tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-66242819555550998882024-03-13T11:10:49.427-07:00Marsha YoungA little about God, gardening, and gratitude: living large in small ways.Marsha Younghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05880659808422182525noreply@blogger.comBlogger351125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6624281955555099888.post-10731315435726135552016-03-21T16:10:00.001-07:002018-06-25T18:51:14.622-07:00This Is The Day ...<span style="color: blue; font-size: large;"><i>This is the day the Lord has made. Let us rejoice and be glad in it. (Psalm 118:24)</i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> # # # #</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">It is pouring rain outside my window. Not drizzling, not showering, not lightly falling. No, it is pouring buckets, raining cats and dogs, pick your cliche'.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">And I am loving it. Oh, here comes another cloud burst. The winds rattle the window panes, the pine needles peck the skylight as they plummet toward the plexiglass. And on and on it rains. And now, in addition to water and wind, we are also being treated to a thickening fog, delicate and mysterious among the tall pine trees that surround our house.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">We are so thankful, here in Northern California, after more than four years of an historic drought to see the lakes and reservoirs filling up. We watch the local and state rainfall measurements with all the fascination with which a teenager watches You Tube or MTV. We are, in a word, delighted.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">In my own case, I am further delighted when I reflect upon what a day like this would have meant for me just a few years ago.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">How I hated waking up to a downpour. It meant that my commute would be more treacherous than usual. It meant that I would arrive at my office building to find all the usual parking places filled with vehicles that were not necessarily authorized to park there. People were </span><span style="font-size: large;">willing to dare breaking the parking rules when being drenched.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Consequently, I would need to dash through the deluge, battling umbrella, briefcase, and electronic key card, hoping none of them got away from me before I made landfall at the great glass doors of the employee entrance.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">By that time, my shoes were soaked, my hair was a mess, and my bones had already begun to ache. By evening I would be visibly limping, and by the time I arrived back home, I would be headed for the medicine cabinet in jig time to quickly down something to take the edge off my aching arthritic knees ... and back ... and hands.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">A warm rain can be a wonderful thing. But winters in Nor. Calif. generally involve cold, wet, windy storms that can chill you right down to your very last proverbial bone. Such weather cries out for the electric heating pad to be set on the highest temperature. Cups of hot tea must be consumed in quantity.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">And during those days of yesteryear, such weather also meant that twice each day - coming and going - I could expect to find myself chilled, damp, and thoroughly miserable.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> # # #</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Today, I sit here in my little rocker recliner pecking happily away on my laptop like a robin pecking for worms in springtime - while outside it pours. There is a baseball game on TV, a pot of tea on the counter, and peace in my heart.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">I smile when I think of how worriedly my former boss asked about whether I had truly considered the implications of resigning from the well-paying position I held in order to retire. Was I sure we had enough saved? Did I really think we could maintain our standard of living? What about the stock market gyrations?</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> # # #</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Tell you what. I happily traded that paycheck, that came with a crazy commute and crazier schedule, for a warm and cozy room with a great big window from which to watch it rain like crazy while I smile in quiet gratitude. I would do it again in a heartbeat.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">I am also keenly aware that not everyone gets to make such a blessed choice. So today, I simply say a prayer for mercy and strength for those who must still brave the elements to earn their way. I am so everlastingly grateful to be where I am; as Jan Karon recently put it, to be Somewhere Safe with Somebody Good.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> # # #</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Hope you are in a good safe place today - warm and content. If you are not there yet, I hope you are headed in that direction. Until next time ~ Marsha</span>Marsha Younghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05880659808422182525noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6624281955555099888.post-81135377770657359832016-03-18T07:04:00.002-07:002016-03-18T07:04:19.721-07:00On Being Robbed At a Funeral<span style="font-size: large;">The other morning I was in a meeting with a group of good women who had gathered to do some of the Lord's work. But we got distracted.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Before we had been gathered ten minutes someone mentioned the distressing item from the previous evening's local news broadcast. Someone had slipped into our church offices (right next door to the very room in which we were meeting) and, while the office was briefly unattended, had stolen some one's purse.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">The thief had been clearly caught on the church security cameras, and this video was broadcast the next evening on the local news. We were all fairly disgusted and decidedly perturbed, when one of our group said quietly, "Yes, it was my purse she stole, and it was during my mother's funeral services."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">What!</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">The questions then flew fast and furiously. Has she been caught yet? Did you get your purse back? Did you have any money in it? What about your debit and credit cards? Are you pressing charges?</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">The gentle soul whose purse was taken, just smiled and said that she and her husband did not care too much about the money, although yes, some was taken. She was paying attention to her mother's home-going celebration at the time of the theft, and now they were letting the police handle the robbery. She said they did not plan to involve themselves any further than was necessary.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">The clear message was that while unfortunate things happen - and sometimes at the most inopportune times - she was paying attention to more important matters. She made this clear without bitterness or self-righteousness. Her focus was simply elsewhere.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Her whole attitude blessed me. She was paying attention to what mattered.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> # # #</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Eugene Peterson, the author of The Message version of the Bible, wrote an excellent book entitled <b>A Long Obedience in the Same Direction: Discipleship in an Instant Society.</b> In it he says, </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><i>"Christian discipleship is a process of <b>paying more and more attention to God's righteousness </b>and less and less attention to our own; finding meaning of our lives not by probing our moods and motives and morals but by believing in God's will and purposes ...".</i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Well, hello and hallelujah!</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">When we focus on God's will and purposes we find ourselves relaxing in ways we never imagined. We have less need to demonstrate our own righteousness (as if we ever really had any) and more and more willingness to depend upon His.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">That is my idea of both blessed assurance and blessed relief all at the same time. And it comes to us as we pay attention to the right things and to the Righteous One.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">When we do this, we are less distracted and distraught by unforeseen circumstances, unanticipated griefs, and unplanned detours. It is not that we ignore such things in our lives, but rather it is that we are paying attention to something more important.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">When we do that, we are not daunted not even by being robbed at our own mother's funeral. Yes, it is a hard world in which we live. But aren't we glad that there is One who is over it all, has it all under His watch care, and will never leave us nor forsake us?</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> # # #</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I want to pay attention to the better things. Hope your attention is fixed on good things, too. Until next time ~ Marsha</span><span style="font-size: large;"> </span>Marsha Younghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05880659808422182525noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6624281955555099888.post-75683381902420687872016-03-09T19:18:00.000-08:002016-03-09T19:18:54.861-08:00A Necessary Father<span style="font-size: large;">This week, the famous and very talented writer, Pat Conroy died. He is best known for his books The Great Santini and The Prince of Tides, among others. In particular the novel The Great Santini, about an abusive military father and his relationship with his family, was largely autobiographical. Conroy's father, a decorated marine fighter pilot, was a great soldier and a bona fide war hero. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">But he was also a terrible husband and an abusive father, who scarred Conroy for life. One of Conroy's later novels was entitled South of Broad. It was set in Charleston, S.C. and one of its main characters was a loving and lovable father.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">This was uncharacteristic in his stories. In one of the articles I read after his passing, Conroy had commented in an interview about developing this story with a good father in it by saying, "I always needed one, so I created one."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">How sad.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">He always needed one so he created one in his fiction.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Some of us had loving and wonderful fathers. Some of us did not. But everyone needs such a father, whether they realize it or not.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Here is what Conroy apparently did not know; we each have a loving father and we do not have to "create him" because He first created us.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">And as I John tells us, "We love because He first loved us."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> # # #</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Hope you are safely at home tonight, with the Father who loves you and created you. There is no need for any of us to create one for ourselves.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Blessings to you ~ Marsha</span>Marsha Younghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05880659808422182525noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6624281955555099888.post-16756345461546932682016-03-07T14:03:00.001-08:002016-03-07T14:03:11.071-08:00Of Atoms and Archangels<span style="font-size: large;">I was doing my morning devotional reading this morning when I ran across this phrase from The Message version of <b>Psalm 89:11.</b></span><br />
<br />
<i><b><span style="color: blue; font-size: large;">You own the cosmos - you made everything in it,</span></b></i><br />
<i><b><span style="color: blue; font-size: large;"> everything from atom to archangel.</span></b></i><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Now that woke me up and got my juices flowing.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">As busy, hopefully productive, people we like to spout phrases such as -</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> "full capacity"</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"> " significant bandwidth"</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"> "span of control"</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">All the "words" we use to try to indicate that we think - or at least hope - that we have some range of knowledge, influence or competency.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">We often delude ourselves.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Sometimes about the only thing I can operate at full capacity is the vacuum cleaner. My bandwidth consists of the daily dietary challenges related to my waistline, and as for span of control; good heavens, I gave that up as a lost cause years ago.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Nevertheless, there are still times when I kid myself that I "have it all together", that I am in control ... of something. I am just not quite sure what it is.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Then suddenly I am confronted with the eternal reality that is Him who knows no beginning and no end. Who is self-existent, who needs nothing, lacks nothing, but who is eternally generous with all that He is and all that He chooses to bestow upon us.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">It is He who runs the universe from "atom to archangel". Isn't that just mind-boggling?</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; font-size: large;">As Colossians 1:17 states</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: blue; font-size: large;"> <b>" ... [He] is holding it all together, right up to this</b></span><br />
<span style="color: blue;"><b style="background-color: white; font-size: x-large;"> very moment." </b><span style="background-color: white;">(MSG)</span></span><br />
