A Time Gone By

With the passing of Barbara Billingsley, more famously known as June Cleaver, I feel like a precious gift has passed too. A time has gone by. A time when mothers were usually found in the kitchen chopping vegetables or baking a cake and whipping up icing. A time when women wore dresses and fussed over the pillows on the window seat. A time when breakfast was eaten together at a reasonable time in the kitchen and dinner was eaten together while dad departed pearls of wisdom on his children at the dining room table. A time when gossip was frowned upon, lying was punished, promiscuity was discouraged and cheating was offensive. A time when romance happened slowly over many dates. A time when little boys played in trees and parks and dirt and mud and little girls played with dolls and swings and bicycles. A time when church was the focus of the week and the Sunday School lesson was talked about in school. A time when American heroes were the highlight of the evening news. A time when the television went to test patterns after the late show and New York City slept. I find myself longing for that time gone by. Wishing for a slower pace and a peace of mind that comes from having a house in order and a family that is close by and connected. Progress . . .

Triple Blessing OR Beauty Is In The Eye Of The Beholder

Sometimes we lament over the troubles of our life and we forget to count our blessings. Sometimes we have to gently remind each other to count our blessings. Sometimes we have to force each other to stand up and proclaim those blessings. I have to confess, I love that last one. Not because I'm bossy or anything (lest you get the wrong idea about me), it's just because I love helping others realize how truly blessed they are. It's wonderful when I see someone proclaiming the good things God has put in their life. It makes me feel good when the people I love feel happy. It's a double blessing when I am a vehicle to making them feel good. Last week I had the joy of forcing my husband to stand up and proclaim his blessings. Not that he is a grumpy guy or anything (lest you get the wrong idea about him), but because we have a lot of "stuff" going on. So, in his proclamation of his blessings, he made the following statement, ". . and I have a beautiful wife who loves me. . ." "Awwww," I thought, "I must remember he said that when I count my blessings." Which were triple that day; #1 - I had the blessing of seeing the man I love be happy over his blessings, #2 - I was a vehicle to his happiness and #3 - (a very fortunate blessing for me) beauty is in the eye of the beholder.

Definition Of Beauty

Do you know why women in the 21st century don't age gracefully? It's because we don't know what that looks like. Everywhere we turn society is telling us to: fade the age spots, lift the eyes, fill in the wrinkles, color the grey, tuck the tummy, firm the body, plump the lips, nip the neck, and for goodness sake, whiten your teeth. If you can't be young, at least look young, act young, pretend you're young. We spend so much time chasing after youth that we miss the beauty of gracefully aging. "The silver-haired head is a crown of glory. . . And the splendor of old men is their grey head." (Proverbs 16:13 and 20:29) We used to associate age with wisdom and respect, but not anymore. The constant message in our culture is to be young and beautiful, as if one is dependent on the other. When did beauty get so tied up with youth? The most beautiful woman I have ever known was my grandmother. She was not tall, slender, blond or young. But she was witty, wise and warm. When I think of her I smile. Gramma would not fit into society's definition of beauty - but beautiful she was. She shined with it. Gramma never rubbed beauty serum on her skin or colored her hair, but everybody wanted to be near her. That's what real beauty is, drawing people to yourself because of who you are, not what you look like. Because of Gramma I know what real beauty is. It's not something you can get in a bottle at the drug store, it's something you age gracefully in to by accepting the passing of time with love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control (Gal 5:22). It's who my grandmother was and who I strive to be.

Rant

If we lived in a world where love ranked higher than revenge, where kind words flowed off our lips as easily as sexual innuendo, where good deeds overshadowed hate crimes, where love making was behind closed doors with married folks and not broad casted, where society protects and (yes, I will say it, that dirty word), SHELTERED the eyes and ears of little ones . . . if we lived in a world like that, then maybe (and it's a big maybe), I could see a place for Facebook. However, our world is not one of humility or discernment or modesty. Don't be mad at me if you are one of the few folks who uses Facebook in positive way, I know you exist. I will, however, say that the benefits (what benefits) of having Facebook DO NOT out weight the risks. What risks? Seeing and reading some of the most vile and negative pictures and statements. Wasting time trying to figure out what initials mean only to find out it's vulgar. Having advertisements flashing their lies (sins) at you. Spending hours, yes folks hours, a day updating your Facebook page, but then saying you don't have time to volunteer. I wondered if anyone was watching the kids, only to realize that someone needs to be watching the adults. Facebook is one drug that has too many negative side effects, it should be taken off the market.

