It has been re-brought to my attention in the past few days, that in life often a second glance is needed.
A few days ago, a friend, really an acquaintance whom I admire because I know the company she keeps and "her children arise and call her blessed; her husband also...," shared a post on FB. It was a picture of a man holding a sign that said "if I get a million likes, my son will go to church." On first glance I thought, "I like church. This is probably some friendly bet the dad and son have where the son said 'yeah, I'll go to church if you can get a million likes on FB,' sort of in the vein of 'I'll go to church when pigs fly.'" So I hit the "like" button?
Then, I read some of the comments following the post. I was struck all over again (I can be a really slow learner) how hurtful church has been for some. While many of the comments were accompanied by the "f" word multiple times and, what seemed to me, extreme vitriolic statements, I have to know that those feelings were born of some form of abuse and/or perversion by people connected to church. Rarely, if ever, does a person feel that strongly about something without reason. So, upon second glance, I hit "unlike."
I get that father's desire for his son to go to church. For me, it is a community of people with similar beliefs who help me grow in my theology, who set wonderful examples of service, who encourage me in my efforts to follow a Christ-like path, who are flawed and annoying and stubborn and imperfect (wait...an apt description of myself) and redeemed. So, I get that dad. Upon second glance, I am learning to understand a bit better those who are offended by that post.
Recently, a young woman shared her story with a group. On one level, it is a story hard to hear. It is a story of severe family dysfunction followed by a series of self-destructive choices. She is completely transparent concerning her life then and her life now. Her story was told most eloquently, woven with threads of humility and gratitude. She blames no one. She is an amazing woman. In her talk, she did not share her accomplishments brought about by hard work and determination. I happen to learn of those through others who know and love her. I was moved to tears as she shared her story. I heard a wise man say afterwards that we can read all the philosophers and theologians we want, no one can tell the story like this young woman.
Later, someone came to her and told her that she had done a nice job (huge understatement), but that her dress was too short (not in my opinion). What? Oh, my goodness I was furious when I heard this. It seemed such a cruel comment. I cannot judge in what spirit it was delivered. The young woman had bought the dress the day before so that she would be nicely and appropriately dressed. I really wanted to slap someone.
However, upon second glance, I found myself sorrowful for the person who walked away from that time of testimony with "your dress is too short." They completely missed the beauty. Let me say here that I am capable of doing exactly the same thing. I can totally discount great lessons because I do not particularly care for the messenger or I have a headache or countless other reasons. Often, I am able to see how my bias causes me to misjudge. Probably, just as often I do not see. Perhaps, a second glance is always needed.
I hope that upon second glance in this young woman's heart the "your dress is too short" will be drowned out by the comments that praised her honesty, her courage, her tenacity, and her humility. I do not know why it is, but often we humans cling to the negative others toss our way rather than the positive. I guess Julia Roberts was right in "Pretty Woman" when she said "the bad stuff is easier to believe."
I hope that upon second glance the person who made the comment will realize how unkind it was. I hope, upon second glance, they discover the essence of love and joy and gratitude present in that testimony rather than being blinded by a skirt that might have been (it was not) too short.
I hope that upon second glance those who have been wounded by church will see the flaws in the people but not in the plan. Church done well is a wonderful thing. I hope they won't stay away from lack of a second glance.
I hope that those who love church and find it a blessed place of refuge will, upon second glance, be honest about the failures that have caused damage to others.
So for today, I wish you second glances, deeper understanding, and I wish you
blessings
Thursday, July 11, 2013
Monday, June 24, 2013
"Bad Theology"
Every day, I am reminded of my "bad theology." In my own defense, I was raised with bad theology. I trusted the adults in my life to know what they were talking about, and sometimes maybe they did and sometimes maybe they did not. In defense of those who shared it, they were definitely doing what they thought was good and right and best for those they taught. That does not excuse me for getting almost to my 61st birthday without a better realization that some of what I was taught was bad theology. It does not excuse me for my spreading of bad theology.
I was taught, and still know people who believe that it is wrong to read what others say about the Bible. "We are to read it for ourselves and the Holy Spirit will guide us." I believe that, but I have to wonder, if I believe in a transcendent God who is active and alive, why can he not "inspire" people now to a deeper understanding of the meaning of His word? Why can He not use the intelligence and hunger for understanding of someone like N.T. Wright to help me gain a deeper insight? Believing otherwise, seems, if not bad theology, at least a very limited boxed-in theology.