<span style="color: blue; font-size: large;"><b style="background-color: white;"><br /></b></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: blue; font-size: large;"> # # #</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-size: large;">So, news flash for all <strike>you</strike> <i>us</i> control freaks, and get-it-together-junkies out there. We can all relax a little, because the One who owns the cosmos, all of it, from atoms to archangels, is holding it all together.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-size: large;"> # # #</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-size: large;">So let's unclench our jaws, our minds and our hearts, and try to relax a little. Maybe just trust Him with today. Just a thought.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-size: large;"> ~ Marsha</span>Marsha Younghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05880659808422182525noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6624281955555099888.post-9764043446576799852016-03-01T19:26:00.001-08:002016-03-01T19:26:24.701-08:00The Dangers of the Woodpile<span style="font-size: large;">Some people just will not learn, cannot be bothered - they are not sure about what they know but are surely determined to do something anyway. ~</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">The above is called "blithering". The blitherer would be me. The untoward provocation that resulted in said blithering would be the *LOC falling over the woodpile. I suppose it would not be so upsetting if I did not care about the old coot but ....... here is what happened.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"> # # #</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">The other afternoon I heard faint cries for assistance from down the hall, so I went to investigate. Given that there are only two inhabitants in our little domicile, it seemed fairly certain that the whimper was likely emanating from the LOC.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">He was sitting atop our California king-sized bed with his left foot stuck out over the edge of the bed, apparently so as to avoid getting blood from his makeshift bandage on the bedspread. Upon closer examination, it was not actually a bandage at all, but rather a sizable swirl of TP wrapped around his toes with concerning blood stains seeping through.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"For the love of Pete, what </span><i><span style="font-size: large;">have</span></i><span style="font-size: large;"> you done?" I asked in what could only be described as a "tone".</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"I was out stacking firewood."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">"And?"</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"Well, I guess I sort of tore off a toe nail or something. I 'm not exactly sure as I can't bend over that far to see it very well. I thought maybe you could take a look at it."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Long story short, he had partially torn his little toe nail off while stacking firewood.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"How could that happen? I don't understand. How could it tear through your shoe?"</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"Uh, well, uh, I didn't exactly have my shoes on."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"</span><b><span style="font-size: large;">What</span></b><span style="font-size: large;">? Have you lost your mind? Never mind - rhetorical question. You were stacking firewood barefoot?"</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"No, of course not. I had my slides on." (His open-toed, rubber slip ons.) </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"But I caught my foot with a piece that was stuck between some other pieces and when it came loose it swiped my foot and ...well..."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Hydrogen peroxide, Neosporin, bandages, moving on.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> # # #</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">A few days later the LOC rose gingerly from his recliner and limped toward the kitchen. I happened to glance up from my reading and saw him moving haltingly across the carpet, placing each foot carefully as he went. I didn't even want to ask but decided to just get it over with.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"What's the matter? You look like you can barely walk? Did you hurt yourself?" (Please note: I charitably did not add "again.")</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"Oh, nothing for you to worry about. Just a little sore, that's all."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"But you weren't limping yesterday. What happened?"</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"I had a little fall. No big deal. I'm fine."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Sure. Fine and dandy. Just a few bruised ribs, a barked shin, a nearly dislocated shoulder, and a wrenched back. Those are the injuries we could identify. Who knows what else was tweaked, bruised or micro-fractured?</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">The culprit? Once again it seems the woodpile had jumped up and attacked him, out of the blue, with no provocation whatsoever. He was just stacking wood, a few pieces shifted near where he was standing, he attempted to jump out of the way, and in so doing he fell over the woodpile.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">I bit my lip. I counted to ten. I took several deep calming breaths and then quietly asked what had to be asked.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">"Were you wearing your shoes, at least?"</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">The LOC was clearly irritated that I should ask such a silly question.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">"Of course I was."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> # # #</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">So we had a talk. I thought I was finished having "talks" about inappropriate behavior when my youngest child became an adult. I had not counted on the LOC's penchant for risk-taking at this time of life. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">We talked about the fact that we do have central heating, and thus, it is not necessary that we have a fire in the wood burning stove every single day. We discussed economy - the cost of a few dollars saved on the gas bill, versus potentially tens of thousands for a broken leg, or even worse, back surgery. We reviewed the fact that neither of us is exactly a spring chicken and the fact that some adjustments in our expectations of ourselves and our own bodies must be accepted.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">We talked. Or as the Lord himself once said to someone in need of a talking-to, "<i>Come now, let us reason together."</i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Finally, I thought we had reached, if not an agreement, something of an understanding. I must have been living on another planet where older fellows stack firewood made of marshmallows.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">For as I left the living room to go to the kitchen, the LOC looked up at me smiling and cheerfully stated, "But honey, I really </span><i><span style="font-size: large;">enjoy</span></i><span style="font-size: large;"> stacking firewood."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> # # #</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Here is the lesson I have decided to learn from all of this. (I do not know what the LOC has learned and I am not inclined to inquire at the moment.)</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Perhaps it is better to keep doing a little more than is strictly indicated than it is to just sit down and bemoan the fact that we can no longer do "this, that, and the other thing." Maybe one's "ailings" do not have to become one's permanent "failings" - failing to try, failing to enjoy, failing to make an effort.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">The fact that he admittedly could not bend over far enough to see his torn toenail, did not prevent him from working his self-appointed chore the next time. And the further fact that he limped a little as he started out the back door today, did not keep him from smiling as he approached the woodpile.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Maybe there are greater dangers lurking than the woodpile. Maybe a "sit and sulk" is a great deal more dangerous than a possible stumble now and then, while doing something you really enjoy.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> # # #</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Dear, Lord, help me to get moving and keep moving. Just saying ..... :)</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Hope your toes are intact, your ailments are few, and your smiles are many. </span><span style="font-size: large;">Until next time ~ Marsha</span><br />
<i>(*Lovable Old Coot)</i>Marsha Younghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05880659808422182525noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6624281955555099888.post-7411231462458241942016-02-18T12:35:00.002-08:002016-02-18T12:35:21.151-08:00Funerals, Weddings, and Moving Forward<span style="font-size: large;">My grandmother, one day long ago, expressed to my mother that she was feeling a bit lonely and downhearted. My mother asked Grandma Hazel (her mother), "Why don't you go visit a friend, Mom? That would make you feel better."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">To which my ever acerbic grandmother tartly replied, "All my friends are dead!"</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> # # # # #</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">There really is no snappy come-back for that one, is there?</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">We are at the stage in our lives where we attend more funerals and memorial services than we do weddings. It is the reality as you move through the third act of your life. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Of course, we could simply not go; but somehow that seems disrespectful of those who enriched our lives while they were here, and whose remaining family members seem to appreciate those who come to honor the life of their loved ones.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">However, in contrast, one of the nicest upsides to having dawdled about on the planet this long, is that we do get invited to quite a number "Golden Anniversary" parties. We attended another just last Friday evening. What a wonderful inspiration the happy couple have been to all who know them.</span><br />
<div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-size: large;">It was fun to watch the slide show of them in their younger years, when he still had hair and she still had a slim waistline. Fifty years, five children, and many trials and triumphs later, there they were - gladly smiling down on the rest of us from their own personal Olympus of fidelity and loyalty. I say good for them!</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-size: large;"> # # # # #</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-size: large;">Matthew admonishes us to "let your light shine before men so that they may see your good deeds and glorify your Father in heaven."</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-size: large;">(Matt. 5:16)</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Excellent advice. </span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-size: large;">However, I don't know about you, but my light has been doing a little flickering lately - putting out a fairly steady beam at times, and then dimming abruptly when confronted with the daunting darkness of our times. </span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><div>
<br /></div>
</span><div>
<span style="font-size: large;">Horrible public discourse, of a type and stripe designed to make all but the most insensitive cringe with shame at the depths to which we, as a country, have fallen in our coarsened diatribes.</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-size: large;">The papers (yes, we still subscribe to those antiquated missives) filled with tales of crimes so cruel and degrading that we sincerely wish they would spare us the details. The Bible tells us that some things ought not to be spoken of in public. Too true.</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-size: large;">And then will come some call to action, some invitation to carry on that is so strong and good that we can only ask God to give us strength and then begin to put one foot in front of the other.</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-size: large;">In that vein I think of the young mother of three, the youngest just barely a month old, who I recently heard speak. She was on her way back to Africa, with her husband and two slightly older children. To live among those whose customs and values are so very different. And yet she spoke with love and joy, looking forward to returning to that blighted and dangerous place. The love of God compels her. </span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-size: large;"> # # # # #</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-size: large;">May His love compel us to carry on, to move forward, despite frailty and fear, despite heartache and disappointment. For we do, indeed, have a "city which has foundations, whose builder and maker is God." All we have to do is to allow His love to compel us to keep going. # # #</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-size: large;">May you find the strength and joy to keep going today. Blessings to you ~ your fellow traveler, Marsha</span></div>
Marsha Younghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05880659808422182525noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6624281955555099888.post-33977199533338796652016-01-01T13:22:00.002-08:002016-01-01T13:22:50.143-08:00Changes and Challenges for a New Year<span style="font-size: large;">Happy New Year ! </span><span style="font-size: large;"> Welcome to 2016 !</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<div>
<span style="font-size: large;">We just finished watching the Rose Parade, a New Year's Day tradition in our house. The Rose Bowl is coming right up.</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-size: large;">Some things do not change. However, some things do change, especially if we will allow them to, and even more so if we will help bring about the change.</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-size: large;">Yesterday I visited my favorite used book store, rented two new best sellers (which I think is a wonderful innovation that allows me to read all the new books for a fraction of the cost of buying them) and wished the owner a happy new year.</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-size: large;">The LOC* is presently preoccupied with watching as many of the forty football "bowl games" as he can possibly manage. I can remember when there were really only about three or four bowl games.</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-size: large;">The Cotton Bowl, the Sugar Bowl, the Orange Bowl, and of course, the Rose Bowl. Now we have every thing from the Dingy Bowl to the Pot-Sticker Bowl. In my opinion, the whole thing has been <strike>bowled</strike> blown out of all proportion.</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-size: large;">Hence, my need for at least two books to read over the weekend, as there will be nothing on our TV that does not involve tackling, passing, running, kicking and scoring. I like football, but let us remember "all things in moderation" - hmmm?</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-size: large;">David (aka the LOC) believes in moderation in all things <i>other</i> than football.</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-size: large;">So I am reading pleasantly along, cup of tea at the ready, looking up to watch a few dozen robins hop in and out of the bird bath in the frosty backyard, when I turn the page to discover a piece of paper tucked into my current book that I did not put there. It is a piece of mail, apparently accidentally left there by the prior reader.</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-size: large;">Well, my goodness, look at that. She only lives about six blocks from us. I do not know her and I quickly tore up the paper to respect her privacy. </span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-size: large;">However, </span><span style="font-size: large;">what really caught my attention was the name of the street in the address. Rosebud. </span><span style="font-size: large;">It is a pretty street with lovely houses lining it. I have often driven down it. Rosebud.</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-size: large;">Then I immediately thought of the association with the word "rosebud" that anyone familiar with the movie classic <i>Citizen Kane</i> would recall. It is the last word whispered by the rich, powerful, and utterly alone antagonist played by Orson Wells. It is the name of a beloved family member from whom he has long been</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-size: large;">estranged; and as he dies, lonely and very alone in his vast mansion, it is the name on his lips as he draws his last breath. Rosebud.</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-size: large;">The scene is iconic in American movie-lore, and despite the fact that the move is over sixty or seventy years old, it still represents much of what is wrong with American society. Kane chose wealth, fame, and power, over love and loyalty. </span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-size: large;">To say his priorities were backwards is an understatement indeed. They were so wrong as to be cruel and even evil. A cautionary tale for sure.</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-size: large;">Throughout his life he had many opportunities to make different choices than the ones which led to his wretched circumstances at his death. Each time he chose selfishly, in favor of greed, power, self-aggrandizement. The results of those life-long choices, however, were not what he wanted them to be. His end was simply the logical consequence of his day-to-day choices. He could have chosen to change at any point in his journey, but he did not.</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-size: large;"> # # #</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-size: large;">Today we begin a new year. And as is the case each day, today is also the first day of the rest of my life, and of yours, however long or short that may be.</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-size: large;">This year will present each of us with changes and challenges. Some of which we will eagerly embrace, and others which we would not have willingly taken on. As writer Margaret Feinberg says, "Sometimes you choose the fight, sometimes the fight chooses you." </span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-size: large;">Whatever the struggles, challenges, changes, and yes, even fights, may come my way this year, I hope I can make choices that will lead to good things. Good outcomes. Good relationships. Good living.</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-size: large;">Certainly some changes are welcome and some are not. But for each one, we have a choice as to how we respond. Our challenges may help shape us, but it is our choices that define us.</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-size: large;">Hope your 2016 is a good year. May you have happy days, healthy and strong relationships, and may you make good choices throughout the coming year. And as Tiny Tim famously said, "God bless us one and all."</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-size: large;">Happy New Year ~ Marsha</span></div>