Secret #2 - Puppies and Ponies

My kids were young when the Nightmare On Elm Street series came out. It was appropriately named because when I saw a commercial for it, I had nightmares. My kid's friends were watching it. Naturally, my kids asked if they could watch it too. We said, "No." "But," they'd whine, "whyyyyyyyyyya?" "Because," we'd tell them, "when you go to sleep we don't want you to have nightmarish thoughts in your head. We want you to have thoughts of puppies and ponies. We want good and happy things dancing in your brain; Godly things; things that are true, noble, just, pure and lovely; things that are excellent and worthy of praise." (Phil. 4:8) We provided them with an assortment of stories and movies and puzzles and games about puppies and ponies (and whales). We sat with our children for hours on end reading and watching and playing. That's when we discovered the secret. It was a double blessing for my husband and I as we had hours of time with our children and when we went to bed, satisfied with the events of the day, we dreamed of puppies and ponies, too. And because we always try to practice what we teach, we watched and read and played things that were all of good report. The secret is that we have a choice of what we think on. Garbage in, garbage out or graciousness in, graciousness out? Puppies and ponies or porn and poop? You decide.

Secret #1

About 25 years ago, my husband and I were invited to a black tie affair. We really didn't want to go, but it was one of those things that we knew we should do. So, we got ourselves dressed and off we went. While we were there, we saw an older man who was dressed in his black tuxedo. He was standing in the crowd with his arms folded across his chest in a rather defiant pose. His hair was a thick, wavy, grey mess all over his head. It was quite a comical sight. My husband and I saw him at the same moment. I leaned in and whispered to my husband, "I'll go to this stuffy party, but I won't comb my hair!" We laughed and enjoyed ourselves the rest of the night. We learned a lesson that night. In this life there are things that we have to do, things we should do and things we can simple say no thanks to. The secret to finding peace and joy is figuring out which situation fits into which category and then accepting it gracefully. So when we have to or should do something that we don't want to do we look at each other and say, in a resigned manner, "I'll go . . . but I won't comb my hair!" It reminds us how we did, indeed, enjoy that black tie affair all those many years ago and that being defiant would only rob us of our peace and joy. So, we get dressed, we comb our hair, we do what we have to do and sometimes we even forget that we didn't want to go.

Look who's eating my parsley!

Don't Be Hating Eve

It's hard to imagine the perfect life that Adam and Eve enjoyed in the Garden of Eden before Eve ate from the tree of knowledge of good and evil. Imagine. All the fresh fruits and vegetables that hung on the most beautiful of trees. The rivers were full of gold and onyx and the mountains rich in beauty. A mist went up from the earth and watered the whole face of the ground. What joy to the senses - seeing God's creation, smelling natural herbs and flowers, touching unpolluted water, hearing God's Holy voice, and tasting the sweetness of pure foods. Seriously, what more could Eve have wanted? Does it make you so mad that Eve messed all that up? How long do you think it took? How long before the serpent tempted Eve? How long before Eve caved in and ate what she knew from God, her Creator, that she should not? Oh, Eve, how could you? You really blew it! But before you get too mad at Eve, we really don't know if it was a few hours, a few days, a few years, a few decades . . . the Bible doesn't say. I'd like to believe that if God gave me all that He gave Eve, I'd be content to follow His commands forever. However, I am just like Eve, always wanting more blessings, with my eyes bigger than my stomach. Maybe Eve was just having a bad day . . . you know, off her game . . . feeling a little insecure in her humanness. Maybe we're all a little like that, so don't be hating Eve.