So much of what I was taught was black and white. I am not sure what we did with the scripture about not judging because we certainly had a refined sense of who was in and who was out. Even I figured out at an early age that not only people who attended the church of Christ were going to heaven. I remember in college, sitting in the balcony of Alumni Auditorium at David Lipscomb College before chapel, a good friend from my church informing me that my next-door-neighbor, one of the kindest most spiritual people I ever knew, was going to hell because she attended the Baptist church. Really? Please, God, tell me that nobody is living today who believes that....please. I figure that person has lived enough life at this point to realize, himself, what a ludicrous thought that was.
Absolutely, there was no possibility that Christ's sacrifice on the cross was far-reaching or strong enough to cover people who danced or "mix-bathed" or listened to rock and roll, or had premarital sex or drank or were attracted to the same sex. His sacrifice only covered those of us who said the right things and believed the right things and who occasionally might utter a curse word, or play solitaire with "playing" cards (Old Maid was fine), or overeat, or tell a little "white" lie, or spread a little gossip. We certainly cannot be having guilty people walking around with their struggles thinking God loves them anyway. That might excuse them for their unacceptable behavior. And, we cannot be culpable in their sin by not setting them straight and letting them know what they are doing that is dooming them to eternal hell. Seriously, we might be responsible for their salvation as if God is incapable to handling it. So, we did not mind letting people we barely knew or knew not at all how to straighten out their lives through tracts, "gospel" meetings that were anything but "good news," and door-to-door canvasing.
We have many seeking, thinking, loving, questioning young people in our church family. I love them. I need them. We have a series of classes on movies and how to find God and Christ and the Holy Spirit in those movies. Some of them are rated "R." It is an adult class. Some of them are violent and dark and have "language." Some of my generation take exception to discussing these movies at church. I do not attend the class because it is on Wednesday night, and those who know me know that I keep the boys on Wednesdays, and am usually too tired to stir from the sofa when they go home. My not attending would be enough to convince me that I really need not express any criticism of the class. But, I know the young man who teaches it. I trust him to not present anything salacious. He is much wiser and has a much better sense of what is acceptable in a church setting than that.
Once again, I was just living life, and not concerning myself about what anyone thought about that class. I did chuckle to myself when I saw that one Wednesday night the movie to be discussed was No Country for Old Men, and the next week on the schedule was "An Old-Fashioned Hymn Sing." I love a bit of irony...or is that a paradox - Betsy, Sandy...anyone? As usual, I digress.
Yesterday, as part of communion, another young man who is known to be extremely thoughtful, shared a few words. He started out talking about, of all things, a movie; Man of Steel. As I listened to him, I had an epiphany. Those of my generation who are so opposed to the viewing or discussion of these movies were raised with a pounding in their heads of the importance of remaining unspotted by the world. We often are unable to get past the violence and the language to see the point. We are working so hard to remain unsoiled that we miss the cleansing lesson of redemption and salvation that these young people see. We see sin marring a perfect world (which it is), and they see Kingdom springing up in very unexpected ways in a struggling world. I do not want to excuse sin, my own in particular, but I do want to see Kingdom.
For today I wish you love and joy and
Kingdom life.
blessings,
I was taught, and still know people who believe that it is wrong to read what others say about the Bible. "We are to read it for ourselves and the Holy Spirit will guide us." I believe that, but I have to wonder, if I believe in a transcendent God who is active and alive, why can he not "inspire" people now to a deeper understanding of the meaning of His word? Why can He not use the intelligence and hunger for understanding of someone like N.T. Wright to help me gain a deeper insight? Believing otherwise, seems, if not bad theology, at least a very limited boxed-in theology.
So much of what I was taught was black and white. I am not sure what we did with the scripture about not judging because we certainly had a refined sense of who was in and who was out. Even I figured out at an early age that not only people who attended the church of Christ were going to heaven. I remember in college, sitting in the balcony of Alumni Auditorium at David Lipscomb College before chapel, a good friend from my church informing me that my next-door-neighbor, one of the kindest most spiritual people I ever knew, was going to hell because she attended the Baptist church. Really? Please, God, tell me that nobody is living today who believes that....please. I figure that person has lived enough life at this point to realize, himself, what a ludicrous thought that was.
