I am loving this day. The weather is threatening to get wicked, but for now, it is Halloween perfect. It makes me think of many of the October 31's I have enjoyed.
Random memories in no particular order...isn't that what random means?
Marshall's first-he is 10 days old. I took a picture of him with a giant skeleton's arm around his shoulders.
Mr. Lincoln never participated in Trick or Treating. He said it was because every year his mother threw a sheet over his head, cut two holes out for eyes, and he was a ghost, yet again. Enthusiasm for the holiday did not run high in his home.
My mom decorated lavishly every year. At age 89, she still does. I remember once my dad jumping up from the kitchen table and running into the dining room during dinner. We thought he had lost his mind, but, no, he had noticed a fire reflected in the kitchen window. A papier mâché jack-o-lantern was flaming in the dining room.
Ooh, do I ever remember when my brother held a gun with a firecracker hanging out of the barrel a bit too closely to a burning candle. The deafening explosion sent my mother into conniptions, and caused Mike and his friend to be banned from the house.
When Sam was a baby, my friend, Becky, and I decorated his stroller and took him door to door to collect candy....for us. Our bags were loaded when a neighborhood dog began to eagerly bark and chase us. Becky screamed, threw her bag, candy flying everywhere, as she took off running. I struggled behind her, just as scared, but it would have been difficult to explain to Mom why I had left Sam behind. If I recall, correctly, I saved both Sam and my candy.
Costumes I remember...me as a rather heavy, old lady....actually, I did that twice. The first time was without a mask. No one knew who I was except for my most observant friend, Bernie, who said she recognized my eyes. The second time, my own daddy did not recognize me. Great disguise!! MP as Raggedy Ann, oh, my stars she was precious. Marshall wearing Mr. Lincoln's shoes all day in "Miss" Eva's two-year-old class. He was one cute clown. The kids as headless people, Marshall as the queen, MP as a ghost, and in one snapshot, she looked translucent. That picture still gives me the willies. My parents dressed as little kids from the backcountry with missing teeth. They were a hoot. Mr. Lincoln as a gorilla. He played the part well. Me as a clown that had a frightening resemblance to John Wayne Gacy. Between that and my mother's witch costume, Doree's neighbor children ran out of her house wailing. I felt pretty badly about that one. Oh, and, of course, the cutest little dragon and elephant ever this year.
Times change. My first Halloweens were spent at 1920 Moran. Chili or maybe spaghetti on the menu. Always we had ginger snaps and apple cider. When my children were very young, we continued to go to Mom's. by this point, it was a bit too dangerous to go to just anyone's door so we always saw the Leeches, the Murphy's, and the Kornmeyer's. Rarely did we miss visiting Mr. Roy Acuff 's house. They gave great treats. As my children grew, the Halloween celebration was moved to our house. From here we always went to Mz. Bernie's and Mr. Bud's. wherever else we might have gone, we never missed their house. Then our Halloweens moved to Doree's and Stewart's who lived in the best neighborhoods for trick or treating. I can still see Cole dressed as some sort of specter seemingly floating above ground from house to house. Chili remained on the menu. We rode in the bed of Stewart's pick up truck.
This year, we are back at our house. We will have no trick or treaters....well, I hope not because our front porch is missing. Taco salad is our dinner fare. Max will not be here, but we got to spend Sunday evening with him at Trunk or Treat, which seems the trend these days. Simeon will be here. Channie and Cole have parties to attend. It will not be a rowdy evening, unless the weather takes that wicked turn. It will not be just Halloween 2013 for me. It will be a windswept stroll down Memory Lane.
Thursday, October 31, 2013
Tuesday, October 22, 2013
An Unintentional Revelation
The parents and grandparents arrived early today. It was a cold morning, so as they arrived I invited them to wait inside in the warmth. One of the early ones looked older than the others. He explained that he was a grandfather. I figured as much. I told him, as I am wont to do, that I was relatively new to this grand-parenting thing with two one-year-old grandsons. He said, "I have seven and they really keep me busy."