<div>
(*Lovable Old Coot)</div>
Marsha Younghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05880659808422182525noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6624281955555099888.post-62066421726902175692015-11-21T19:46:00.002-08:002015-11-21T19:46:42.096-08:00Fashing, fretting and baking !<span style="font-size: large;">It is a well known truism that everyone else seems to have a normal family, except for the person considering his or her own. You know who you are.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I always say that every family has a crazy Aunt Sally or a nutty Uncle Harry. And if you read many biographies, as I sometimes do, you soon realize that many families have a whole slew of oddballs.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">As I heard someone say recently, "This is just getting to be crazy." </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">To which her companion archly replied, "Oh, we passed crazy quite a while ago."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Maybe you did, too. Maybe your whole familial construct was a little off-kilter. If so, fret not. Or as the Scottish poet Robert Burns said, "Don't fash yourself." Meaning don't fret about it. It is actually fairly normal ... whatever that is.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Humor writer Patsy Clairmont wrote, "Normal is just a setting on your clothes dryer."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Well, don't I just wish someone had mentioned this to me about fifty years ago, before I spent so much energy "fashing myself" about how abnormal my own family was.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">For example, my grandfather never cooked breakfast for my grandmother once in his entire life. But he had a trio of pure bred hunting dogs, for which he would step lively on most mornings to cook them their favorite mash, and then humbly serve it to them out back in their kennel.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I mean, who does that? Perhaps my arms-length attitude toward cooking is rooted in this memory. I have long had a love/hate relationship with food and cooking. Love to eat, hate to cook. It is a dilemma.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Recently I read a book by John Ortberg entitled, <em>Everybody's Normal, Till You Get to Know Them.</em></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Well, hallelujah!</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">We can all relax - except for one thing. The holidays are almost upon us. Oh, rats. And here I thought that I just about had this "it is okay that our situation isn't typical" thing handled.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">The holidays, however, often bring out the worst in all of us, don't they? Some of us are wont to go into fashing, fretting, baking overload. You know who you are. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> # # #</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Sis likes pepper in her mashed potatoes. Okay, so she can just pepper her portion after it is on her plate. Right? Oh no. She stoutly maintains that the flavors do not blend enough, unless the pepper has been added at the same time you put in the butter, salt, and milk.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">So then later Uncle Joe asks with indignation, "Who was the idiot that put pepper in these mashed potatoes?"</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">And so it goes. One year I experimented with white pepper, foolishly thinking Sis would get her pepper-fix and Judgmental Joe would never know the difference.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Clearly, I live in fantasy land. Sis claimed there was no pepper in the potatoes, because she could not see it. And Joe complained that a mysterious <em>something</em> in the potatoes had given him heartburn.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Sometimes you just cannot win for losing.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">My mother-in-law loved giblets in her turkey stuffing. Such "giblets" - for those who may not be so informed - included the chopped up liver of the turkey. Yuuuccckk!</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">All I am going to say on <em>that</em> aberration is, thank goodness for Stove Top Stuffing.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Still, I naively thought that everyone liked chopped celery in the stuffing (or "dressing" if you prefer). I was quickly made aware of the error of my thinking, when someone, could that have been my own son, asked what was the green, stringy stuff in the stuffing?</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">There is just no pleasing some folks.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">And don't get me started on those who put cloves in their pumpkin pie recipe. Cloves? Really? Yes, yes, I know many recipes do call for this. I, however,</span><span style="font-size: large;"> would just as soon put mustard in the cranberry sauce.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> # # #</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">So 'tis the season of unlimited opportunities for comparisons. Uhhh, nope. I refuse to play that game anymore. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">The few people who know me well, and still like me, are some of the sanest people I know. Either that, or they must be as crazy as I am.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Well, at least we are comfortable with our own company. The normal folks will just have to fend for themselves.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> * * *</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Hope your Thanksgiving is filled with good people enjoying good food and one another's company. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I try to be thankful every day of the year; but I am truly grateful that I do not have to cook to demonstrate gratitude too often. :) Happy Thanksgiving! ~ Marsha</span>Marsha Younghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05880659808422182525noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6624281955555099888.post-78212381245876362432015-11-11T11:21:00.000-08:002015-11-11T14:32:41.604-08:00On Mending and Musing<span style="font-size: large;">Sitting here doing a little mending, while listening to James Taylor on the old Bose. Carolina is still on his mind. And he is still advising that we "shower the people [we] love with love".</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I am not much of a sewer as my mother did not sew and what little I ever knew of the skill, I learned the hard way. There are few domestic activities wherein self-stabbing is fairly routine; but mending is one of them, at least in my experience. And yes, I do own a thimble, but have generally found it more useful for illustrative purposes than for actual sewing.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Nevertheless, hems do fray and buttons pop off. These two tasks represent nearly the entire range of my mending skills. Actually "skill" is too fine a word for what I do with needle and thread. A more accurate description would be that I make rough repairs.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I do not really sew, I just take a stab at it now and then, and usually end up stabbing myself.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-size: large;"> # # #</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">As I was performing my basic mending tasks I thought about the word itself - mending. It is only found twice in the New Testament: Matthew 4:21 and Mark 1:19. (And then only in the King James Version. The NIV uses the word "preparing".) These verses are two different authors' accounts of the same event. Jesus, when he was first calling his disciples, came upon James and John who were mending their fishing nets at the time.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">They were fishermen repairing the tools of their trade since it is pretty hard to catch many fish using nets full of holes. Their nets were valuable, useful and costly to replace. So they mended.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Mending involves taking something that has already been used extensively, so much so that it is now ripped, torn, worn through, or missing something. It no longer "works" if you will. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Wearing socks with holes in them can give you a blister. </span><span style="font-size: large;">Wearing a shirt or a blouse with missing buttons will be uncomfortable. Cuffs flap open, plackets gap. Other things may show which were meant to remain covered. Mending is in order.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> # # #</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I have not always been skillful in mending other things in my life either. Relationships have sometimes been frayed or even torn. Some have been used so extensively that they have worn thin. Others definitely have something missing - and things flap around, or things which should have remained covered are suddenly on display.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">However, as clumsy as my mending efforts are with needle and thread, I do, nevertheless, make the attempt to mend. But I only mend things which are still too valuable, too useful, too needful to discard or give away.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">So it is with relationships. </span><span style="font-size: large;">One may need a new button of understanding, while another requires some darning, perhaps notes of appreciation or a gesture of kindness, where holes of over use have left the connection threadbare.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Mending is not my favorite thing. I am not very good at it. But I do it because to not do so means that items which would otherwise be lost to me are regained for use and enjoyment.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Taking the time, and making the effort, to mend a relationship can mean that something which may otherwise be lost to you, can be regained for mutual comfort and enjoyment.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> # # #</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">If you need to do a little mending, there is no time like the present. Some things are too important to leave frayed and torn. Does mending work every time? No, but it is still worth a try.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Hope your mending efforts are rewarded with good results. </span><span style="font-size: large;">Until next time ~ Marsha</span>Marsha Younghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05880659808422182525noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6624281955555099888.post-86411992716482174632015-11-03T07:08:00.004-08:002015-11-03T12:21:30.211-08:00No One Teaches Us How To ...<span style="font-size: large;">So there we were, two ladies of a certain age, sitting on a nice patio having a delectable brunch. I had the eggs Benedict and she had some kind of fruit compote thingy with fresh crusty bread.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">We chatted about this and that, in a desultory sort of way; most of our energy was being directed at the food which was being consumed with a good bit of energy.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">After covering the weather, recent political events, mutual acquaintances, kids, grand kids, and the like, she mentioned a recent discovery she had made about her person.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">"Marsha", she said a bit plaintively, "I am getting bumps on my fingers." And with this declaration she held up both hands for my inspection.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I just smiled at her sympathetically and held up both of my own hands for her to see.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">"Hon, we all get bumps on our fingers if we live long enough."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> # # #</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Here is a thought that struck me recently. I recall it distinctly only because I don't get a new thought all that often and it almost made me twinge.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">We teach babies to walk and toddlers to how to hold a spoon. We teach youngsters how to become adolescents and then, a few short years later, try to teach those same teens how to become responsible young adults.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">There is a veritable publishing bonanza of material on becoming parents, early career choices, and then dealing with a middle-aged crisis.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">And yet, no one teaches us how to grow old. (Oh, yes, there is the redoubtable AARP, but I don't really find their literature all that helpful. It is more like pablum for the geriatric set.)</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Art Linkletter, of "Kids Say the Darnedest Things" fame, once observed that "Growing older isn't for sissies."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">In my opinion, old Art knew whereof he spoke.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I am not just referring to well-known challenges like the fact that you cannot see to apply your makeup without your glasses, but you cannot apply your makeup while wearing them either. That old cabbage has been cooked before.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Therefore, in case no one has mentioned the following to you, and you happen to be interested in the topic, here are a few things to watch out for:</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">No matter how dexterous, ambi or otherwise, you may have been, there will come a time when your fingers no longer do just what you want them to do. They may point in directions you had no desire to point toward; and they may, indeed, develop certain anomalies (like my friend's bumps for example) which catch you unawares.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">It can be disconcerting.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Upon close examination of your other set of extremities, you may discover that all ten of them are no longer marching in quite the same direction.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">That can be confusing.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">And do not get me started on finding a comfortable set of shoes that do not look like you need corrective orthopedic surgery.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Furthermore, no one informed me that your feet keep growing, as long as you live. For several decades I wore a size 6 1/2 but in recent years realized that, while I might choose to continue to wear that size, I would do so at my own peril. I relented and went to a size 7.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Few people have anyone in their life brave enough to tell them when it is time to turn in their driver's license. Certainly no one told my stepfather, until after he rear-ended a stopped vehicle at a rail road crossing; and oh, by the way, it happened to be a local police officer's patrol car. He was about eighty-six at the time, and had just recently purchased a brand new pickup. What was he thinking?</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Of course, toward the end, he also spent considerable time petting a dog that had died forty years earlier. That is to say, he spent a lot of time stroking thin air, thinking old Fido was still there.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Talk about unnerving!</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> # # #</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">So what am I saying?</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Just that it comes to all of us, one day at a time, this business of growing older. For some it sneaks up on them and catches them completely unaware.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Some of us need lessons on how to age with some dignity. And hopefully with a shred or two of sanity in tact. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Still, for those who are paying attention, they may learn that despite the bumps and lumps and the odd hair here and there, or no longer any hair at all, there is still joy to be had in a sunrise, or a bird song, or the smile on an old friend's face.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">For rest of it, here are two pieces of advice that shouldn't go amiss; </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">a) use plenty of lotion on anything and nearly everything, and</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">b) for Pete's sake, eat your fruits and vegetables. (But don't put lotion on them.)</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> # # #</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Hope you have not been surprised this week by the face looking at you in the mirror. Herein ends this lesson - until next time, your older, but still learning, fellow traveler ~ Marsha</span>Marsha Younghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05880659808422182525noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6624281955555099888.post-76487476595382289812015-10-21T16:50:00.002-07:002015-10-21T16:50:29.250-07:00Grumpier Old Ladies<span style="font-size: large;">Folks, I am just going to have to admit, up front, that the *LOC has had a rough couple of mornings already this week, and it is only Wednesday. (He could use some prayer, if you're a mind to ...)</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Yesterday, we each had to go to the lab for routine blood draws. It has never happened before, that we each needed to go on the same day, but yesterday we did.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">To be clear, we are not sick, just old enough that, much like older vehicles that need a little more maintenance after a 100K on the old engine, we need a little more maintenance /upkeep.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">So here was the rough part. These were those dratted "fasting" blood tests; no food, no water for twelve hours before the test. This meant that we got up yesterday and had to actually figure out how to get ourselves washed, teeth brushed, and dressed - find the garage, where we hoped the car was still parked- and </span><span style="font-size: large;">all manner of incredibly complex efforts had to be undertaken without the aid of either hot tea or hot coffee. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I don't mind going twelve hours without food, but tea or coffee? Come on.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Well, let me tell you, it was a madhouse around here yesterday morning. It is a blinking miracle that one of us didn't wind up in the hospital. Just saying ...</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">"Where's the toothpaste?"</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">"How would I know?" (I frankly don't know my own middle name when I have not yet had a cup of tea to get the old synapse firing.)</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">"Is the back door locked?" (I am not even sure where the back door <em>is</em> - remember - I have had no tea!)</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">To make matters worse, the faucet on my sink - we have a dual sink vanity in the master bathroom - is not working, the plumber is not due for another day or two, so the LOC had turned off the water under that sink. I am schlepping stuff back and forth between the master bathroom and the hall bath where the faucet <em>is</em> working.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I may be only half-awake; but even in that pitiable state I have better sense than to try to share one little sink with a guy over six feet tall, with shoulders the size of small boulders.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">In the midst of my somnambulant schlepping, the LOC asks kindly, "Would it help if I turned the water back on at your sink?"</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">"No, thanks. More trouble than its worth", I mumble.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Two more trips back and forth, got the moisturizer, but forgot the Revitalift - and believe me, today I need all the "lift" that face cream can give me.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">"Are you sure it wouldn't be better if I just turned that faucet back on for a few minutes? It's not leaking that badly."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">"No, <em>thank</em> you." Somehow "thank you" didn't sound very grateful.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Two more trips, got the brush, forgot the hand-mirror.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">"I'd be glad to turn that faucet .."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">"For crying out loud, would you just forget about that faucet and let's get going." No gratitude at all, this time.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">He made some <em>sotto voce</em> comment about "grumpy old women" - I offered a rejoinder about people who "can't take no for an answer" and so it went.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Well, we got to the lab, they drained our veins, and we repaired to the Kalico Kitchen - and none too soon. I grabbed a stray coffee carafe on our way to our table and just chugged it straight down without a cup. (Well, I thought about doing that.)</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> # # #</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Then came this morning. After yesterday's bumpy - not to say grumpy - start, I was determined to be well organized, on-task and on time. Places to go, people to see, etc.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I was in the shower (more or less on time after two really good cups of tea) and humming with satisfaction at how smoothly the day had begun.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">"Not so fast", says the imp assigned to our address.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Is that the phone I hear ringing?</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">"Marsha, you're wanted on the phone."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I thought to myself, "What, exactly, am I supposed to do about it right this second?" But the LOC only hears me half the time when I am standing right next to him, so there is no point in shouting this through the bathroom door.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I jumped out of the shower, dried off and robed quickly, and asked "What?" As if the phone call were his planned interruption to my little humming episode. He is "0h-for-two" these two mornings.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">He said M. called and would I call her back right away.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Made the call and learned she has the flu-bug and could I fill-in for her today. I was glad to help, but so much for a smooth start.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">A few minutes later, as I went flying out the door, and peeling down the driveway, there stood the LOC, smiling and waving me off. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> # # #</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">They talk about grumpy and grumpier old men, and they even made a couple of movies about them, as I recall. But not many people have the strength of character to deal with a truly grumpy little old lady. Fortunately, I happen to be married to one - the Lovable Old Coot. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> # # #</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Hope you haven't had your caffeine supply cut off, or been called out of the shower, or just felt irritated at the stray hang nail or pinched toes - or whatever. But if you have, I hope someone showed you some patience today. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Until next time - your recently grumpy, but now recovered - little old lady blogger ~ Marsha</span><br />
(*Lovable Old Coot)Marsha Younghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05880659808422182525noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6624281955555099888.post-14512948831918316132015-10-17T12:25:00.000-07:002015-10-17T12:25:54.134-07:00Walking Away with Good Reason<span style="color: blue; font-size: large;">Progress is impossible without change, and those who cannot change their minds cannot change anything. </span><br />
<span style="color: blue; font-size: large;">~ George Bernard Shaw</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">A friend, and former colleague of mine, sent me an email the other day. He was requesting a professional reference from me, as his former boss.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I was surprised, not because such a request is unusual, but because I recalled that I had received a similar request from the same person a little over a year ago. And, as I recalled, he had gotten the job he was seeking, which was that of a mid-level manager in a sizable biotech company.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">So my surprise was that he had only "lasted" a year in the new position. I was assuming, incorrectly, that he had been let go, perhaps the victim of another downsizing.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">It turned out, however, that he left. Quit. Walked away.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">And I am proud of him for doing so.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">He ran into a corporate "drama", complete with all the usual intrigue, conflicts, and ultimately the strong suggestion that he "go along to get along." But what they were pressuring him to do was wrong, and he knew it. He decided instead to just go. Period.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">He said to me recently, "I am glad I was in a position to be able to walk away, rather than compromise my integrity." He was willing to deal with unemployment and the challenges that entails in order to walk away for the right reasons.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> # # #</span><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">An old Kenny Rogers song advises that we should "know when to hold 'em, know when to fold 'em"; but few of us seem to know when to do either.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Sometimes in life, we seem almost equally torn between "hanging on" in situations where it would be healthier to simply walk away, and walking away from challenges, when it would have been wise, and ultimately more beneficial, had we been able to hold on a little longer.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">What to do?</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">How to know whether to let go or hold on in any given situation?</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><em>Do I quit the job and walk away, or ignore the office politics and hold on awhile longer?</em></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><em></em></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><em>Do I sell the house now or settle down and deal with my dissatisfaction about it?</em></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><em></em></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><em>Do I invest more time and effort in a relationship or do I admit that I have done all I know to do and it is time to let it go?</em></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">The right answer for me may be the wrong answer for you. Sometimes we make unhealthy promises - to ourselves. For example, my mother was determined to work until she was sixty-five and then retire. In the two years before her sixty-fifth birthday, her work responsibilities increased dramatically, and not in a good way.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Additionally, during those two years, she had recurring bouts of dizziness, weakness in her right arm, and bronchitis. Finally, she was hospitalized with a serious bout of bronchial pneumonia.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I talked with her, more than once, during that time urging her to retire rather than wait. After the pneumonia episode, her own doctor spoke with her about the fact that she was pushing herself too hard, and perhaps should consider retiring. She refused.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">She had saved and planned well, so it was not really about finances. It was that she could not or would not change her mind. She had made herself a promise that she was going to work until she was sixty-five and <em>then</em> retire.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">It didn't work out that way. One month before her sixty-fifth birthday she suffered a major stroke and was left with a paralyzed right arm and right leg. The last seventeen years of her life, instead of playing piano, working in her rose garden, and doing things she loved, she spent dealing with life as a hemiplegic.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">There is a difference between honoring a promise - even to oneself - and clinging stubbornly to an idea or stance we have taken that no longer makes any sense.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">We all make promises and commitments which we plan to keep. And in most cases we should do everything within our power to honor those promises. But sometimes ... yes, sometimes, we need to admit that we must walk away. Not out of negligence, or indifference, but because it is the right thing, the wiser thing to do.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> # # #</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Hope you are in a healthy place today, with good choices all around you. But if you need to walk away - I encourage you to do it with your head high and your heart full of hope. Until next time - your fellow traveler ~ Marsha</span>Marsha Younghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05880659808422182525noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6624281955555099888.post-70004652372737359382015-10-14T20:28:00.000-07:002015-10-17T11:17:35.777-07:00The Mugo Bit the Dust<span style="font-size: large;">The drought continues to plague Northern California. Our lakes are down to one-third of normal, our lawns are dead, and in a clear example of "the law of unintended consequences", many of our trees are dying, too. I recently read an article stating that as many as five thousand mature trees in a nearby town are dead or dying.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Five thousand! And some of them are over two hundred years old.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">The governor said "cut water use by 25%" and many of us did, that and more. Some people went nuts, though, and just turned off all their outside water and said, "Phooey with it. I'll just wait until the drought is over and <em>then</em> I'll water things again."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Allowing a lawn to dry up and die is one thing. It can be brought back in a matter of months. But allowing trees that are hundreds of years old to die, when the drought is "only" four years old is pretty short-sighted. Now they are urging us to "water your trees." </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">You don't say.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">The weather gurus are predicting an El Nino winter, often meaning pouring rain for months on end. By next spring, my dead lawn may look like a putting green for all I know. (Well, I can hope, can't I?)</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">But those dead trees ... well, I won't see their replacements grow up, and neither will my children or their great - great - great grandchildren. Stupid. And sad. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> # # #</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">How often in life do we set something in motion that creates results or develops consequences which we simply did not foresee? The "law of unintended consequences" is alive and operational on many levels.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Proverbs tells us that a "word fitly spoken is like apples of silver or pictures of gold". But what about the words hastily spoken in anger or cruelty that create bitterness and harbor rancor for years to come, lasting sometimes even from generation to generation? (Think Hatfields and McCoys.)</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> # # #</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">We planted a small mugo (pronounced mew-go) pine almost four years ago. It was a little decorative tree, only three feet tall, but completely symmetrically round, and which generally grows only one or two inches each year. It is a prized plant for specific spots where you want a visual impact, but limited growth.