Absolutely, there was no possibility that Christ's sacrifice on the cross was far-reaching or strong enough to cover people who danced or "mix-bathed" or listened to rock and roll, or had premarital sex or drank or were attracted to the same sex. His sacrifice only covered those of us who said the right things and believed the right things and who occasionally might utter a curse word, or play solitaire with "playing" cards (Old Maid was fine), or overeat, or tell a little "white" lie, or spread a little gossip. We certainly cannot be having guilty people walking around with their struggles thinking God loves them anyway. That might excuse them for their unacceptable behavior. And, we cannot be culpable in their sin by not setting them straight and letting them know what they are doing that is dooming them to eternal hell. Seriously, we might be responsible for their salvation as if God is incapable to handling it. So, we did not mind letting people we barely knew or knew not at all how to straighten out their lives through tracts, "gospel" meetings that were anything but "good news," and door-to-door canvasing.
We have many seeking, thinking, loving, questioning young people in our church family. I love them. I need them. We have a series of classes on movies and how to find God and Christ and the Holy Spirit in those movies. Some of them are rated "R." It is an adult class. Some of them are violent and dark and have "language." Some of my generation take exception to discussing these movies at church. I do not attend the class because it is on Wednesday night, and those who know me know that I keep the boys on Wednesdays, and am usually too tired to stir from the sofa when they go home. My not attending would be enough to convince me that I really need not express any criticism of the class. But, I know the young man who teaches it. I trust him to not present anything salacious. He is much wiser and has a much better sense of what is acceptable in a church setting than that.
Once again, I was just living life, and not concerning myself about what anyone thought about that class. I did chuckle to myself when I saw that one Wednesday night the movie to be discussed was No Country for Old Men, and the next week on the schedule was "An Old-Fashioned Hymn Sing." I love a bit of irony...or is that a paradox - Betsy, Sandy...anyone? As usual, I digress.
Yesterday, as part of communion, another young man who is known to be extremely thoughtful, shared a few words. He started out talking about, of all things, a movie; Man of Steel. As I listened to him, I had an epiphany. Those of my generation who are so opposed to the viewing or discussion of these movies were raised with a pounding in their heads of the importance of remaining unspotted by the world. We often are unable to get past the violence and the language to see the point. We are working so hard to remain unsoiled that we miss the cleansing lesson of redemption and salvation that these young people see. We see sin marring a perfect world (which it is), and they see Kingdom springing up in very unexpected ways in a struggling world. I do not want to excuse sin, my own in particular, but I do want to see Kingdom.
For today I wish you love and joy and
Kingdom life.
blessings,
Saturday, June 15, 2013
Could It Be?
WARNING: Gross picture below!
It all started last Friday. Sometime in the night, my son got up, slipped on a pillow on the floor, fell backwards and landed on his child's toy. He said to himself, "wow, that is going to leave a bruise" (paraphrased). When he woke up, there was blood all over his sheets, and while trying to figure out the cause, he discovered a cut in his back approximately two inches long and an inch deep. His wife felt that he needed stitches, and asked if I could take him as she needed to get to work. My son, of course, felt it was a lot of hoopla for nothing. Nurse Henderson was here (I know she gets so sick of us asking her all our medical questions....just like Mr. Lincoln gets asked legal questions all the time...funny, no one ever seems to need my Tennessee history advice), so it was suggested that he send a picture of the cut, so that Nurse H. and I could offer our expert and non-expert opinions concerning the need for stitches. Below is the picture he sent:
It all started last Friday. Sometime in the night, my son got up, slipped on a pillow on the floor, fell backwards and landed on his child's toy. He said to himself, "wow, that is going to leave a bruise" (paraphrased). When he woke up, there was blood all over his sheets, and while trying to figure out the cause, he discovered a cut in his back approximately two inches long and an inch deep. His wife felt that he needed stitches, and asked if I could take him as she needed to get to work. My son, of course, felt it was a lot of hoopla for nothing. Nurse Henderson was here (I know she gets so sick of us asking her all our medical questions....just like Mr. Lincoln gets asked legal questions all the time...funny, no one ever seems to need my Tennessee history advice), so it was suggested that he send a picture of the cut, so that Nurse H. and I could offer our expert and non-expert opinions concerning the need for stitches. Below is the picture he sent:
Uh, yeah, I think you need stitches. I got the baby, my son called his doctor, who in about 2 seconds of seeing the cut said, "wow, you need stitches!" So after a couple layers of stitches, and a prescription for antibiotics, he went home. Except for soreness in his back, the weekend seemed to go fairly well for my son and family.
