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. The house is in fairly decent shape, so no need to scurry around on that just now.
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. My friend and fellow laborer in Christ has been called home. And good for her! I am happy for her, really I am.
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.
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.
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.
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.
Here is the thing I will remember about Effie - she was real. A real believer, a real helper, a real worker, a real person - who really loved the Lord.
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.
# # #
Hope your week is full of happy hellos. Until next time ~ Marsha
Wednesday, August 26, 2015
Tuesday, August 18, 2015
Adventures in Reclining
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.
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, 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.
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.
# # #
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 recliners.
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.
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.
Oh, please. We are not talking rocket science here; it is a chair for crying out loud.
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.
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.
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.)
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.
# # #
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.
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 me) and a power-headrest. Seriously? A power headrest? Yes.
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!
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!
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?"
I was uncertain as to whether this was something to be avoided or a greatly-to-be-desired result. Thus, I was not sure how to respond to that question.
"You would know better than I", I say with feigned interest.
But one thing I do know, the cost was certainly higher-than common sense would indicate was necessary.
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.
# # #
Hope you have a comfy place to recline this evening. Until next time - Marsha
(*Lovable Old Coot )
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, 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.
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.
# # #
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 recliners.
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.
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.
Oh, please. We are not talking rocket science here; it is a chair for crying out loud.
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.
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.
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.)
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.
# # #
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.
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 me) and a power-headrest. Seriously? A power headrest? Yes.
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!
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!
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?"
I was uncertain as to whether this was something to be avoided or a greatly-to-be-desired result. Thus, I was not sure how to respond to that question.
"You would know better than I", I say with feigned interest.
But one thing I do know, the cost was certainly higher-than common sense would indicate was necessary.
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.
# # #
Hope you have a comfy place to recline this evening. Until next time - Marsha
(*Lovable Old Coot )
Saturday, August 15, 2015
The Whining Old Gray Mare
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.
This week has been a foot race, and now my feet hurt.
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 to do....just saying.)
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?
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.
Sheets to be laundered, the roof to be polished, the garage to be mopped, sidewalks to vacuum. (Sort of joking.)
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.)
Then I attended a meeting wherein I am the "minute taker" - and my minutes were in short supply this week.
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.)
Finally, phone calls, emails, and to-do lists for a family event that I am in the midst of planning.
Here was the result of all that hectivity. Yesterday, I could hardly get up out of my recliner. But at least I had 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.
Thus, I was without a chair for two weeks, as I graciously 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.)
# # #
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.
Of course, that could be because it has temporarily slipped what used to pass for my mind that I am not as young as I used to be.
# # #
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. Have a wonderful day of rest - until next time . Your not-so-young gray filly - Marsha
*LOC (Lovable Old Coot - to whom I am married)
This week has been a foot race, and now my feet hurt.
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 to do....just saying.)
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?
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.
Sheets to be laundered, the roof to be polished, the garage to be mopped, sidewalks to vacuum. (Sort of joking.)
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.)
Then I attended a meeting wherein I am the "minute taker" - and my minutes were in short supply this week.
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.)
Finally, phone calls, emails, and to-do lists for a family event that I am in the midst of planning.
Here was the result of all that hectivity. Yesterday, I could hardly get up out of my recliner. But at least I had 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.
Thus, I was without a chair for two weeks, as I graciously 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.)
# # #
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.
Of course, that could be because it has temporarily slipped what used to pass for my mind that I am not as young as I used to be.
# # #
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. Have a wonderful day of rest - until next time . Your not-so-young gray filly - Marsha
*LOC (Lovable Old Coot - to whom I am married)
Tuesday, August 11, 2015
A Circle of Quiet
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.
Was it always like this and I have, perhaps, only become more sensitive to it of late? I doubt it.
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.
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.
Management only installed the TVs last year. 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.
# # #
How blessed the man you train, God, the woman you instruct in your Word. Providing a circle of quiet within the clamor ...
Psalm 94: 12-13 (MSG)
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? Personally, I like the sound of a good solid thwack when Buster Posey hits another home run.
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.
Heaven forbid we should actually have silence.
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.
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 -
There's a place, filled with grace
I can see my Savior's face,
Within the circle of his love.
There I find,
Peace of mind,
I'm so happy all the time
Within the circle of his love.
# # #
Hope you have a fine moment or two today within a "circle of quiet" with Him. Until next time ~ Marsha
Was it always like this and I have, perhaps, only become more sensitive to it of late? I doubt it.