My New Sewing Room

I am a terrible liar. I laugh when I lie. And I usually laugh when someone accuses me of lying, which of course, only makes me look guilty. My kids know that my "tell" is laughing. We have a friend who repeatedly nibbles at his lower lip when he lies, it's his "tell". He just doesn't try to lie to us anymore, which of course, is a good thing. It is surprising when I can prank one of my kids, because I usually start laughing the second they come into the room. They say, "What are you up to?" Which only makes me laugh harder. It's pathetic really. So, when I told my middle daughter who is going away to college (boohoo - all the way to Florida) that I was turning her room into a sewing room and I didn't even crack a smile, she believed me. She was very insulted that I already had plans for her room before she was even out the door. But I immediately felt bad that she felt bad so I confessed it was a joke and I started to laugh. She didn't believe me that it was a joke. You see, I didn't laugh when I lied, which I usually do, and then I did laugh when I told her the truth, which I don't usually do, so she thinks I'm turning her room into a sewing room when she leaves. Every time I tell her I'm not going to, I laugh, which makes me look guilty. . . I don't know why I laugh, I can't help it. Maybe I'm lying to myself and I really am going to turn her room into a sewing room . . . hahahaha . . . just . . . hahaha . . . kidding . . . hahaha . . . honey. . . hahahaha . . .

What Did You Learn In Kindergarten?

I have heard folks saying, "all I really needed to know I learned in kindergarten." Well, I have to say I disagree. In kindergarten I ate like a slob, I hated napping, I hit others when I didn't get my way, I made messes that I left for others to clean up, I didn't listen, I lied, I picked my nose and I forgot my address. In fact, my report card from kindergarten states that I knew my name and address the first semester, but not the second semester. Obviously, I needed to learn beyond kindergarten. And beyond that, I needed to learn some important stuff that you just don't learn in school. Did you know that when you throw a party for 65 people it's the coffee and cake that matters more than the dinner food? Did you know that honoring the "guest of honor" with an embarrassing but heart-felt poem is more touching a gift than a jewel? Did you know that greeting your guests with sincere enjoyment is better than sounding trumpets to announce them? Did you know that love is the most important ingredient in party preparation? Do you know where I learned all this from? Not from my teachers, not from my friends, not from Emily Post . . . I learned from watching my mother. Thanks Mom, I hope you enjoyed the party even though that monster moth seemed to love you as much as I do . . .

Mary, Mary Quite Contrary

Mary, Mary, quite contrary, how does your garden grow? With Monster sunflowers!! I never understood why Mary was so contrary. Her garden grew well. She had someone care enough about her to ask her how her garden grew. She even had silver bells. What more did Mary need? Sheesh! My garden, as you can see, is growing quite well. My daughter is about 5 and 1/2 feet tall and the sunflowers tower over her. My watermelons are quite delicious and I have more tomatoes than I can handle. The green beans must be close cousins to Jack's magic beans because they are also giant. All these, plus some pepper plants, were planted in our community garden plot. Through the hard work of a very dedicated and loving family, a community is growing together. Literally. Naturally, we have the best plot, not because our garden is better than anyone else's (actually far from it), just because we are right next to the water spigot. Location, location, location. I have been tricking my kids all summer. I say, "Will you come with me to the store, I'll get you a milkshake on the way home?" They say, "Okay." And when they are belted in and we are driving down the street, I say, "Oh, I have to stop at the garden first." (hee-hee) Sometimes they are quite contrary. . .

Not Funny

My kids have been retelling a story that I personally don't think is funny. However, since they are getting a kick out if I thought I would tell here. My kids were 8, 10 and 12 at the time. They all played sports, the girls were taking piano lessons, they all had play-dates. We went on homeschool trips, to the library, to Girls Scouts and Boys Club. We delivered Meals on Wheels and did a mother-daughter book club. Needless to say, we were in my car a lot. We carried many supplies in the car; soccer cleats and baseball equipment, chairs and blankets, crayons and pads, snacks and juice boxes, cassettes of children's music and CD's of Ella Fitzgerald, bug spray and sunscreen, Tylenol and Benadryl, inhalers and Epi-pens, tissues and sanitizer, etc. etc. etc. For all the driving around I did and all the packing and unpacking the car I did, all I ever asked the kids to do was pick up the garbage before they got out and ran into the house. Sheesh, you have thought I was asking them to detail the car with a toothbrush. This particular day I asked, sweetly, "Children, would you please pick up any garbage in your space and please throw it out for me?" This is how they responded, "It's not my mess," and "I didn't do it," and "That's not fair!" I had had it! I turned to them and yelled, "I don't care if little green martians came down from Mars and crapped in the car, YOU'RE CLEANING IT UP!" Now, is that so funny??