Fast forward....Monday morning. Complaints of a raging headache and a general feeling of unwellness began. I offered to let the baby play, nap and lunch at my house so my son could rest. He rested and seemed to be much better. Seems all is well, or at least on the road to well.
Tuesday morning....My daughter-in-law calls. Her hubby, my son, has a fever of 102, she has to get to work, he needs to stay away from the baby. I inquired as to whether they had checked for infection in the cut on his back. She thought it looked okay, but with such a deep wound we figured an infection could be there and not noticeable on the surface. When I picked up the baby, I asked him to please go to the doctor and have his back checked. He was so miserable that he just felt like he could not get out of bed, but conceded that if someone would work it out, he would go. Mr. Lincoln to the rescue!! He called the doctor who said to take our son to the emergency room immediately. Mr. Lincoln did. Yay!! No infection in wound, but there was definitely something going on. Tests were run.
Wednesday....Tests are back. Apparently hepatitis caused by either mono or medicine is what is causing all this misery. Temperature is still 102. He is miserable. Further testing to be done.
Thursday...It is not mono. By process of elimination, the doctor has concluded that he has Rocky Mountain Spotted Fever, caused by the bite of an infected tick. What? DO NOT GOOGLE such things. Oh, my word! There is one antibiotic designed specifically for RMSF, and it is prescribed.
Friday...Our son is feeling better this morning, and much better by this evening. Improving from the antibiotic seems to confirm the diagnosis. Mr. Lincoln informed me he read that only about 800 cases of RMSF are reported each year in the U.S. Wow, I bet he is feeling really special.
Saturday morning...I have not heard anything this morning, so I am assuming the improvement continues.
The real danger of Rocky Mountain Spotted Fever is a late diagnosis. The sooner it is caught, the better chance of treating it. My son is like a lot of men; he does not go to the doctor often. People, die of RMSF because doctors do not recognize it, patients do not remember being bitten by a tick, symptoms are compatible with many other things.
So I ask: could it be that our son's fall in the wee hours last Friday was the beginning of events that would literally save his life? (I know and love a few people who at this point are thinking, "I love her, but she's an idiot. She cannot really believe this stuff!) I cannot help but think that if he had not fallen, when he woke up with a fever of 102 degrees 4 days later he would not have gone to the doctor in fear that his wound was infected, tests would not have been run, and while an eventual diagnosis may have been made as symptoms increased, perhaps it would have been too late.
I am not saying this is how it is, I am asking, "could it be?" I believe it could.
So for today, I wish you belief in possibilities, good health, and I wish you
blessings
Saturday, June 1, 2013
Day three...and home
This morning I bid a fond farewell to the Country Inn and Suites and headed up Lookout Mountain to Rock City. Barns with "See Rock City" dot the countryside, and I have seen them all my life, but I have never been there. It was lovely...a little hokey and commercial, but the rock formations and the flowers were incredible. I will admit that I sort of attached myself to a couple (they didn't know, but I kept them in view) as we went through the caverns. There were a lot of creepy Mother Goose characters lit with black lights in the caverns and it felt scary and I felt a bit claustrophobic. I went through Fat Man's Squeeze, and seriously, a fat man could not have made it through. I saw 7 states from Lover's Leap Lookout, but I saw them away from the edge. I was transported to the waterfall with Daniel Day Lewis in Last of the Mohicans.
After my walk through the gardens and rocks, I had two white chocolate covered graham crackers to keep my strength up as I contemplated driving back down the mountain. I seriously thought about getting a room at The Chanticleer which is a fabulous B&B across the street from Rock City, but I decided that I wanted to come home instead. 41A was to be the route I followed, except for the brief stretch at Nickajack where the bridge is closed. I saw lots of men fishing there.