He explained how he is doing something all the time with one or the other grandchild. Tomorrow, he will be going to a pumpkin patch with one of them. I fear he may be even colder tomorrow than he was today. "All my grandchildren live in Murfreesboro, and I live in Nashville," he explained. "I really do not like that drive." Now, I haven't earned the moniker "Mellie Mend It" for nothing, so I offered that perhaps he might consider moving to Murfreesboro himself. "We'll, I can't right now. My wife's mother is still living. She lives about three minutes from us, so as long as she is living, we will stay in Nashville."
This man was merely making conversation as we awaited the arrival of the group. I sensed neither braggadocio nor serious complaint. He was just idly chatting. He unintentionally revealed much about himself. I suspect he was a father who lovingly served his children. He is probably a very hard worker. He continues to serve his children by loving and tending to his grandchildren. He understands the importance of children having someone involved in their lives, chaperoning field trips. He honors his wife by serving her mother. He radiated kindness and joy. He seeks neither fame nor fortune. He is satisfied to serve. He is the best sort of man.
I wonder what my unintentional revelations say about me.
For today, I wish you unexpected meetings of lovely people, uplifting unintentional revelations for others, and I wish you
Blessings
He explained how he is doing something all the time with one or the other grandchild. Tomorrow, he will be going to a pumpkin patch with one of them. I fear he may be even colder tomorrow than he was today. "All my grandchildren live in Murfreesboro, and I live in Nashville," he explained. "I really do not like that drive." Now, I haven't earned the moniker "Mellie Mend It" for nothing, so I offered that perhaps he might consider moving to Murfreesboro himself. "We'll, I can't right now. My wife's mother is still living. She lives about three minutes from us, so as long as she is living, we will stay in Nashville."
This man was merely making conversation as we awaited the arrival of the group. I sensed neither braggadocio nor serious complaint. He was just idly chatting. He unintentionally revealed much about himself. I suspect he was a father who lovingly served his children. He is probably a very hard worker. He continues to serve his children by loving and tending to his grandchildren. He understands the importance of children having someone involved in their lives, chaperoning field trips. He honors his wife by serving her mother. He radiated kindness and joy. He seeks neither fame nor fortune. He is satisfied to serve. He is the best sort of man.
I wonder what my unintentional revelations say about me.
For today, I wish you unexpected meetings of lovely people, uplifting unintentional revelations for others, and I wish you
Blessings
Wednesday, October 16, 2013
What to Call How I'm Feeling
Today, I am feeling blessed. That term bothers people I know and love. Some really resent being wished a blessed day, or blessings on their day. On some level that makes sense. We think of blessings as coming from God, and when the disparity of blessings, or lack thereof, is witnessed, it makes God seem unfair, arbitrary, and capricious....or nonexistent. This inequity of blessings is one reason some atheists are atheists. Well, it is probably not THE reason anyone embraces atheism, but the imbalance of blessings is one more nail in the coffin of incredulousness a non-believer experiences. It would be foolish to try to minimize that. It would be foolish to try to explain. I have no explanation.
But, today, as most days, I am feeling blessed. Certainly, it is not because of anything I have done to earn this sense of blessedness. In a way, it has very little to do with externals today. My neck hurts. I can barely turn my head. I do not know why. Perhaps, it is those 3 ruptured disks. The Advil I have taken for the pain makes my stomach hurt. My grandsons are not here. One is in Florida, one is at home being loved on and cared for by his other grandmother, a lovely, lovely woman. I miss them. The morning started off with some stress; the cause of which I have to just tell myself will not matter in five years. I have accomplished pretty much nothing today besides eating, including opening a 4 pound bag of chocolate chips and eating a handful of those. I suppose I should feel fortunate that I have not eaten all 4 pounds. It is after 1:00, and I don't think I have even brushed my teeth yet. Not a productive day, to say the least.
But, I am feeling blessed today. I am not sure why. I am not sure if "blessed" is the right word to use. I do not feel giddy, or particularly "happy." I am not sure if contented is even a good word. Maybe, I feel lucky, or fortunate, or, I do not know. Maybe grateful is right.