The Library Card

When the kids were little, going to the library was a big deal. We went every week. We were able to take out 10 books per library card. Using my card and my husband's card we were able to take out 20 books at a time. The kids LOVED getting books. In fact, they couldn't wait until they got their own card to take books out. I mean that literally, my oldest hid a book under her winter coat when she was 5. I noticed it when I tried to belt her in. I told my kids, "When you can write your name, without my help, on a straight line, you may get your own library card." My first born has 9 letters in her first name. She was 5 and a half when she got her card. My second born only has 7 letters in her first name. She was 5 and a half when she got her card. My son, he didn't care so much. He only has 5 letters in his name. He was 6 and a half when he got his card. Our library is a small town library and very frugal. Library cards are only replaced if they are lost, and then for fee . . . after interrogation. I'm not saying the Librarian is scary, just that my kids never lost their cards. My middle daughter is now 18 and went to take a college level test to be tested out of Natural Science so she can take Physics in college. When she arrived at testing they asked her for 2 forms of identification. All she had, other than her drivers license, was her library card that she signed almost 13 years ago. The card was graciously accepted and she passed the test and that is my story about The Library Card.

A New York Minute, Part III

. . . Just like in one of those artsy filming scenes, time seemed to freeze for a second for me. Everyone else was buzzing to and fro and I was stuck in the moment, truly present for the first time that day. I stopped my husband and daughter,"I'll be right back," I told them. I walked up to the homeless man and said, "I can't give you any money, but if you're hungry I can feed you?" He nodded. I went and got the personal pizza - personal now in the sense that it matter greatly to me - and I handed the box to the man. He looked up at me and nodded a thank you. "Can I pray over your meal?" I heard myself ask. He nodded again. For the third time that day I would address God, and for the second time that day I would kneel down in New York City in my white Capri's. Only this time I would kneel on the dirty pavement and my words were not focused on me. I prayed words that came from the Holy Spirit, personal things that I would never say to a stranger, bold things that I asked in faith and in love. In my position kneeling on the ground, this man who was sitting on a duffel bag, was above me. I was reminded of this verse in Philippians, ". . . in lowliness of mind let each esteem others better than himself. Let each of you look out not only for his own interest, but also for the interests of others." 2:3b-4. In a New York Minute my attention, my interests and my focus was changed. In a New York minute a homeless man ministered to me by the power of the Word of God. In a New York minute I went from panic to praise. You gotta' love New York! And you gotta' love God!

A New York Minute, Part II

. . . I made it through the Lincoln Tunnel . . . barely. We found a nice little Italian restaurant that was thankfully not too crowded, where I ordered a tall glass of ice. I held the ice on my wrists and neck and tried not to panic. I hate hot flashes, I hate menopause and I hate crowded cities. But, I love Broadway, I love my husband and I love my daughter. I went into the bathroom for the 5th time before the food even came. Only this time, I put two paper towels on the floor (I was wearing white Capri's) and knelt down to have myself a little talk with God. I asked God to give me peace so I can be present to the day's events. When I got back to the table the food had arrived. I had ordered a personal pizza, but it wasn't personal in the sense that one person could eat it, it was huge! I choked down one slice and had the rest boxed up to take home. The restaurant said they would hold the left over pizza until the play was over. I was a bit shaky and a bit achy and still hot. Needless to say, I was a bit distracted. Half a block away from the restaurant we walked past a man sitting on a duffel bag holding a cardboard sign that simply read, "Homeless." The city was hot and crowded, but this man seemed not to notice. On the contrary, he seemed to feel cold and lonely . . .

To be continued . . .

A New York Minute, Part I

I must preface this story with this fact. What I was experiencing this day was the beginning of passing my kidney stones. Since I had never passed a kidney stone before I didn't know it. I misread my body symptoms and assumed I was in the throws of a menopausal episode that caused me to have anxiety. Who knew?

The morning that my husband, my daughter and I were heading to NYC to see The 39 Steps began like most mornings. I woke up way too early but was way too tired to get out of bed. So, I began to pray. Meeting with God the first thing in the morning is wonderful. Midway through my conversation with God I started having a hot flash. Only this hot flash lasted a loooooonnnng time. "Great," I thought, "we're heading to New York where it's hot and crowded. Just what I need - menopause!" I got dressed to go - white capri's and sleeveless of course, with a scarf thrown in my bag for the air conditioned theatre - and off we went. I was having one long hot flash that seemed to get worse just as we entered the Lincoln Tunnel. That was when the anxiety set in. I mean we were just about 100 feet under the Hudson River in a tube that's only 13 feet tall and 20 feet wide . . . breathe . . .