I was really surprised at how desolate the area was, especially, along the Tennessee River. I expected to see more vacation homes and resorts. Lunch was at the Dutchmaid Bakery in Tracy City. After lunch, I went to Sewanee and the University of the South. In our next life, Mr. Lincoln and I are going to be history professors at Sewanee and live in a yellow clapboard house with a big front porch on University Avenue. We will walk around town after dinner each night, then sit on the porch. Our students will walk by and stop and chat and then wander off thinking how eccentric, and tough, and fair we are as professors. Sounds lovely to me.
A lot of driving through some torrential rain, then sun, then rain led me to Nolensville where I did a little window shopping, bought some Martin's barbeque, and came home. It was a nice weekend. Maybe I could have stayed longer, but the pull home was greater than the need to be away. Simeon dropped by to see us for a few minutes, and the phone has rung several times since my return. I am sure I will sleep well, in my own bed tonight. I need to thank Zoe, for their "Faithful" CD was a dear companion on my drive.
I do not know if my head is straightened out or not, but I did enjoy my bit of solitude. I am also very glad to be home.
So for today, I wish you a pull to home when you are away, safe travels, and
blessings
After my walk through the gardens and rocks, I had two white chocolate covered graham crackers to keep my strength up as I contemplated driving back down the mountain. I seriously thought about getting a room at The Chanticleer which is a fabulous B&B across the street from Rock City, but I decided that I wanted to come home instead. 41A was to be the route I followed, except for the brief stretch at Nickajack where the bridge is closed. I saw lots of men fishing there.
I was really surprised at how desolate the area was, especially, along the Tennessee River. I expected to see more vacation homes and resorts. Lunch was at the Dutchmaid Bakery in Tracy City. After lunch, I went to Sewanee and the University of the South. In our next life, Mr. Lincoln and I are going to be history professors at Sewanee and live in a yellow clapboard house with a big front porch on University Avenue. We will walk around town after dinner each night, then sit on the porch. Our students will walk by and stop and chat and then wander off thinking how eccentric, and tough, and fair we are as professors. Sounds lovely to me.
A lot of driving through some torrential rain, then sun, then rain led me to Nolensville where I did a little window shopping, bought some Martin's barbeque, and came home. It was a nice weekend. Maybe I could have stayed longer, but the pull home was greater than the need to be away. Simeon dropped by to see us for a few minutes, and the phone has rung several times since my return. I am sure I will sleep well, in my own bed tonight. I need to thank Zoe, for their "Faithful" CD was a dear companion on my drive.
I do not know if my head is straightened out or not, but I did enjoy my bit of solitude. I am also very glad to be home.
So for today, I wish you a pull to home when you are away, safe travels, and
blessings
Friday, May 31, 2013
Day two
This morning dawned full of promise for a great day. The plan was to go to Chickamauga Battlefield, take lots of pictures, go to the town, have lunch at a quaint spot, do a little antiquing and end the afternoon with a train ride. Perfection!
I have driven to Chickamauga before. In fact, I have driven there from the very spot from which I departed this morning. There were a few steps I must have forgotten along the way, like BOTH right lanes at exit 178 dump one off the interstate. Not to worry, there must be another on ramp close by. Not really. Finally, after several turns, I am back in business. There is even a sign that says " Chickamauga Battlefield exit 180. No problem...is that 180A or 180B? Well exit 180A is first so that must be it. No, no, it is not. No problem, there must be an on ramp very nearby. No, there is not. Okay, so I have gone East, then North, then West, so South must be the proper direction. Of course it is. I am going to Georgia from Tennessee after all. A few twists and turns, I am back on I24, headed West, take exit 180B and I am cooking!
Everytime I worried that I was lost, I would see a confirmation that I was on the right path to the battlefield. And, sure enough, after about 20 minutes or so I am there. The park rangers were lovely. I watched an excellent film on the battles for Chattanooga. It just reiterated the futility of war...the fighting and killing of people that if known personally would probably be friends. I set out for a marathon picture-taking morning. After about 6 pictures, my camera just cut off, and would not work at all. I knew I had fully charged the battery, but a $1,000 18-month-old camera could not just stop working, could it. Apparently, it can. To say I was not happy is a huge understatement.