I am grateful for Simeon and Max, for my children, for their spouses, for this dreary, cool fall day, for a husband I love and like and enjoy spending time with but can be apart from, for my mother, for this house that has cracks and doors that won't work and a suspicious musty odor when it rains, for the memories of my family of origin, for those of that family with whom I still can spend time, for a brother who moved home giving us the opportunity to know and love each other, for the love I feel especially from 2 or 3 friends in particular (you know who you are), for texts from a niece in Arkansas who saw a car like mine and was disappointed it was not me, for another niece who shows great character and determination, for a nephew whose kindness and sweetness touch my heart, for a neck that hurts so when it doesn't I will appreciate the lack of pain, for a car that runs, for food to eat, for a church family I love, for gracious emails from a friend from high school, for equally gracious emails from a young man I greatly admire, for a phone call from someone with whom I had lost contact and plans for lunch have been made, for the thoughtfulness of a father whose child participated in a tour yesterday, for the physical ability to walk and talk in order to conduct those tours, for holidays approaching, for a precious family of 4 in Minnesota who I love from the bottom of my heart, for all the people who have come and gone in my life, for those who have come and stayed, and for so many more things I am most grateful.
Am I blessed? I believe so. I do not know why. How do I handle these blessings? It depends. Some days I refuse to see them, and focus totally on what I think I do not have. Some days I take them for granted, as though they were owed me. Some days, just some days, I recognize some of them. On my best days, I share them.
For today, I wish you a "best day" of sharing your
blessings
But, today, as most days, I am feeling blessed. Certainly, it is not because of anything I have done to earn this sense of blessedness. In a way, it has very little to do with externals today. My neck hurts. I can barely turn my head. I do not know why. Perhaps, it is those 3 ruptured disks. The Advil I have taken for the pain makes my stomach hurt. My grandsons are not here. One is in Florida, one is at home being loved on and cared for by his other grandmother, a lovely, lovely woman. I miss them. The morning started off with some stress; the cause of which I have to just tell myself will not matter in five years. I have accomplished pretty much nothing today besides eating, including opening a 4 pound bag of chocolate chips and eating a handful of those. I suppose I should feel fortunate that I have not eaten all 4 pounds. It is after 1:00, and I don't think I have even brushed my teeth yet. Not a productive day, to say the least.
But, I am feeling blessed today. I am not sure why. I am not sure if "blessed" is the right word to use. I do not feel giddy, or particularly "happy." I am not sure if contented is even a good word. Maybe, I feel lucky, or fortunate, or, I do not know. Maybe grateful is right.
I am grateful for Simeon and Max, for my children, for their spouses, for this dreary, cool fall day, for a husband I love and like and enjoy spending time with but can be apart from, for my mother, for this house that has cracks and doors that won't work and a suspicious musty odor when it rains, for the memories of my family of origin, for those of that family with whom I still can spend time, for a brother who moved home giving us the opportunity to know and love each other, for the love I feel especially from 2 or 3 friends in particular (you know who you are), for texts from a niece in Arkansas who saw a car like mine and was disappointed it was not me, for another niece who shows great character and determination, for a nephew whose kindness and sweetness touch my heart, for a neck that hurts so when it doesn't I will appreciate the lack of pain, for a car that runs, for food to eat, for a church family I love, for gracious emails from a friend from high school, for equally gracious emails from a young man I greatly admire, for a phone call from someone with whom I had lost contact and plans for lunch have been made, for the thoughtfulness of a father whose child participated in a tour yesterday, for the physical ability to walk and talk in order to conduct those tours, for holidays approaching, for a precious family of 4 in Minnesota who I love from the bottom of my heart, for all the people who have come and gone in my life, for those who have come and stayed, and for so many more things I am most grateful.
Am I blessed? I believe so. I do not know why. How do I handle these blessings? It depends. Some days I refuse to see them, and focus totally on what I think I do not have. Some days I take them for granted, as though they were owed me. Some days, just some days, I recognize some of them. On my best days, I share them.
For today, I wish you a "best day" of sharing your
blessings
Saturday, October 12, 2013
Peace, a Valuable Commodity
Very few things in life are as valuable as peace of mind. That has been illuminated for me as I watch myself and others longing for and often failing to capture a peaceful heart.