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I watered it faithfully, and then when we were placed on water-rationing, I watered it as often as I was allowed to do. Three times per week for fifteen minutes each time. We have very hot summers here in the Sierra Nevada foothills, and around August it began to look pretty pitiful. I hand carried extra water in a watering can to it.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I mulched around the base of that little mugo. I pinched off the dead bits, in the hopes that it wouldn't waste it's water trying to feed dead stuff. All in vain. It died. Four years of pampering down the old drought-drain.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">But only four years.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">What of a lifetime wasted in dry barren regret? What have we done to address the consequences we may have caused however unintentionally?</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I hope El Nino comes. Oh, how I how and pray that it does.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">But more importantly, I hope I am learning to carefully address those barren places in my life, where bitterness and resentment stifle growth. There are many healthy mugo pines - somewhere. It can be replaced, replanted.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">But we only have one life to live. Let's work on watering hope, irrigating dreams and splashing a little happiness around whenever we can. What do you say?</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> # # #</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Hope you are wading in creeks of cheer, and lakes of laughter in your life this evening. But if you have "hit a dry patch" - try to do something about it, sooner rather than later. You have seldom seen anything sadder than a dead mugo. But dry regrets over unintended consequences are pretty sad, too.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Until next time, your drought-stricken, but still watering where allowed, neighborhood gardener ~ Marsha</span>Marsha Younghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05880659808422182525noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6624281955555099888.post-2371193426535754292015-10-05T15:53:00.001-07:002015-10-05T15:53:07.691-07:00Waiting for the Rat to Die<span style="font-size: large;">Now before you go all aghast on me, I am not referring to a person, or at least not any one specific person. The title of this post refers to a quote from a book I am currently reading by John Ortberg.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">The book is entitled <em>Everybody's Normal Till You Get to Know Them. </em>And isn't that just the truth? I have said for years that every family has a nutty Aunt Sally or a Crazy Uncle Harry. Some of us have - or have had - several, not just one or two.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">When speaking to an audience about family dynamics, I have often used the saying (I do not recall the source): <em>Four out of five families are dysfunctional ... and the other one doesn't work very well.</em></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> And isn't that just the truth? ( It also sounds a little like a Yogi Berra saying, doesn't it?)</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">So, while reading the aforementioned book, I ran across an older quote from Anne Lamott in her signature book <em>Traveling Mercies</em>. I had read Lamott's book many years ago, but had forgotten this </span><span style="font-size: large;">pointed statement. She wrote: "</span><span style="font-size: large;"><em><strong>In fact, not forgiving is like drinking rat poison and waiting for the rat to die."</strong></em></span><br />
<em><span style="font-size: large;"></span></em><br />
<em><span style="font-size: large;"> # # #</span></em><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">For many of us, forgiveness is something we crave for ourselves, but are reluctant to give to others. But God says it works just the opposite of this. It is only <u>as</u> we forgive others, that we ourselves are eligible for divine forgiveness.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">"Forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us" - that is a non-negotiable truth. Straight from the mouth of the One who had the most to forgive, and nothing to be forgiven for, and yet offered each of us forgiveness freely. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Some people refuse to even contemplate forgiving someone who has hurt them deeply, taking the position that:</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">a) they aren't sorry for what they did to me,</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">b) they haven't apologized,</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">c) they haven't asked for my forgiveness.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">While a, b, and c may be true, this is still not grounds for refusing to forgive. How many of us are drinking rat poison and waiting for the rat to die?</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Remember the old Rolling Stones song, "sometimes you're the bug, sometimes you're windshield'? Yes, well, sometimes I'm the rat, and sometimes I'm just waiting for the other rat to die. You know what I mean?</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Waiting for the rat to die can be dangerous. Sometimes the rat outlives us. C.S. Lewis said once that he had only recently forgiven someone who had been dead for thirty years! Yikes.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> # # #</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Hope there is no stray bottle of rat poison (unforgiveness) in your life-cupboard today; but if you spot one, throw it out! I beseech you, as one who has, upon occasion, partaken of the poison and lived (and been forgiven) to tell the tale. You will be glad you did. Until next time, your fellow traveler ~ Marsha</span>Marsha Younghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05880659808422182525noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6624281955555099888.post-76043484192439427882015-09-19T22:25:00.001-07:002015-09-19T22:25:49.563-07:00Cruising Toward Contentment<span style="font-size: large;">I have been absent for a bit, not because I did not think of you, but because I have been "out of touch". Such a quaint phrase. It used to simply mean that one did not have the thread of the current situation.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Now, in this day of 24/7 connectivity, it generally implies that one has been disconnected from social media and ordinary contact. It is difficult to find a place on the planet that is cut-off from such communication, but we managed. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">We spent the past eight days aboard a cruise ship, and while Wi-Fi was available, the cost was so ridiculous that we stoutly abstained from using it for the duration of the trip. You could send a student to university for an entire year for what one week's worth of connectivity would set you back on that overgrown dinghy. Okay, so that is hyperbole, but not by a whole lot.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I somewhat enjoyed the "unplugged" experience. But the *LOC was pretty twitchy, and it took him the first three days to realize that he could <em>not</em> reprogram the remote for the TV. Then, to add insult to injury, he discovered that four of the ten measly, pre-set, channels were sales pitches from the cruise line, run on a continuous loop, and, well, I had to exit the cabin while he regained control of his attitude.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Frankly, we have been wined and dined - ad infinitum ad nauseum - such that I have sworn off of all sauces, gravy, drizzles, and toppings for the <em>rest of my natural life.</em> I kid you not. I am now permanently topped off.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Furthermore, I have made the intimate acquaintance of people I had no wish to know. You cannot remain strangers when twenty plus members of humanity are crammed into one glass-encased elevator.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">The invasion of my personal space was annoying enough; but inevitably one of my fellow "crammees" thought they should attempt to tell me their life story in the three point two seconds it took to rise from Deck X to Deck Y.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">These mini-bios were generally routine, but occasionally turned terrifyingly bizarre. In such moments I was faced with the stark reality that there was no place to run. Land was a distant memory and the experience at sea was not proving to be particularly rewarding. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> # # #</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">We do have perfectly sane friends who have taken quite a number of cruises and generally report their experience was wonderful.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Good for them.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">We were asked, not infrequently, if this was our first cruise. (I do not know if we were giving off some oddly confused vibe or not, but it is entirely possible, as I was admittedly disoriented much of the time.)</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Whenever we admitted that it was, indeed, our first cruise, we were treated to titters and smirks as though the group had just unwittingly stumbled across the proverbial "40-year old virgin."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> # # #</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">We have concluded that we are just not cruise people. We do not cruise. It just isn't for us.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">For us, the whole "a sailing we shall go" thing was a "one and done." </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">So last evening we heaved two, simultaneous, huge sighs of blessed relief. We were home. The floor was firm beneath our tread. The windows could all be flung wide open. And our respective recliners were right where we had left them. Hooray!</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">We do not begrudge those who love to cruise their fun. We, however, have cruised right into our very own little safe harbor. And we are content.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> # # #</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Hope your harbor is peaceful this evening. Until next time, your fellow traveler (but not your fellow sailor) ~ Marsha</span><br />
(*Lovable Old Coot)Marsha Younghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05880659808422182525noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6624281955555099888.post-18191603037045416742015-09-06T18:15:00.002-07:002015-09-06T18:15:15.578-07:00Healthy - Happy - and only mildly irrirated <span style="font-size: large;">The phone rang - shrilly, as it always seems to do. I do not know why, with all our advanced technology, we cannot seem to invent a less annoying ring. After all, my mobile phone allows me to choose from among numerous jaunty little ditties, but the landline still sounds too much like a dental drill. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">It was the local pharmacy, the one closest to our house, calling to let my husband know that his flu shot was available. He should "please come in as soon as possible" and they would be waiting for him with a smile ... and a needle, obviously.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Further, in recognition of his <strike>advanced </strike>... er, eh, that is, at this season of his life, they would graciously set aside for him a "high dose" flu shot. Well, bless their little pointy heads.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Not my idea of an appealing invitation; but still I was bemused. Only a few years ago ,we used to call ahead to schedule flu shots with the doctor. That call - <em>from</em> us <em>to</em> them - was treated with a patience that seemed a little strained; but I always tried to bear in mind that at this season of the year they were probably getting about a kajillion such calls every hour.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> # # #</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">When flu shots first became readily available, I bravely stuck my arm out to be jabbed and felt pretty virtuous being so proactive.(Sure it is routine - but for someone who is needle-phobic it is the equivalent of putting my arm into a steel trap.... well, almost.)</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">There was a bit of a problem, though, back in the day. They were using live viruses and for the hyper-sensitive types it could produce mild, "flu-like", symptoms. Maybe ... perhaps.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Baloney! About twenty-four hours after taking that first flu injection, I began to ache all over, ran a fever for two days, and generally felt miserable for about three or four days. So I prudently avoided flu-shots for years. Fool me once, shame on you - fool me twice, shame on me. Uh, huh.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> # # #</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">That was, of course, a few decades ago and they haven't used live viruses in flu vaccines since the first Bush was in the White House.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Then came the era, wherein I was working for a health care company and they stronnnnggly encouraged (read: put the pressure on you <em>and </em>your supervisor, if you dawdled on this) every one who worked there to get their flu shot! Sooner rather than later - as in now - today. And no appointment was necessary. Alright, already.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">At the time, the *LOC and I were members of the largest HMO in California, and no, they were not the evil spawn of Satan. We got excellent care there for over twenty years. No complaints at all.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Well, except for the teeny-tiny little thing about getting a flu shot. First, it was true that there were no appointments - you simply lined up around a building the size of an ocean liner, and slowly shuffled forward until you reached an interior hallway. There, it turned out, was also a line, which extended up one hallway and down another, until you had circumnavigated the entire building from the inside.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">While lapping the perimeter, they had cunningly set up various "stations" where you could a) fill out questionnaires about your health status, b) disclose whether you had ever experienced a "negative reaction to a flu shot" - oh, just wait until I reached a live human being - and c) peruse cheery little reminders that unless you had <em>both</em> a photo ID and your insurance card, you would not, they deeply regretted to have to inform you, be eligible to receive your very own jab. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Well, darn.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I could not help but wonder whether some people were so thrilled to obtain their very own pin prick, that they were dressing up, disguised as someone else, and going through the line more than once? Really? Photo ID?</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> # # #</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">One year the nurse said to me, "You sure look different in person than in that photo."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I didn't know whether to thank her or smack her.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Another year, after a quick and nearly painless poke, the nurse commented, "Oh, so you're a bleeder. Guess we'd better use a little bigger band aid." (Thank you?)</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">On another occasion a male nurse asked if I was ok, as I limped forward to take my turn.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I nearly responded, "Well, not too bad considering I just spent the last hour and fifteen minutes standing around on a concrete sidewalk, waiting for the privilege of making your acquaintance. No, you dolt, my feet hurt!"</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">But I refrained.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> # # #</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Thus, you can only imagine my surprise, nay, my utter astonishment that no longer must one line up, fill out forms, and take a number. One does not even have to bother to call ahead. Au contraire, they will initiate said call and charmingly induce you to come on down to where they will be waiting for you.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">There was only one small glitch - the *LOC had already gotten his shot two days earlier. At that very same place! </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Guess their left-hand doesn't know what their right-hand is doing. So believe you me, when I go down there this week to get my flu shot, I am going to be watching them. They might try to give me a shot in both arms - just to be on the safe side.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> # # #</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Hope no one jabs you in the wrong spot this week. Until next time, I'll be the one in line right behind you~ Marsha</span><br />