Nothing to be done but return to the hotel, try to charge the battery, and see if I can get it working. I'll be dadgum if those 2 right lanes at exit 178 don't dump you off headed West too. I could not get my camera to work, so I called the manufacturer, but they were not willing to overnight me a new one (seriously, I did not ask) so what should I do. I mean I take pictures every day. I love that camera. I understand all its eccentricities. Almost every picture I have taken of Simeon and Max, all approximately 3 million of them, have been taken with that camera. So, I did what any upset person would do. I went to Sonic to contemplate my next move. The decision was made to go to WalMart nearby and buy another camera....a cheaper, but not cheap camera, and to figure out what to do about the other one when I get home.
So, off I go to get my day back on track, just several hours later than planned. Chickamauga is very moving. Dozens of monuments representing thousands of men who served, including a monument to Abraham Lincoln's brother-in-law who was mortally wounded. I got my pictures, even though I do not love this camera, and will have to figure out a way to repair or replace my good one.
The little town of Chickamauga, GA is lovely. I bought 2 vintage/antique/new-but-dirty vases (?) for the grand total of $7.00, passed a shop called "chocolate therapy cafe." Yes, please. I walked all around town, and even though it was warm, there was a lovely breeze. The train come through...the train I hoped to ride today, but, alas, that did not happen. It was a day of ups and downs, of back and forths, but it is a day about which I will not complain.
Favorite signs seen on my travels today: on stone entrance - "welcome to historic Ft. Oglethorpe, established 1949" I must be bordering on 'historic') on the Chickamauga church of Christ - "if little
ears shouldn't hear it, big mouths shouldn't say it!" On the front of a secondhand store - "too good to be threw" seriously. And my favorite of the day...ta da....on the sign at a hair salon - "Gelus Hair Designs, " I promise.
So now after having had my "earlybird special" for the second night in a row at Cracker Barrel with all the other old folk, I am safely ensconced in my 55 degree (how I like it) hotel room thinking about my plans for tomorrow. What adventures await, I wonder.
For today, I wish you minor frustrations, good times, and I wish you
Blessings
I have driven to Chickamauga before. In fact, I have driven there from the very spot from which I departed this morning. There were a few steps I must have forgotten along the way, like BOTH right lanes at exit 178 dump one off the interstate. Not to worry, there must be another on ramp close by. Not really. Finally, after several turns, I am back in business. There is even a sign that says " Chickamauga Battlefield exit 180. No problem...is that 180A or 180B? Well exit 180A is first so that must be it. No, no, it is not. No problem, there must be an on ramp very nearby. No, there is not. Okay, so I have gone East, then North, then West, so South must be the proper direction. Of course it is. I am going to Georgia from Tennessee after all. A few twists and turns, I am back on I24, headed West, take exit 180B and I am cooking!
Everytime I worried that I was lost, I would see a confirmation that I was on the right path to the battlefield. And, sure enough, after about 20 minutes or so I am there. The park rangers were lovely. I watched an excellent film on the battles for Chattanooga. It just reiterated the futility of war...the fighting and killing of people that if known personally would probably be friends. I set out for a marathon picture-taking morning. After about 6 pictures, my camera just cut off, and would not work at all. I knew I had fully charged the battery, but a $1,000 18-month-old camera could not just stop working, could it. Apparently, it can. To say I was not happy is a huge understatement.
Nothing to be done but return to the hotel, try to charge the battery, and see if I can get it working. I'll be dadgum if those 2 right lanes at exit 178 don't dump you off headed West too. I could not get my camera to work, so I called the manufacturer, but they were not willing to overnight me a new one (seriously, I did not ask) so what should I do. I mean I take pictures every day. I love that camera. I understand all its eccentricities. Almost every picture I have taken of Simeon and Max, all approximately 3 million of them, have been taken with that camera. So, I did what any upset person would do. I went to Sonic to contemplate my next move. The decision was made to go to WalMart nearby and buy another camera....a cheaper, but not cheap camera, and to figure out what to do about the other one when I get home.
So, off I go to get my day back on track, just several hours later than planned. Chickamauga is very moving. Dozens of monuments representing thousands of men who served, including a monument to Abraham Lincoln's brother-in-law who was mortally wounded. I got my pictures, even though I do not love this camera, and will have to figure out a way to repair or replace my good one.