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.
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.
Management only installed the TVs last year. 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.
# # #
How blessed the man you train, God, the woman you instruct in your Word. Providing a circle of quiet within the clamor ...
Psalm 94: 12-13 (MSG)
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? Personally, I like the sound of a good solid thwack when Buster Posey hits another home run.
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.
Heaven forbid we should actually have silence.
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.
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 -
There's a place, filled with grace
I can see my Savior's face,
Within the circle of his love.
There I find,
Peace of mind,
I'm so happy all the time
Within the circle of his love.
# # #
Hope you have a fine moment or two today within a "circle of quiet" with Him. Until next time ~ Marsha
Monday, August 3, 2015
AWWWWkward !!
Victims of technology ... we alllll know what that feels like.
Or if you do not, yet, you will sooner or later.
This week we have been struck, assaulted, as it were.
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.
Oh, no. It was not that.
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.
But that's okay, because, after all, they apologized for "any inconvenience." They are such polite numbskulls, aren't they?
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 their own systems were backfiring.
Oh, no. It was not that.
# # # # #
No, here at the old scatter, the LOC was proudly in possession of a brand new, handy-dandy, voice-activated entertainment system remote device.
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.
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.
This one was worse than most.
He is, or so he claims, both an intuitive and a tactile tech user.
Really?
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.
Meanwhile, chaos ensued.
# # # # #
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 him. Just saying ...
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.
"Forward" - he said authoritatively - as it told us it was listening carefully.
Sorry, I didn't understand. (The VA -voice activated text on the screen displayed.)
Forrr-WARD!
Can you say that again, please?
FORRR-WARRRRD.
Did you say Forward"?
ARGHHHHHH !!!!
And suddenly the DVR took off like a bat out of a hot cave. And it kept right on going.
STOP - STOP - STOP ! (Shouted the *LOC, not the remote.)
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?"
He glanced at me, clearly irritated, and said, "The play button, of course."
"Well, you might try saying "Play" then. Just a thought.
PLAY - he shouted at the device.
Like magic, our program resumed, albeit about a half an hour ahead of where we wanted to be.
He grimly, but manually, hit the rewind button for a few seconds and tried again.
Holding the remote at arms length, and speaking directly to it, as thought it were hearing impaired, he stated emphatically,
FORWARD.
But our program disappeared altogether, and a new menu came into view, inviting us to select among several video selections.
One appeared to be a streaming movie entitled "Awkward."
Awkward?
No, not awkward. FORRRRWAAARRRD !!!
Meanwhile in an aside, he says to me conversationally, "Have you heard of a movie called Awkward?"
No, and I don't want to. I'm living that movie. I'd like to watch the ballgame, thank you.
# # #
Eventually he figured out that he didn't need to shout, hold the dratted thing at arm's length, or exxxaggggerate his pronunciation.
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.
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.
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.
# # #
Hope you are not being held hostage to a high-tech gadget this evening. If one is currently threatening your well-being, RUN !
Until next time ~ your friendly neighborhood techno-peasant - and proud of it.
*Lovable Old Coot
Or if you do not, yet, you will sooner or later.
This week we have been struck, assaulted, as it were.
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.
Oh, no. It was not that.
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.
But that's okay, because, after all, they apologized for "any inconvenience." They are such polite numbskulls, aren't they?
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 their own systems were backfiring.
Oh, no. It was not that.
# # # # #
No, here at the old scatter, the LOC was proudly in possession of a brand new, handy-dandy, voice-activated entertainment system remote device.
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.
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.
This one was worse than most.
He is, or so he claims, both an intuitive and a tactile tech user.
Really?
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.
Meanwhile, chaos ensued.
# # # # #
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 him. Just saying ...
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.
"Forward" - he said authoritatively - as it told us it was listening carefully.
Sorry, I didn't understand. (The VA -voice activated text on the screen displayed.)
Forrr-WARD!
Can you say that again, please?
FORRR-WARRRRD.
Did you say Forward"?
ARGHHHHHH !!!!
And suddenly the DVR took off like a bat out of a hot cave. And it kept right on going.
STOP - STOP - STOP ! (Shouted the *LOC, not the remote.)
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?"
He glanced at me, clearly irritated, and said, "The play button, of course."
"Well, you might try saying "Play" then. Just a thought.
PLAY - he shouted at the device.