(*Lovable Old Coot)<span style="font-size: large;"> </span>Marsha Younghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05880659808422182525noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6624281955555099888.post-8649802948971787762015-09-03T14:50:00.002-07:002015-09-03T17:37:44.632-07:00Garments of Joy !<span style="font-size: large;">Last week we took an elderly minister to a neighboring town for a couple of doctor's appointments. He was unable to drive due to some medical issues he had been having, although as he stoutly assured us, it had nothing to do with the fact that he was 84!</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Well, of course not.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">While we were sitting in the pleasantly appointed waiting room I looked around enjoying the good landscape reproductions on the walls, the well-tended real plants (none of those odious plastic things in this upscale establishment, thank you very much) and the general air of good taste.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">That is, unless I allowed my eyes to dwell upon the patients coming and going through the main lobby. What were these people thinking?</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Most of the jeans had holes in the knees - at a minimum - and some seemed to be absolutely shredded from the thighs to the knees. More than one fellow had on some kind of T-shirt, baggy shorts, and flip-flops, while the women seemed to have lost their elan' altogether. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">More than one lady had apparently dashed out the door in such a hurry to be treated that she had donned her knit top inside-out. Why else would seams be on the outside of the garment?</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I almost felt sorry for those who had forgotten to button their shirts; but at least they had worn some kind of undershirt that was almost covering their, ahem ... their upper torso.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I suppose they could not help it, if they could not afford an iron, but one had to ask oneself whether, at least, they could have mended the rips and tears in their outfits before dashing off to the doctor's office. Just wondering.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Never being one to keep my opinions strictly to myself, I leaned over and whispered to the *LOC, "Did these folks all just fall out of bed and come straight over here, do you suppose?"</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">"What do you mean?" he asked, clueless and with very little interest. He was engrossed in his book.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">"Well, I mean they all either look like they just got out of bed and didn't bother to put on something besides what they slept in, or they came here directly from working out at the gym. I'm sorry, but they look a little tacky to me."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">"Marsha", he said with a weary air "It is summer, and it is hot. Not everyone feels the need to dress like they are going to a tea."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Now I was wearing simple slacks, a decent blouse (ironed) and sandals. Trust me, I have never "gone to tea" dressed like <em>that </em>in my entire life!</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">But I knew what he was implying, so I replied, archly, "Well, this is just the way I was raised."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">"Yes, but that was a hundred years ago."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I have to admit, I had to laugh. This is the guy that is usually telling me that I look at least twenty years younger than my real age; so I knew he really was saying "Jiggs, mind your own business."</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">He had a point.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> # # #</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">About forty-five minutes later, we had returned to the car as our passenger had appeared in the lobby and was about ready to leave. We thought we would get the car started and have the air-conditioning going by the time he made it through the lobby, down the steps, across the side walk, and into the parking lot.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">A few minutes later we watched as our older friend attempted to open the door of a nearby vehicle, of a similar color and make as our own, parked about two spaces from us. The lady in the driver's seat, who had just started her engine looked quite startled, I must say.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">The LOC jumped out of our car and called out, "We're over here."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">That saintly old man snatched his hand back from the car door handle as though he had been scalded, and as quickly as his mobility allowed, scuttled over to us and got in.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">"Whew. That could have been really embarrassing. I thought that lady was <em>you</em>, Marsha."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I looked over at her again, and just began to chuckle to myself. She was at least twenty years younger than I am, and was not much more than oh.... well, let's just say she was a tad thin, and I am not.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I might have been complimented, except for one thing. The appointment he had just come from was with the <em>eye doctor</em>!</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> # # #</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Times change, don't they? Fashions are nothing like the ones I was raised with, and no one wants to listen to me get snippy about how standards have fallen. Particularly not the LOC.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">And this little incident reminded me that what we wear on the outside matters very little. However, what we wear around our spirits, what we choose to wrap our hearts in, now that is another matter altogether.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">If we choose, He will give us "garments of joy"(Psalm 30:11) and those are much better than anything a tailor or seamstress in this world can ever come up with. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> # # #</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Hope your Labor Day weekend is healthy, happy, and not too hot.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Until next time - your old-fashioned, but smiling fellow traveler ~ Marsha</span><br />
(*Lovable Old Coot)<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> </span>Marsha Younghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05880659808422182525noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6624281955555099888.post-28010770294853569442015-08-26T12:33:00.000-07:002015-08-26T12:33:41.900-07:00 A happy goodbye <span style="font-size: large;">So far, it has been a productive day. I sent the minutes of a recent meeting to all concerned. I wrote a few pages of a manuscript I have been slogging along on. </span><span style="font-size: large;">The house is in fairly decent shape, so no need to scurry around on that just now.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">So I popped over to check emails, and there it was ... a message I had been half-expecting for nearly a week. She is gone, for now. </span><span style="font-size: large;">My friend and fellow laborer in Christ has been called home. And good for her! I am happy for her, really I am.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">She had been ill for some months now, and she hated being dependent upon anyone, except Jesus. She insisted upon still attending committee meetings, even after her lungs could no longer give her all she needed; she lugged her little oxygen tank up the steps to the second story conference room where we had always met. Our leader was perfectly willing to move downstairs to make it a little easier on her, but no, she said she was getting along just fine, thanks.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Her smile, and jokey - poke you with a stick - repartee' were one of the first things that greeted me when I joined this group of women a few years ago to work with them in women's Bible classes here at my local church.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">She was not your typical "little church lady" - she was feisty and she could be tart. She brooked no nonsense and she definitely did not suffer fools gladly. I liked her so much.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">So I write this happy goodbye with tears in my eyes. So glad for her, but cannot help but be sad for her family who will miss her so much. And yes, sad for those of us who only knew her for awhile, but observed how she served faithfully, without complaint (okay, maybe a little griping once in a while, but very little) and was an encouragement to others.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Here is the thing I will remember about Effie - she was real. A real believer, a real helper, a real worker, a real <em>person</em> - who really loved the Lord.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">So as He bids you "welcome home" the rest of us offer you our very best efforts at a happy goodbye. Please excuse our sniffling. I know you had no use for snifflers.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> # # #</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Hope your week is full of happy hellos. Until next time ~ Marsha</span>Marsha Younghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05880659808422182525noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6624281955555099888.post-39489940710828212482015-08-18T21:55:00.001-07:002015-08-18T21:55:33.809-07:00Adventures in Reclining<span style="font-size: large;">As I mentioned in the prior post, the LOC* recently decided that his recliner had done its duty by him, and he was ready to let it go retire in the great living room in the sky.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">It was not that it was exactly old and worn out; as it was less than five years old, and I had had it regularly professionally steam cleaned. No, </span><span style="font-size: large;">rather it was no longer quite as comfy/cozy as he wished it to be. He may think the same thing about me, but I have not yet decided whether to put the question to him. Frankly, I am not sure I really want to know.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">The soon-to-be-donated chair had lots of features, to be sure. It vibrated, it heated up, it rocked and of course, it reclined. But it had lost "that lovin' feeling" - it no longer offered that lofty, plush for the tush. Ask me if this guy is spoiled rotten.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> # # #</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">So we betook ourselves to a couple of furniture stores and ended up at the national chain mostly known for whiz-bang, hot-dog, can't live without 'em <em>recliners.</em></span><br />
<em><span style="font-size: large;"></span></em><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Times had changed, however, and the model that once made my husband's heart go pitter-pat was no longer in vogue. Yep, sounds familiar. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">The massage feature, with which he formerly soothed his tired legs and back (or backside) was no longer available. At least not in the color he liked, in the fabric he wanted, in the size he preferred, in combination with the power features he desired.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Oh, please. We are not talking rocket science here; it is a chair for crying out loud. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Finally, he located one that was not too hard, and not too soft, and while it was not necessarily "jussssst riiight" it was apparently as close as he was going to get - so Goldilocks ponied up an amount of money that was more than we paid for a car in years past.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">A date was set for the great delivery, and we anxiously awaited the new addition to the family. It came, it went, and the LOC still had no chair. Oh, they brought us one; but it didn't work. We were told that this virtually never happens, but it did. The thing did not go together properly; so they used a little muscled persuasion. Finally he sat in it and tried to recline, and it nearly threw him into the next room. Not good.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">So they asked us to sign an affidavit, or some such document, attesting that they had attempted delivery, but that we had declined to accept the product as presented. ( I guess they had to be able to prove that they actually drove the delivery van up the hill and tried to give us the darned thing, rather than having their supervisor think they had been lolling at the lake all afternoon.)</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> It was, alas they admitted, a manufacturer's defect. Just our luck. But the good news was that it would only be another week, before they could bring a replacement. Great.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> # # #</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Well, it finally arrived and now sits in all its glory, with its LED lit power-button device always at the ready. It has a power back, a power seat, and a power-foot rest, all of which operate independently of one another.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Oh, and it also boasts a power-lumbar adjustment feature (don't I just wish I had one of those - not the chair, but on <em>me</em>) and a power-headrest. Seriously? A power <em>headrest</em>? Yes.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">The LOC used to wrestle a faded blue pillow into this and that shape until he got it just right behind his head. No more. Now with a flick of the switch, the whole hot-dog headrest hums forward and backward -oooh, ooh, another inch forward, no, noooo, just a half-inch back - ahhhh - that's it!</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">So for just the cost of a small yacht, I am able to discard a worn pillow purchased at K-Mart for $12.99. What a deal!</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Of course, this whole acquisition has not been without its challenges, for the poor unfortunate LOC. As he sits royally humming his back forward, and his head backward, and his lower limbs up and down, he gazes over toward me in my - wait for it - my plain Jane recliner and asks archly, "Honey, does it took to you like my feet are higher than my heart?"</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I was uncertain as to whether this was something to be avoided or a greatly-to-be-desired result. Thus, I was n</span><span style="font-size: large;">ot sure how to respond to that question. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">"You would know better than I", I say with feigned interest.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">But one thing I do know, the cost was certainly higher-than common sense would indicate was necessary. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Oh well, what is our life, but a vapor that appears for a little while and then vanishes? Right? At least when his time comes to disappear, he will have known the thrill of a really good recliner. You cannot ask for a whole lot more; and at our time of life, it will have to be enough.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> # # #</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Hope you have a comfy place to recline this evening. Until next time - Marsha</span><br />