Really, how can one be peaceful in this world? So much is on Facebook about the government shut down, the president, and congress. People are riled. Jobs are being lost. Insurances changed. Premiums rising. Taxes assessed. It is enough to make a person feel churned up inside. Some actually believe the photoshopped picture of Mt. Rushmore being covered by a tarp. I will say my favorite FB post was the one that said: "the Washington Redskins are changing their name. Because of the hatred, violence and rancor caused by the name, they will from now on be known simply as the Redskins." LOVE THAT! Just a little levity in the midst of a lot of anxiety.
Peace is hard to find when loved ones feel terrorized. Just this week I have talked to someone waiting for news from medical tests that will either leave her with some time to coast, or cause her to have to make some really tough decisions. Another friend, waiting in the hospital for a heart transplant, learned this week that he has a cancerous nodule on his thyroid which removed him from the transplant list. Another friend anxious over a pregnancy; another whose adult son is very ill. I talked with someone whose marriage is in a shambles..."we just don't get along." I know others who are burdened with financial strain. One told me of her mother in the nursing home who is just not right in her head making her very difficult. We hear stories of war torn countries, hurricanes bearing down on innocent people, child abuse, and murder. One friend told me of an acquaintance who is dying of a brain tumor, and her nine year old son is being physically and violently bullied at school. Peace? Where can peace be found in the midst of this turmoil?
For me, a believer in Jesus, certainly I am told that peace can be found in Him. I believe that, but sometimes it is so very elusive. He is not elusive, but my ability to tap into His peace is.
Oftentimes, peace is an "inside job." Finding what brings peace to our spirits is probably about as varied as there are people. Exercise, meditation, yoga, prayer, Candy Crush (nah), Bible study, Hallmark movies, just lying on the sofa and being quiet, self-talk, spending time with friends, not spending time with friends, not watching the news or reading the paper, watching the news and reading the paper. Whatever it is, we each need a source of peace. Finding peace in our circumstances does not mean that we are unaware of our circumstances. It just means we have made a choice.
I found some peace in my heart today spending it in companionable conversation on a beautiful day during a short road trip with Nancy. We talked and laughed and commiserated and encouraged each other. I feel peaceful this afternoon. Nothing that was robbing me of my peace has been removed from my life. But with some time away, I am able to see it a bit better. I find peace when Mr. Lincoln gives me a good long hug. It is home. Peace for me is a stroll through Radnor (not with 2 babies and no stroller, that's just stupid) or Cheekwood. Peace for me is my house to myself for a few hours. I find peace making up my mind to see my surroundings as I wish them to be and not as they are...what potholes in the driveway? If I cannot fix it, for whatever reason, I choose not to let it rob me of my peace....most of the time. Sometimes I just cave in a become a screaming maniac...in my head...rarely do I really scream where others can hear me. I am searching for peace...always searching for peace.
So for today, I wish you peace and I wish you
blessings
Really, how can one be peaceful in this world? So much is on Facebook about the government shut down, the president, and congress. People are riled. Jobs are being lost. Insurances changed. Premiums rising. Taxes assessed. It is enough to make a person feel churned up inside. Some actually believe the photoshopped picture of Mt. Rushmore being covered by a tarp. I will say my favorite FB post was the one that said: "the Washington Redskins are changing their name. Because of the hatred, violence and rancor caused by the name, they will from now on be known simply as the Redskins." LOVE THAT! Just a little levity in the midst of a lot of anxiety.
Peace is hard to find when loved ones feel terrorized. Just this week I have talked to someone waiting for news from medical tests that will either leave her with some time to coast, or cause her to have to make some really tough decisions. Another friend, waiting in the hospital for a heart transplant, learned this week that he has a cancerous nodule on his thyroid which removed him from the transplant list. Another friend anxious over a pregnancy; another whose adult son is very ill. I talked with someone whose marriage is in a shambles..."we just don't get along." I know others who are burdened with financial strain. One told me of her mother in the nursing home who is just not right in her head making her very difficult. We hear stories of war torn countries, hurricanes bearing down on innocent people, child abuse, and murder. One friend told me of an acquaintance who is dying of a brain tumor, and her nine year old son is being physically and violently bullied at school. Peace? Where can peace be found in the midst of this turmoil?