The little town of Chickamauga, GA is lovely. I bought 2 vintage/antique/new-but-dirty vases (?) for the grand total of $7.00, passed a shop called "chocolate therapy cafe." Yes, please. I walked all around town, and even though it was warm, there was a lovely breeze. The train come through...the train I hoped to ride today, but, alas, that did not happen. It was a day of ups and downs, of back and forths, but it is a day about which I will not complain.
Favorite signs seen on my travels today: on stone entrance - "welcome to historic Ft. Oglethorpe, established 1949" I must be bordering on 'historic') on the Chickamauga church of Christ - "if little
ears shouldn't hear it, big mouths shouldn't say it!" On the front of a secondhand store - "too good to be threw" seriously. And my favorite of the day...ta da....on the sign at a hair salon - "Gelus Hair Designs, " I promise.
So now after having had my "earlybird special" for the second night in a row at Cracker Barrel with all the other old folk, I am safely ensconced in my 55 degree (how I like it) hotel room thinking about my plans for tomorrow. What adventures await, I wonder.
For today, I wish you minor frustrations, good times, and I wish you
Blessings
Thursday, May 30, 2013
Day one
As I suspected, not a lot of excitement today. I got away from town later than I would have liked, but earlier than I anticipated. Some observations from my day in no particular order.
Going 41A to Monteagle Mountain adds about an hour to the trip. By the time I arrived at Lookout Mountain, in my head I was hearing the "melodious" voice of Jean Eisenhower who had a colorful way of expressing the fact that she had been sitting too long. I was ready to get out of the car.
Tennessee is a beautiful state, and there is a lot of country on the back roads. When driving the less traveled road, one wonders about the cry of overpopulation.
Getting over Monteagle Mountain the back way is much, much curvier than the interstate. Whew, almost enough to make even the driver carsick.
I am glad that I do not live in Rover or Estill Springs, but I can see why people might love their small towns.
Decherd has cheap gas.
Tullahoma has a WalMart with a bathroom that was a glorious sight.
Rose's is not a grocery store with fresh apples. I am not sure what it would be called. Sort of a combination of Aldi's, Big Lots and a Vanity Fair outlet store. Also, Rose's does not have a bathroom.
Lynchburg actually has a sign on the highway that says, "Entering the Metropolis of Lynchburg, TN." Talk about hyperbole!!!!
I saw a truck speeding, and I do mean speeding down I24 (I caved and got on the interstate at Monteagle since I had already been driving 3 hours to get 1 1/2 hours down the road) that had "Even a brick wants to be part of something." I thought that a very fitting metaphor for life. I think we all want to be part of something. Actually, we all are or will be part of something. I guess we need to be wise about what we choose. I assume the driver of the truck was either a maker or layer of bricks.
I really can eat a meal by myself in a restaurant. Perhaps, there were people who noticed me there alone and wondered about my story. They might have been surprised at the wonderful life I have at home. Most likely, no one even took note of my presence.
Some things that are humorous are also quite sad, like the loud middle-aged, overweight, bespectacled, balding man on a date at Cracker Barrel with a beautiful younger woman. It seemed as though he was trying desperately to impress her with his refined gourmand palate that was insulted by the undercooked grits, and his periodic poorly executed Italian accent.
That blogger does not seem to work as I wish on the iPad, so I have no idea how this is going to turn out.
For today, I wish you safe travels wherever you may go, a family who loves you, and I wish you
Blessings
Going 41A to Monteagle Mountain adds about an hour to the trip. By the time I arrived at Lookout Mountain, in my head I was hearing the "melodious" voice of Jean Eisenhower who had a colorful way of expressing the fact that she had been sitting too long. I was ready to get out of the car.
Tennessee is a beautiful state, and there is a lot of country on the back roads. When driving the less traveled road, one wonders about the cry of overpopulation.
Getting over Monteagle Mountain the back way is much, much curvier than the interstate. Whew, almost enough to make even the driver carsick.
I am glad that I do not live in Rover or Estill Springs, but I can see why people might love their small towns.
Decherd has cheap gas.
Tullahoma has a WalMart with a bathroom that was a glorious sight.
Rose's is not a grocery store with fresh apples. I am not sure what it would be called. Sort of a combination of Aldi's, Big Lots and a Vanity Fair outlet store. Also, Rose's does not have a bathroom.