(*Lovable Old Coot )Marsha Younghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05880659808422182525noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6624281955555099888.post-38039102674629524262015-08-15T19:41:00.000-07:002015-08-15T19:41:02.932-07:00The Whining Old Gray Mare <span style="font-size: large;">While I am often a practical realist, there are times when I have deluded myself into thinking I am still thirty ... or forty ... or well, you get the idea.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">This week has been a foot race, and now my feet hurt.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">We had a call to go to a friend's home to meet a repairman for them, because they had to work. (When you are retired, some people assume you have nothing </span><span style="font-size: large;">to do....just saying.)</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">We had unexpected overnight company. He called a few hours before arriving asking if it would be ok to "crash at our place" for the night. What could we say?</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">He's a nice young man, but unbeknownst to him, we already had company coming the following day, so now it was to be back-to-back guests, with no time to recoup in between.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Sheets to be laundered, the roof to be polished, the garage to be mopped, sidewalks to vacuum. (Sort of joking.)</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Then another friend called from out of state, to say the local water company had called them to tell them to check for a leak here at their home. Around here the drought is so bad we save saliva, and use spit to water our favorite plants. Everything else has already bitten the dust. So off went the LOC* to check on their forbidden water waste. ( I hope the "spring in his step" was not because I was left to do the polishing and shining without his participation.)</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Then I attended a meeting wherein I am the "minute taker" - and my minutes were in short supply this week.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Then we had guests for dinner - roast beast with alllll the fixin's. By now I was seriously limping. But oh how we laughed at the tales our guest from overseas regaled us with. (I know my modifier is dangling and I am too tired to care.)</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Finally, phone calls, emails, and to-do lists for a family event that I am in the midst of planning.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Here was the result of all that hectivity. Yesterday, I could hardly get up out of my recliner. But at least I <em>had</em> a recliner. Thank heavens for small mercies. Earlier this month the LOC's recliner had given out, was disposed of, and the new one had not yet been delivered. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Thus, I was without a chair for two weeks, as I <em>graciously</em> loaned him mine. (Graciousness can be faked for two weeks, I have discovered. Beyond that, I may have been tempted to kick him to the curb, or forced to flop onto his lap. Either would have been difficult, but I was getting desperate for a comfortable place to sit.)</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> # # #</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">So here is my plan for tomorrow - Sunday. I am going to rest - and rest - and rest - and thank the Lord that, in all His wisdom, He thought to create a special "day of rest" for those of us who do not always have sense enough to pace ourselves.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Of course, that could be because it has temporarily slipped what used to pass for my mind that I am <em>not as young as I used to be. </em></span><br />
<em><span style="font-size: large;"> # # #</span></em><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Hope you are resting comfortably this evening and that tomorrow offers you more of the same. I am shuffling over to my reclaimed recliner where I shall be for the next day, except for a brief trip to church in the morning. <em> Have a wonderful day of rest - until next time . Your not-so-young gray filly - Marsha</em></span><br />
<em><strong>*LOC</strong> (Lovable Old Coot - to whom I am married)</em>Marsha Younghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05880659808422182525noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6624281955555099888.post-15024164514410023512015-08-11T09:05:00.000-07:002015-08-11T09:17:49.600-07:00A Circle of Quiet<span style="font-size: large;">We live in a noisy world. This is not "new information" I realize. However, I am lately more and more aware of how clamorous our world has become.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Was it always like this and I have, perhaps, only become more sensitive to it of late? I doubt it.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I recall afternoons walking along tree shaded sidewalks, listening to the birds chirp; occasionally the hum of a bee would make its way into my consciousness. It was a serene experience; one which I savored.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Try finding a quiet sidewalk these days. Horns honk, people shout at one another. We go into a restaurant to enjoy a bite to eat, and conversation is pretty much drowned out by the various TV screens all around the place. And, no, this is not a sports bar, but a family restaurant that we formerly enjoyed in peace. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Management only installed the TVs last year. </span><span style="font-size: large;">Why, I do not know, given that every second person in the place is busy texting, tweeting, or watching something on the tiny screens with which they are so engrossed. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> # # #</span><br />
<span style="color: blue; font-size: large;">How blessed the man you train, God, the woman you instruct in your Word. <em>Providing a circle of quiet</em> within the clamor ...</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: blue;">Psalm 94: 12-13</span> (MSG)</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">God gave us the gift of hearing as one of the five wonderful senses through which we experience the world. Who would want to miss a baby's chuckling laugh? A Beethoven symphony? Or a snappy jazz riff, for that matter? </span><span style="font-size: large;">Personally, I like the sound of a good solid<em> thwack</em> when Buster Posey hits another home run. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">In my corporate days we actually paid a service to provide "white noise" throughout our offices; a kind of muffled sushing sound that swept perpetually through the hallways and cubicles, the conference rooms and executive suites. This was in addition to the "elevator music" piped ubiquitously throughout. The music and white noise were a subliminal duet meant to soothe our pressured psyches, I suppose.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Heaven forbid we should actually have silence.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I love the fact that God is willing to provide us with a circle of quiet amid the raucous, jolting, cacophony of today's society. A quiet place in which to reflect, meditate, pray, or just think a thought or two.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">A circle of quiet ... it reminds me of an old song we used to sing once in awhile. I do not recall the author, but it went something like - </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><em>There's a place, filled with grace</em></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><em>I can see my Savior's face,</em></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><em>Within the circle of his love.</em></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><em></em></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><em>There I find,</em></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><em>Peace of mind,</em></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><em>I'm so happy all the time</em></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><em>Within the circle of his love.</em></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> # # #</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Hope you have a fine moment or two today within a "circle of quiet" with Him. Until next time ~ Marsha</span>Marsha Younghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05880659808422182525noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6624281955555099888.post-17653906578918315232015-08-03T05:41:00.001-07:002015-08-03T05:41:21.670-07:00AWWWWkward !!<span style="font-size: large;">Victims of technology ... we alllll know what that feels like.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Or if you do not, yet, you will sooner or later.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">This week we have been struck, assaulted, as it were. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">No, it was not the massive decline of the Dow Jones, while experts watched helplessly for hours trying to figure out what was wrong with the stock market, while it fell three hundred and fifty points, before they shut it down. Our own 401(k)s held hostage right along with those of everyone else.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Oh, no. It was not that.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">No, we were not standing in one of the endless lines at an airline counter, trying to rebook a flight, while the entire airline's network collapsed, and no one could figure out why.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">But that's okay, because, after all, they apologized for "<em>any </em>inconvenience." They are such polite numbskulls, aren't they?</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Why what could be inconvenient about missing family events like a wedding or a graduation? Or perhaps, sleeping on a filthy boarding area carpet all night, or a hundred and one other indignities, while they tried to figure out why <em>their own systems</em> were backfiring.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Oh, no. It was not that.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> # # # # #</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">No, here at the old scatter, the LOC was proudly in possession of a brand new, handy-dandy, <em>voice-activated</em> entertainment system remote device.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">And thus, our very own personal technological nightmare began. Although civilization did not come to a end, our union was a near thing there for a few hours.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">They are known, actually, as recurring nightmares around here. That is because each time one of us buys a new thinga-majig, or orders a new whatcha-ma-callit, we have this whole terrifying experience to try to survive.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">This one was worse than most. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-size: large;">He is, or so he claims, both an intuitive and a tactile tech user.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Really?</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Translated, this means a) he does not need to read the manual - why waste the time, when you have intuition on your side? - and b) it means he is going to continue to push buttons until something does what he thinks it is supposed to do.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Meanwhile, chaos ensued.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> # # # # #</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">He located the "listening" button on the new remote, right away, which I must say is more than I have ever been easily able to locate on<i> him</i>. Just saying ...</span><br />
<br />
He already knew the command menus by heart, so he began to speak his truth to this life-aid, without which, the makers tell us we will soon not know how we ever survived. Yes, well, we may not survive with it, either.<br />
<br />
"Forward" - he said authoritatively - as it told us it was listening carefully. <br />
<br />
<span style="color: purple;">Sorry, I didn't understand. (The VA -voice activated text on the screen displayed.)</span><br />
<span style="color: purple;"></span><br />
<span style="color: black;">Forrr-WARD!</span><br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: purple;"> Can you say that again, please?</span><br />
<br />
FORRR-WARRRRD.<br />
<br />
<span style="color: purple;"> Did you say Forward"?</span><br />
<br />
ARGHHHHHH !!!!<br />
<br />
And suddenly the DVR took off like a bat out of a hot cave. And it kept right on going.<br />
<br />
STOP - STOP - STOP ! (Shouted the *LOC, not the remote.)<br />
<br />
Honey, I said, trying to sound reasonable during the early going, "What button do you hit when it has gone as far forward as you want it to?"<br />
<br />
He glanced at me, clearly irritated, and said, "The play button, of course."<br />
<br />
"Well, you might try saying "Play" then. Just a thought.<br />
<br />
PLAY - he shouted at the device.<br />
<br />
Like magic, our program resumed, albeit about a half an hour ahead of where we wanted to be.<br />
<br />
He grimly, but manually, hit the rewind button for a few seconds and tried again.<br />
<br />
Holding the remote at arms length, and speaking directly to it, as thought it were hearing impaired, he stated emphatically, <br />
FORWARD.<br />
<br />
But our program disappeared altogether, and a new menu came into view, inviting us to select among several video selections.<br />
<br />
One appeared to be a streaming movie entitled "Awkward."<br />
<br />
<span style="color: purple;"> Awkward? </span> <br />
<br />
No, not awkward. FORRRRWAAARRRD !!!<br />
<br />
Meanwhile in an aside, he says to me conversationally, "Have you heard of a movie called Awkward?"<br />
<br />
No, and I don't want to. I'm living that movie. I'd like to watch the ballgame, thank you.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> # # #</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Eventually he figured out that he didn't need to shout, hold the dratted thing at arm's length, or exxxaggggerate his pronunciation.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-size: large;">At least that is he what he reported to me the following morning. I personally would not know, since I had long since gone to bed.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-size: large;">I had to read about the game in the next morning's newspaper sport section. So, we have come full circle - we may begin with a high-tech voice-activated device; but we will end by reading the information in a paper.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-size: large;">My current opinion of evolving - or devolving - high-technology is not printable. Fortunately, they are still printing newspapers. For now. I am told their days are numbered, however, so you may want to grab one while you still can.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> # # #</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Hope you are not being held hostage to a high-tech gadget this evening. If one is currently threatening your well-being, RUN !</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Until next time ~ your friendly neighborhood techno-peasant - and proud of it.</span><br />