For me, a believer in Jesus, certainly I am told that peace can be found in Him. I believe that, but sometimes it is so very elusive. He is not elusive, but my ability to tap into His peace is.
Oftentimes, peace is an "inside job." Finding what brings peace to our spirits is probably about as varied as there are people. Exercise, meditation, yoga, prayer, Candy Crush (nah), Bible study, Hallmark movies, just lying on the sofa and being quiet, self-talk, spending time with friends, not spending time with friends, not watching the news or reading the paper, watching the news and reading the paper. Whatever it is, we each need a source of peace. Finding peace in our circumstances does not mean that we are unaware of our circumstances. It just means we have made a choice.
I found some peace in my heart today spending it in companionable conversation on a beautiful day during a short road trip with Nancy. We talked and laughed and commiserated and encouraged each other. I feel peaceful this afternoon. Nothing that was robbing me of my peace has been removed from my life. But with some time away, I am able to see it a bit better. I find peace when Mr. Lincoln gives me a good long hug. It is home. Peace for me is a stroll through Radnor (not with 2 babies and no stroller, that's just stupid) or Cheekwood. Peace for me is my house to myself for a few hours. I find peace making up my mind to see my surroundings as I wish them to be and not as they are...what potholes in the driveway? If I cannot fix it, for whatever reason, I choose not to let it rob me of my peace....most of the time. Sometimes I just cave in a become a screaming maniac...in my head...rarely do I really scream where others can hear me. I am searching for peace...always searching for peace.
So for today, I wish you peace and I wish you
blessings
Wednesday, September 18, 2013
Reflections on the Day
5:30 am is really early for a one-year-old....and a sixty-one-year-old.
A 2 1/2 hour nap is not nearly as satisfying as a 4 hour nap....especially if one has been up since 5:30am
Paper comes out the same way it goes in....'nuf said.
A one-year-old can be on his knees pushing a plastic baby wipes holder across the floor, fall over and bloody his nose and mouth. Go figure!!
There is a certain kind of sippy cup that I hate, yes, hate. The pressure builds up, and sprays my glasses with milk. Really, I hate that thing.
Handing a one-year-old a Baggie of shredded cheese to eat on his own is not smart.
A Baggie will seriously impede the suction of a Hoover Linx vacuum.
Reading Spot Goes to the Library does not necessarily promote library etiquette. Sorry about that, folks.
The glass in a picture frame will break just as thoroughly when dropped by a one-year-old as when dropped by an adult.
A 4x6 piece of glass can disintegrate into a lot of little pieces.
Glasses that sit under a kid's nose do nothing to help said child's vision.
Trebuchet!! The battle cry of little boys both of whom can seriously launch a pumpkin. Sorry about that Johnny Howell market workers.
Max has never seen a Better Homes and Gardens magazine that he does not enjoy tearing up.
Trying to put a diaper on a one-year-old who does not want his diaper changed is like wrestling a tiger.
With determination and a bit of a downhill slope, Simeon can push Max in the wagon across the whole front yard.
A 24 roll package of toilet paper serves many purposes....a step up for Simeon to get in his car seat and a soft place to land when Max takes a dive out of his.
For today, I wish you fond reflections on your day, and I wish you
Blessings
A 2 1/2 hour nap is not nearly as satisfying as a 4 hour nap....especially if one has been up since 5:30am
Paper comes out the same way it goes in....'nuf said.
A one-year-old can be on his knees pushing a plastic baby wipes holder across the floor, fall over and bloody his nose and mouth. Go figure!!
There is a certain kind of sippy cup that I hate, yes, hate. The pressure builds up, and sprays my glasses with milk. Really, I hate that thing.
Handing a one-year-old a Baggie of shredded cheese to eat on his own is not smart.
A Baggie will seriously impede the suction of a Hoover Linx vacuum.
Reading Spot Goes to the Library does not necessarily promote library etiquette. Sorry about that, folks.
The glass in a picture frame will break just as thoroughly when dropped by a one-year-old as when dropped by an adult.