Lynchburg actually has a sign on the highway that says, "Entering the Metropolis of Lynchburg, TN." Talk about hyperbole!!!!
I saw a truck speeding, and I do mean speeding down I24 (I caved and got on the interstate at Monteagle since I had already been driving 3 hours to get 1 1/2 hours down the road) that had "Even a brick wants to be part of something." I thought that a very fitting metaphor for life. I think we all want to be part of something. Actually, we all are or will be part of something. I guess we need to be wise about what we choose. I assume the driver of the truck was either a maker or layer of bricks.
I really can eat a meal by myself in a restaurant. Perhaps, there were people who noticed me there alone and wondered about my story. They might have been surprised at the wonderful life I have at home. Most likely, no one even took note of my presence.
Some things that are humorous are also quite sad, like the loud middle-aged, overweight, bespectacled, balding man on a date at Cracker Barrel with a beautiful younger woman. It seemed as though he was trying desperately to impress her with his refined gourmand palate that was insulted by the undercooked grits, and his periodic poorly executed Italian accent.
That blogger does not seem to work as I wish on the iPad, so I have no idea how this is going to turn out.
For today, I wish you safe travels wherever you may go, a family who loves you, and I wish you
Blessings
Tuesday, May 28, 2013
Walkabout
In 2 days, I am going on a "walkabout." Actually, since I am neither Australian nor will I be walking, perhaps a better moniker would be "driveabout." I have a vague notion of where I will be going. No reservations for lodging have been made. The interstate will be avoided as much as possible. Back roads will be my friend.
In the almost 61 years of my life, I have never done such a thing. I have gone to places with Mr. Lincoln, and while he ran a marathon or attended a seminar, I have explored cities on my own, but I have never actually traveled anywhere for any length of time by myself. But, I need some time to myself, and with Mr. Lincoln's almost frighteningly enthusiastic encouragement, I will travel to find it.
Life is wonderful. My children and grandsons are great lights in my life. My mom is recovering well, although slowly, from her surgery. Mr. Lincoln and I get along famously. I have wonderful friends. But, my head is not on straight. I find myself more easily frustrated with people and things than I normally am. I find myself on the receiving end of others' anger, and I find it confusing. I say I love the quote, "what others think about me is none of my business," but I find myself in my head giving people "what for." I do not like it.
So, I will leave the familiar surroundings of home for a few days. I have as many as 6 days that I can be gone, but I do not see that happening. I am certain I will miss family, home, my wonderful Egyptian cotton sheets, and will make my way back in a couple or three days; hopefully with my head on a little straighter.
I may blog about each day. I may not blog about each day. I suspect they won't be all that exciting. I hope they will be spent communing with nature and God. I hope that I will return home filled with the Spirit, and exhibiting the fruit of the Spirit a bit better than I have been recently.
So for today, if you are a praying person, I solicit your prayers for safe travels and a successful "straightening of my head," and I wish you
blessings
In the almost 61 years of my life, I have never done such a thing. I have gone to places with Mr. Lincoln, and while he ran a marathon or attended a seminar, I have explored cities on my own, but I have never actually traveled anywhere for any length of time by myself. But, I need some time to myself, and with Mr. Lincoln's almost frighteningly enthusiastic encouragement, I will travel to find it.
Life is wonderful. My children and grandsons are great lights in my life. My mom is recovering well, although slowly, from her surgery. Mr. Lincoln and I get along famously. I have wonderful friends. But, my head is not on straight. I find myself more easily frustrated with people and things than I normally am. I find myself on the receiving end of others' anger, and I find it confusing. I say I love the quote, "what others think about me is none of my business," but I find myself in my head giving people "what for." I do not like it.
So, I will leave the familiar surroundings of home for a few days. I have as many as 6 days that I can be gone, but I do not see that happening. I am certain I will miss family, home, my wonderful Egyptian cotton sheets, and will make my way back in a couple or three days; hopefully with my head on a little straighter.
I may blog about each day. I may not blog about each day. I suspect they won't be all that exciting. I hope they will be spent communing with nature and God. I hope that I will return home filled with the Spirit, and exhibiting the fruit of the Spirit a bit better than I have been recently.
So for today, if you are a praying person, I solicit your prayers for safe travels and a successful "straightening of my head," and I wish you
blessings
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