*Lovable Old Coot<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span>Marsha Younghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05880659808422182525noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6624281955555099888.post-79001677477615991962015-07-07T22:30:00.001-07:002015-07-07T22:30:33.642-07:00Keeping Records ... Or Not<span style="font-size: large;">We are people who keep records, sometimes even when we don't need to. We make to-do lists, and we <em>follow up</em> on them!</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">We keep track of to whom we sent, and from whom we received, Christmas cards - for the last <em>ten years</em>.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">We keep diaries, maintain journals, record household budgets, and fill out planners which track doctors, dentists, hair cuts, and a dozen and one other appointments.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">We are folks who know how to keep records. And yet ... there are times when it is better if we do not.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> # # # # #</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">The gift we selected with real care and thoughtfulness about the recipient's favorite colors and style of decor; and for which we never received even a passing "thanks." How to overlook this?</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">The phone call we did receive, but which by the time it ended, we could not help but wish we had never picked up the receiver. The unkind words, the hurtful attitude. How to erase the pain?</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">The reward, or award, which we earned after hard work, genuine sacrifice, and obstacles overcome; but which went, nevertheless, to another. How to move past it?</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">The Apostle Paul wrote to the Corinthians a passage which came to be known as the "love chapter" of the New Testament. In it he instructs them that love "keeps no record of wrongs."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">In an entirely different kind of script, in one of my favorite baseball movies (<em>For The Love of the Game</em> with Kevin Costner) the star pitcher reminds himself of something his father always told him to do, when needing to clear his mind and adopt a clean slate before the next pitch: <em>Clear the mechanism</em>.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">If he was to play at his best, give all he had to give, he must first clear the mechanism.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">This meant letting go of any resentment over how the plate umpire may have called - or blown - the call on the previous pitch.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">It meant forgetting about any interpersonal issues he might have with other players on the field.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">It meant ignoring whatever physical pain he was enduring due to old, lingering injuries.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">It meant ignoring the crowd noise, whether jeers or cheers.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><em>Clear the mechanism</em>. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><em>Keep no record of wrongs</em>.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">It is certainly easier said than done. We nurse our wounds, we succor our pain, we avoid those who have hurt us. We do these things because we <em>are</em> keeping a record - when what we should be doing is clearing the mechanism.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> # # # # #</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Dear Lord, help me tonight to allow you to clear the mechanism that is my faulty record keeping. Help me to remember that I, too, have wounded others, overlooked a tenderly offered gift, spoken hasty words which caused another pain.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I want to perform to the best of my ability, give all I have to give. Help me to allow you to clear the mechanism.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Help me to keep no record of wrongs. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> # # # # #</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Hope you are in a good clear place this evening. But if, perchance, like mine, your mechanism could use a good clearing ... well, you know who to call on. Until next time, your flawed but thankful fellow traveler ~ Marsha</span>Marsha Younghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05880659808422182525noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6624281955555099888.post-65713382337321115512015-07-01T11:49:00.000-07:002015-07-01T11:49:07.798-07:00When the Earth Goes Topsy-Turvy<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: blue;">Psalm 75: 1 - 4</span> (an excerpt)</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="color: blue; font-size: large;"><em>We give thanks to you, O god, ... </em></span><br />
<span style="color: blue; font-size: large;"><em>You say, "I choose the appointed time; it is I who judge uprightly.</em></span><br />
<span style="color: blue; font-size: large;"><em>When the earth goes topsy-turvy and nobody knows which end is up, </em></span><span style="color: blue; font-size: large;"><em>I nail it all down again.</em></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><em><span style="color: blue;">I put everything in place again</span></em>. (The Message)</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> # # # </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Since beginning this blog over four years ago, I have rarely touched upon subjects which might be considered "controversial"; and I have done so intentionally.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">My intent has been that my blog be informational, encouraging, and even perhaps, upon occasion, inspirational. Additionally, I have always thought that a touch of humor would not be amiss, from time to time.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Today, however, there will be no humor, as I feel compelled to speak out upon a subject which may rankle some readers. If so, may I say that while I have no desire to offend anyone, I do deeply wish to support those who may be feeling discouraged and dismayed at the Supreme Court's ruling this past week on same-sex marriage, so greatly discussed in the news.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I don't want to re-hash old clichés such as "Love the sinner, hate the sin", etc. As to whether homosexual behavior <em>is</em> sin, I believe the Bible is clear on the subject. The word "abomination" is only found in scripture a very few times, but reference to this particular aberrant conduct is one of those times.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">However, neither is such conduct irredeemable nor unforgivable, as some seem to feel. The apostle Paul was clear, when he wrote to the Corinthians about the fact that some of them had been homosexuals when he stated "which some of you were" prior to their conversion to faith.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">What is fairly astonishing is the extent to which our own culture has completely reversed itself on this topic within a span of less than twenty years. It is truly hard to comprehend, unless we remember that the destruction of the family has always been one of Satan's primary objectives.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Some would say, but those who practice "alternative lifestyles" <em>are </em>forming families, either by raising their own biological children from prior relationships or by adopting in heretofore unprecedented</span><span style="font-size: large;"> numbers. I would opine that such cobbled together arrangements are not families, so much as now legally recognized households. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I have read psychological studies which maintain that children who are raised in "two mother" or "two father" households are more apt to grow up struggling with depression, social confusion, and a hampered ability to form healthy relationships of their own.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I am not saying that these same-sex parents are deliberately harming their children, because in most cases I do not think that is the case. However, none of us can redraw God's design for the family, super-impose our human will upon it, and expect that it will all turn out all right, as long as we have good intentions.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">We have all read where the road "paved with good intentions" leads to.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Beyond the societal impacts of the recognition of the so-called "rainbow coalition", there is an even broader impact upon those of us who truly believe in a God ordained plan for life, and who value the liberty of our personal freedoms.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">In his written dissent to the 5-4 decision, Justice Samuel Alioto wrote this:</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><em>"I assume that those who cling to the old beliefs will be able to whisper their thoughts in the recesses of their homes, but if they repeat those views in public, they will risk being labeled as bigots and treated as such by governments, employers, and schools."</em></span><br />
<em><span style="font-size: large;"></span></em><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">As Christians, we are not to be hate-mongers. However, neither are we to be gullible and foolish as to the implications of the changes taking place all over our country regarding this issue. Jesus meant what he said when he told us to be "wise as serpents and harmless as doves."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">It is not an easy path to walk, and we have sometimes made our own case worse by taking a stance in anger, holding an air of superiority and disdain. That is not helpful and we should not be surprised when such an attitude on our part, is met with nothing but scorn on the part of those with whom we so vigorously disagree.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">To disagree without being disagreeable is one of the toughest things in the world to do. But it can be done. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">When I was a very young woman, I recall reading about a elderly mother, with grown sons, who felt called to reach out specifically to those who had become entangled in a life of homosexuality or lesbianism. She met with them one-on-one, at coffee shops, or in meeting rooms across small tables for discussion, always listening carefully to their concerns, and praying with them (when they were willing to allow her to do so) that they would find God's will for their lives. She always reminded them that God loved them and had a plan for their lives.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">She was not famous. But her son, David Wilkerson, the author of <em>The Cross and The Switchblade</em>, certainly was. She was simply ahead of her time, and ahead of the curve.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> # # #</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">My pastor told us a few weeks ago that multiple surveys showed that between one and a half and three percent of the population of the United States self-identifies as homosexual. Those numbers have remained fairly constant since I first read such surveys over twenty-five years ago.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">In contrast, approximately seventy percent of adult Americans self-identify as "Christian" - not necessarily meaning that they are affiliated with any particular church or denomination; but simply that that is their own personal belief as to the nature of God and God's relationship to man.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">He then asked a stark question of us in the congregation.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><em>"Which group is having the most influence on our present world - the one and half to three percent, or the seventy percent?"</em></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Simply because the rainbow coalition is now shouting "loudly and proudly", just because they are having parades all over the land, does not make them right. It simply makes them more unashamedly misguided than ever before.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Will those of us who believe God still is in control conduct ourselves in a manner that reflects that conviction? I sincerely hope so. Even when the "earth goes topsy-turvy", we still serve a God who judges uprightly, and can, and will, put everything right again, at the time of His choosing.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I encourage each of us to pray for those who have been misled into these lifestyles, and to look to our own doorstep lest we condemn others without seeing our own faults. For the rest, let us take courage that God is still in control and do what we can, when we can, in as much love as we can.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Until next time, Marsha</span>Marsha Younghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05880659808422182525noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6624281955555099888.post-21719172460570372312015-06-24T12:15:00.001-07:002015-06-24T12:15:15.133-07:00How long ? At the Kalico Kitchen<span style="font-size: large;">We were down at the Kalico Kitchen, our favorite local eatery, the other day. We were celebrating being home, as we had just arrived the night before at around 9:00 p.m., exhausted. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Certainly it had been a good trip; but we were, nevertheless, glad to be home. Ahhhhhh..... yes, home again. Comfort.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">So there we sat, grinning, and ordering off our favorite menu. We must have been looking pretty slappy-happy, because our young waitress came over and said, "Can I ask you something?"</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">The LOC*, always amenable to any conversation whatsoever, said, "Sure."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> # # # # #</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Actually, once the conversation was underway, she had several questions after the first one. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">How long had we been married? </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Was it hard to stay married that long? </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Did we ever argue? (We both laughed pretty hard at that one.) How did we resolve a disagreement, when one arose? </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Was it worth the effort?</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">She was young, beautiful (and I don't mean just kind of - but truly, drop-dead gorgeous) and clearly in a quandary. She and her boyfriend had just been on a frustrating weekend trip, wherein very little had gone well; and upon arriving home, predictably (for those of us who have been around awhile) an argument ensued.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Thus, her questions.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> # # # # #</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Our answers: </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">- almost 27 years; </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">- yes, it was hard; </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">- yes - both of us laughing again - we definitely argued; </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">- we talked the issue through (or as the LOC would say, "talked it to death"); </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">- and yes, it was worth it.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">There were almost no customers in the place, as it was the dead time of the afternoon, so she returned to our booth in the corner, again and again.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> # # # # #</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">She is a member of the "millennial" generation; and from what I have read and heard, commitment is not a concept with which they easily come to grips. However, this young woman seemed genuinely interested in our views on "what it takes to stay in it for the long haul." It was her hope to do that, too.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> # # # # #</span><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">So we spoke with her about our own mistakes; and the fact that we married in mid-life (a second marriage for each of us) and we were pretty set in our ways, which created considerable challenges. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">As I have said before, we didn't just have "baggage" - we had "his and hers" storage units full of issues.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">We talked honestly about the hard work a long term relationship requires, the need for a sense of humor - especially when things go wrong - and finally a set of shared, and firmly held, values and a foundational faith. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">After a bit, she left to wait on another table. And as we sat there ruminating, I could not help but be surprised that it was us - <i>us</i> - sitting there talking about twenty-six, almost twenty-seven, shared years.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Where did the time go? Was it over a quarter of a century since I awoke to a picture of John Wayne with a black eye patch in True Grit persona, hanging in the bedroom of my new husband's home into which I had just moved; oh, and one of a moose hanging in the bathroom? I clearly remember not knowing whether to laugh or cry - and I did some of both.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Ours was a challenging beginning, and a sometimes difficult middle. But here we are, looking back while enjoying a contented third act. I truly cannot quite figure out how that happened; but I am grateful. God's grace truly knows no bounds.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">How long has it been? Well, the days may seem long when troubles are piled high, but the years really do fly by. And here we are, in safe harbor after all. We didn't know how long it would take, but we are glad we made the journey.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Hope you are in a safe and comforting place tonight. If so, we can be grateful together. Until next time, your grateful gardener ~ Marsha</span><br />
(* Lovable Old Coot)Marsha Younghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05880659808422182525noreply@blogger.com4