A 4x6 piece of glass can disintegrate into a lot of little pieces.
Glasses that sit under a kid's nose do nothing to help said child's vision.
Trebuchet!! The battle cry of little boys both of whom can seriously launch a pumpkin. Sorry about that Johnny Howell market workers.
Max has never seen a Better Homes and Gardens magazine that he does not enjoy tearing up.
Trying to put a diaper on a one-year-old who does not want his diaper changed is like wrestling a tiger.
With determination and a bit of a downhill slope, Simeon can push Max in the wagon across the whole front yard.
A 24 roll package of toilet paper serves many purposes....a step up for Simeon to get in his car seat and a soft place to land when Max takes a dive out of his.
For today, I wish you fond reflections on your day, and I wish you
Blessings
Tuesday, September 10, 2013
Danger! Danger! A Grandmother's Warning
This world is fraught with danger, and I am not talking about weapons of mass destruction...well, yes, I am, but not the kind that have been in the news. Keeping one-year-old boys has newly opened my eyes to the perils of this life. As a grandmother, dangers loom much larger than they did as a parent.
The kitchen sink is clogged. A cup of soda down the drain followed by vinegar (I just really love the results of that combination) with a chaser of boiling water was what was needed. Oh, wait. If I boil water on the stove, one of the boys might somehow figure out how to open the gate, or worse, they could be in cahoots and somehow help each other get over and what if I don't hear them and they get underfoot and I spill scalding water on them? Never mind, the sink will have to remain clogged.
Who knew a kid's rocking chair could be such a hazard? A couple weeks ago, while Fizzie sat right beside him, Max flipped the chair over, hit the floor found himself trapped underneath, and let out a cry that would have waken the dead. Telling him to "shake it off" was not going to be helpful. The same chair yesterday, whacked Simeon in the head as he rocked. Yep, the dead were roused yet again.
And, then there are the toys. Who makes these things with buttons that could fall off, or hair that somehow could get tangled in their teeth and pull them out. How can such a tiny mouth hold an entire plastic Easter egg? Don't the makers of bubbles know that little eyes can be burned by bubble soap? Maybe, I will make some with baby shampoo, but, no wait, what exactly is Polyquaternium-10? That can't be good for a baby. Forget the bubbles.
Why is the drawer in the table upon which the TV sits such a fascination? Well, they are boys, and that is where the remotes are, but there are batteries in the remotes, and what if they think they are candy and eat them,and what if they remain in cahoots after attempts to breach kitchen security by crashing the gate and decide to rock the TV table turning it and the TV over on them? Maybe I will block the TV with the rocking chairs, but they could climb on those like they do on the table by the sofa and then there will be real trouble. I will just sit here and not take my eye off them.
Simeon and I took a walk this morning I am certain he was eyeing the drainage pipes going under the driveways. We had a talk about never, never, ever crawling through those, and he will never, never, ever hear the tales of his Mellie and her siblings and friends doing such crazy things growing up. Sometimes hiding in the drainage pipes under the Kornmeyer's drive was the only way to get away. But, never, never, ever are Simeon and Max to know such a thing.
Shelves are tethered, tables and a birdcage stand are moved to a locked room before the boys arrive. I did not think of the birdcage stand until Simmie pulled it over on himself yesterday. He did not cry so, oh, dear why isn't he crying? Wonder if he has a concussion. Well, no, he got right up, he seems fine, who would have thought he would even find it something worthy of notice, how did he not break the glass boboches on the little chandelier hanging on the birdcage stand, and who hangs a chandelier on a birdcage stand anyway, and how did he manage to break every one of the turquoise candles in the chandelier, oh, well, he seems fine, better move that thing into a locked room. What? Now he has knocked himself in the head with the little plate stand in the hallway!! Okay, into a locked room it goes too.
So, life is full of peril, especially if you happen to be the grandmother to two one-year-old boys. Did you know there is a website entitled the "Hidden Dangers of Yogurt?" I will not even mention all the possibilities for harm the wooden back scratcher carries. Yep, that locked room is really filling up.
