ago (can that be?) I told my husband that there was no longer anyone living on earth who thought I was perfect. Although she knows better, my best friend treats me as though she thinks I am perfect. Everybody deserves a daddy like that. Everybody needs a friend like that. I always feel truly loved when I spend time with her.
"A cheerful heart is good medicine..." Proverbs 17:22
Last Thursday night, "he who wishes to remain unnamed on FB" and I had dinner with friends that we had not seen in quite some time. I have been experiencing a string of blue days. I do not know why. I do not enjoy the blueness. But, Thursday night I got caught up with my most joyful friends. We laughed and joked and enjoyed a delicious meal together. It was excellent medicine, and my heart was made more cheerful.
"...do not forsake your friend...." Proverbs 27:10
And so, as I ponder having arrived at this "what now" age, I have great appreciation for the many friendships I have garnered on the journey. From my 80 something let's-get-a-tatto buddy (a story for another day) who once said she would come to my house anything time I asked, even if I was serving "cow patties," to my much younger and wise friend who, when I became angry on his behalf after someone had anonymously and visciously attacked him replied, "I can't let someone else's anger cause me to feel badly." I pray that I am a friend worth having.
Thank you, Lord, for the blessing of my friends.
blessings,
Monday, August 1, 2011
Going to try blogging...for a while
A few weeks ago, I was having lunch with a friend who said a class should be taught for people our age called "What Now?" We're not young any more, but, we're really not old yet either. I thought it might be a good name for a blog.
Thinking about my closest friends who are also of a "certain" age I realize there is a lot to do in the "what now" time. Most of us are still working...teaching school, executive assisting, office managing, and, in my case still conducting walking tours. But, that's just work, even if we do love it.
Many of my friends are grandparenting. I have been enjoying that with surrogate granddaughters for the past 6 years or so and it is super fun.
Times have changed. The "what now" years are quite different for us than for our grandparents. My husband rode his bike 1080 miles (no, it's not a typo, and no, I'm not a cougar ~ he's 6 months older than I am) in the 3 weeks of the Tour de France ~ half as far as those professional bikers.....for twice the amount of time. He is referred to as "he who wishes to reamain unnamed on FB" because I've been known to over share at times. So, while he is the biggest part of my life, he probably won't be the biggest part of my blog.
So, "what now?" I don't know. I'll just watch and see.
blessings
Thinking about my closest friends who are also of a "certain" age I realize there is a lot to do in the "what now" time. Most of us are still working...teaching school, executive assisting, office managing, and, in my case still conducting walking tours. But, that's just work, even if we do love it.
Many of my friends are grandparenting. I have been enjoying that with surrogate granddaughters for the past 6 years or so and it is super fun.
Times have changed. The "what now" years are quite different for us than for our grandparents. My husband rode his bike 1080 miles (no, it's not a typo, and no, I'm not a cougar ~ he's 6 months older than I am) in the 3 weeks of the Tour de France ~ half as far as those professional bikers.....for twice the amount of time. He is referred to as "he who wishes to reamain unnamed on FB" because I've been known to over share at times. So, while he is the biggest part of my life, he probably won't be the biggest part of my blog.
So, "what now?" I don't know. I'll just watch and see.
blessings
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