To be continued. . .

I'm Toast

As you all know, I like to make light of the circumstances and situations we find ourselves in. As you also know, I have a serious side when it comes to life lessons from God. This post will have neither. How do you make light of a vice principal who unduly takes away your child's position because a crusty teacher lies? How do you make light of an insurance company who terminates your policy, without notice or justification, while you're passing kidney stones? How do you make light of having a serious allergic reaction to medication that was designed to make you well? How do you make light of a public agency who claims to protect children and places them in a shelter instead of a home? How do you make light of a company that charges way too much for Internet service that was out 2 weeks? How do you make light of crazy people who verbally assault you with no provocation? The short answer is you don't. Whatever lesson God is trying to teach me is, so far, lost on me. I'm sure there is a lesson, but what it is is unbeknownst to me. On the bright side . . . I did spend a few peaceful days at the beach, no sunburn, no jellyfish, no biting flies, no bad weather, a short surprise visit with a friend and some precious time with my family. And a dear, dear friend, reading in between the lines of my last post, reached out to me and made my day. God is good all the time, even when I'm toast.

Time For Laughter

If it is at all possible, go and see the play The 39 Steps on Broadway. It is a family safe play that is very funny. Even better, have your daughter take you . . . (thank you again peanut!)

In our hectic lives we must (must!) take time to laugh. There is so much work to be done and so many folks who can't do it by themselves. If we are going to be a light to others we need (need!) to take time to laugh. How can we go to someone and tell them we want to help them if we are wearing an old worn out face. How can we say, "Be joyful in all circumstances," and then not be joyful ourselves. Hypocrite! When you can't find the humor or joy in your circumstances, find it somewhere else (like a play, for instance). And by all means, don't waste your time helping folks who should be helping themselves. I'm not saying don't lend a hand or a word of encouragement, but help the folks who need it. Let your joy be evident, let your light shine, crack a smile or even better, just laugh.

Hold My Hand

The kidney stones passed, the allergic reaction passed, the secondary infection is getting better, but this too shall pass. The day is ending and I think about all the things that are going on in my life, but all this too shall pass. And it's good to let these things pass, to let the anger and annoyance and impatience to pass. When my kids were little I used to hold their hand when I had to tell them something I knew they wouldn't want to hear. I'd say, "Hold my hand because it's hard to be mad at someone when you're holding hands with them." You know, they always let me hold their hand, even though they knew it meant I would be telling them something unpleasant. Well, right now, God has got my hand. And no matter what He's got to say, I'll keep holding His hand because I know I am safe. I would rather hold His hand and hear something unpleasant than to have my way and an empty hand. Wherever God leads, I'm following. I may not always like it, but I know it's way better to be in His hand than any other place on or off the planet. When He said, "Take my hand because I've got something to say," I knew in my heart it might be unpleasant, but I never hesitated and I'm not letting go . . .

Birthing vs. Kidney Stones

Birthing babies hurt. God told us it would. Darn that Eve. However, God created our bodies in such a way that our bodies could accommodate the process. He gave us nice wide hips (thank you God), intermittent contractions, hormones and a flexible birth canal. I'm not saying birthing babies doesn't hurt, I'm just saying that God warned us about it and He made our bodies with all the right parts to do it. Now on the other hand, kidney stones hurt. Our bodies were not made to pass a stone. The path that a stone takes is not one that our bodies were ever expected to allow. I have heard women say, "My husband passed a stone last night, you'd think he'd just given birth." Or, "I told him try birthing a 9 pound baby!" Well, I am here to tell you ladies, passing a stone is equal to or greater than giving birth. Have a little compassion for those men in your life. Can you imagine if while you were giving birth your husband said to you, "If you think that hurts try passing a kidney stone!" Having done both now, birthing and passing kidney stones, I will surely have more compassion for those around me suffering. But, please don't don't go complaining about a hang nail, I would have to say, "Toughen up cupcake!"