For today, I wish you the company of one-year-olds, safety, and I wish you
Blessings
The kitchen sink is clogged. A cup of soda down the drain followed by vinegar (I just really love the results of that combination) with a chaser of boiling water was what was needed. Oh, wait. If I boil water on the stove, one of the boys might somehow figure out how to open the gate, or worse, they could be in cahoots and somehow help each other get over and what if I don't hear them and they get underfoot and I spill scalding water on them? Never mind, the sink will have to remain clogged.
Who knew a kid's rocking chair could be such a hazard? A couple weeks ago, while Fizzie sat right beside him, Max flipped the chair over, hit the floor found himself trapped underneath, and let out a cry that would have waken the dead. Telling him to "shake it off" was not going to be helpful. The same chair yesterday, whacked Simeon in the head as he rocked. Yep, the dead were roused yet again.
And, then there are the toys. Who makes these things with buttons that could fall off, or hair that somehow could get tangled in their teeth and pull them out. How can such a tiny mouth hold an entire plastic Easter egg? Don't the makers of bubbles know that little eyes can be burned by bubble soap? Maybe, I will make some with baby shampoo, but, no wait, what exactly is Polyquaternium-10? That can't be good for a baby. Forget the bubbles.
Why is the drawer in the table upon which the TV sits such a fascination? Well, they are boys, and that is where the remotes are, but there are batteries in the remotes, and what if they think they are candy and eat them,and what if they remain in cahoots after attempts to breach kitchen security by crashing the gate and decide to rock the TV table turning it and the TV over on them? Maybe I will block the TV with the rocking chairs, but they could climb on those like they do on the table by the sofa and then there will be real trouble. I will just sit here and not take my eye off them.
Simeon and I took a walk this morning I am certain he was eyeing the drainage pipes going under the driveways. We had a talk about never, never, ever crawling through those, and he will never, never, ever hear the tales of his Mellie and her siblings and friends doing such crazy things growing up. Sometimes hiding in the drainage pipes under the Kornmeyer's drive was the only way to get away. But, never, never, ever are Simeon and Max to know such a thing.
Shelves are tethered, tables and a birdcage stand are moved to a locked room before the boys arrive. I did not think of the birdcage stand until Simmie pulled it over on himself yesterday. He did not cry so, oh, dear why isn't he crying? Wonder if he has a concussion. Well, no, he got right up, he seems fine, who would have thought he would even find it something worthy of notice, how did he not break the glass boboches on the little chandelier hanging on the birdcage stand, and who hangs a chandelier on a birdcage stand anyway, and how did he manage to break every one of the turquoise candles in the chandelier, oh, well, he seems fine, better move that thing into a locked room. What? Now he has knocked himself in the head with the little plate stand in the hallway!! Okay, into a locked room it goes too.
So, life is full of peril, especially if you happen to be the grandmother to two one-year-old boys. Did you know there is a website entitled the "Hidden Dangers of Yogurt?" I will not even mention all the possibilities for harm the wooden back scratcher carries. Yep, that locked room is really filling up.
For today, I wish you the company of one-year-olds, safety, and I wish you
Blessings
Saturday, September 7, 2013
"Christians are bipolar," he said...
He sat on the steps of the church eating Ramen noodles. I asked him how he was doing. "Having to eat out of the dumpster today," he said.
I admit, I wondered who had thrown Ramen noodles in a dumpster, but could not think of a graceful, non-incredulous-sounding way of asking. He quickly satisfied my curiosity by explaining that a fellow homeless gentleman shared the noodles with him.
"I am really sorry," I replied. "I have $2.00, and you are welcome to it, but I realize it won't get you much. I wish I had more."
He said he had been back in Nashville for two weeks. Someone had stolen his backpack and the clothes in it. I am thinking, seriously? Not, seriously are you lying to me, but seriously, who steals from a homeless person? How very privileged of me. I suspect it was taken by someone who is hopeless and desperate as well.
He seemed embarrassed that the jeans he had on were dirty, but he had no others.
"You know ma'am lots of Christians are bi-polar. You know what I mean by that?"
"I'm not sure. Help me understand what you mean."
"We'll, they go to church, and they look good and are all right acting there, but you get them out on the street and they don't do a thing to help."
"Hmmmmmm, I am afraid that I do know what you mean." I see a bipolar Christian in the mirror every morning.
I asked him if he was aware of resources available to him. He had not heard of the ones I suggested. He did not know of Father Strobel, and said that he is not Catholic. I assured him that he did not have to be. He shared that he does not have an ID. I had no idea if that was a problem or not. I tried to reach a minister at church, but he was not available. I knew I would be able to get help at church, I just did not have time at the moment to work it out as I was about to begin a tour.
"What is your name?"
"Earnest."
"My name is Marilyn. It is a pleasure to know you."
"I's nice to meet you."
"Well, Earnest, give me some time, and I will work on finding you some clothes. Where can I find you, say tomorrow morning?" I do not have time for this, I have to be at church tomorrow morning. Really? Church is going to keep you from meeting Earnest in the morning? Really?
"I will be down on 2nd Avenue tonight, and then I usually come sit on the church steps every morning."
"What time?"
"Sleeping on the concrete, I am usually up here by 4:00."
4:00 a.m.? Not going to happen, Earnest.
The people I was waiting for arrived. "It was a privilege meeting you, Earnest."
"No, ma'am, it was my privilege."
We parted ways, probably with each of us thinking there was no way we would meet in the morning....me thinking that he was a "typical" homeless person who just cannot be depended on to be where they say they will be, and him thinking that I was a "typical bipolar Christian."
Neither of us was taking into account God's grace in making sure that His children meet their divine appointments.
For today, I wish you a church that responds, I wish you trust in a God who will see that you meet the most important divine appointments, and I wish you
blessings
I admit, I wondered who had thrown Ramen noodles in a dumpster, but could not think of a graceful, non-incredulous-sounding way of asking. He quickly satisfied my curiosity by explaining that a fellow homeless gentleman shared the noodles with him.
"I am really sorry," I replied. "I have $2.00, and you are welcome to it, but I realize it won't get you much. I wish I had more."
He said he had been back in Nashville for two weeks. Someone had stolen his backpack and the clothes in it. I am thinking, seriously? Not, seriously are you lying to me, but seriously, who steals from a homeless person? How very privileged of me. I suspect it was taken by someone who is hopeless and desperate as well.
He seemed embarrassed that the jeans he had on were dirty, but he had no others.
"You know ma'am lots of Christians are bi-polar. You know what I mean by that?"
"I'm not sure. Help me understand what you mean."
"We'll, they go to church, and they look good and are all right acting there, but you get them out on the street and they don't do a thing to help."
"Hmmmmmm, I am afraid that I do know what you mean." I see a bipolar Christian in the mirror every morning.
I asked him if he was aware of resources available to him. He had not heard of the ones I suggested. He did not know of Father Strobel, and said that he is not Catholic. I assured him that he did not have to be. He shared that he does not have an ID. I had no idea if that was a problem or not. I tried to reach a minister at church, but he was not available. I knew I would be able to get help at church, I just did not have time at the moment to work it out as I was about to begin a tour.
"What is your name?"
"Earnest."
"My name is Marilyn. It is a pleasure to know you."
"I's nice to meet you."
"Well, Earnest, give me some time, and I will work on finding you some clothes. Where can I find you, say tomorrow morning?" I do not have time for this, I have to be at church tomorrow morning. Really? Church is going to keep you from meeting Earnest in the morning? Really?
"I will be down on 2nd Avenue tonight, and then I usually come sit on the church steps every morning."
"What time?"
"Sleeping on the concrete, I am usually up here by 4:00."
4:00 a.m.? Not going to happen, Earnest.
The people I was waiting for arrived. "It was a privilege meeting you, Earnest."
"No, ma'am, it was my privilege."
We parted ways, probably with each of us thinking there was no way we would meet in the morning....me thinking that he was a "typical" homeless person who just cannot be depended on to be where they say they will be, and him thinking that I was a "typical bipolar Christian."
Neither of us was taking into account God's grace in making sure that His children meet their divine appointments.
For today, I wish you a church that responds, I wish you trust in a God who will see that you meet the most important divine appointments, and I wish you
blessings
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