Like magic, our program resumed, albeit about a half an hour ahead of where we wanted to be.
He grimly, but manually, hit the rewind button for a few seconds and tried again.
Holding the remote at arms length, and speaking directly to it, as thought it were hearing impaired, he stated emphatically,
FORWARD.
But our program disappeared altogether, and a new menu came into view, inviting us to select among several video selections.
One appeared to be a streaming movie entitled "Awkward."
Awkward?
No, not awkward. FORRRRWAAARRRD !!!
Meanwhile in an aside, he says to me conversationally, "Have you heard of a movie called Awkward?"
No, and I don't want to. I'm living that movie. I'd like to watch the ballgame, thank you.
# # #
Eventually he figured out that he didn't need to shout, hold the dratted thing at arm's length, or exxxaggggerate his pronunciation.
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.
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.
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.
# # #
Hope you are not being held hostage to a high-tech gadget this evening. If one is currently threatening your well-being, RUN !
Until next time ~ your friendly neighborhood techno-peasant - and proud of it.
*Lovable Old Coot
Tuesday, July 7, 2015
Keeping Records ... Or Not
We are people who keep records, sometimes even when we don't need to. We make to-do lists, and we follow up on them!
We keep track of to whom we sent, and from whom we received, Christmas cards - for the last ten years.
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.
We are folks who know how to keep records. And yet ... there are times when it is better if we do not.
# # # # #
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?
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?
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?
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."
In an entirely different kind of script, in one of my favorite baseball movies (For The Love of the Game 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: Clear the mechanism.
If he was to play at his best, give all he had to give, he must first clear the mechanism.
This meant letting go of any resentment over how the plate umpire may have called - or blown - the call on the previous pitch.
It meant forgetting about any interpersonal issues he might have with other players on the field.
It meant ignoring whatever physical pain he was enduring due to old, lingering injuries.
It meant ignoring the crowd noise, whether jeers or cheers.
Clear the mechanism.
Keep no record of wrongs.
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 are keeping a record - when what we should be doing is clearing the mechanism.
# # # # #
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.
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.
Help me to keep no record of wrongs.
# # # # #
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
We keep track of to whom we sent, and from whom we received, Christmas cards - for the last ten years.
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.
We are folks who know how to keep records. And yet ... there are times when it is better if we do not.
# # # # #
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?
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?
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?
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."
In an entirely different kind of script, in one of my favorite baseball movies (For The Love of the Game 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: Clear the mechanism.
If he was to play at his best, give all he had to give, he must first clear the mechanism.
This meant letting go of any resentment over how the plate umpire may have called - or blown - the call on the previous pitch.
It meant forgetting about any interpersonal issues he might have with other players on the field.
It meant ignoring whatever physical pain he was enduring due to old, lingering injuries.
It meant ignoring the crowd noise, whether jeers or cheers.
Clear the mechanism.
Keep no record of wrongs.
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 are keeping a record - when what we should be doing is clearing the mechanism.
# # # # #
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.
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.
Help me to keep no record of wrongs.
# # # # #
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
Wednesday, July 1, 2015
When the Earth Goes Topsy-Turvy
Psalm 75: 1 - 4 (an excerpt)
We give thanks to you, O god, ...
You say, "I choose the appointed time; it is I who judge uprightly.
When the earth goes topsy-turvy and nobody knows which end is up, I nail it all down again.
I put everything in place again. (The Message)
# # #
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.
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.
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.
I don't want to re-hash old clichés such as "Love the sinner, hate the sin", etc. As to whether homosexual behavior is 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.
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.
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.
Some would say, but those who practice "alternative lifestyles" are forming families, either by raising their own biological children from prior relationships or by adopting in heretofore unprecedented numbers. I would opine that such cobbled together arrangements are not families, so much as now legally recognized households.
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.
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.
We have all read where the road "paved with good intentions" leads to.
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.
In his written dissent to the 5-4 decision, Justice Samuel Alioto wrote this:
"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."
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."
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.
To disagree without being disagreeable is one of the toughest things in the world to do. But it can be done.
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.
She was not famous. But her son, David Wilkerson, the author of The Cross and The Switchblade, certainly was. She was simply ahead of her time, and ahead of the curve.
# # #
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.
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.
He then asked a stark question of us in the congregation.
"Which group is having the most influence on our present world - the one and half to three percent, or the seventy percent?"
# # #
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.
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.
# # #
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.
Until next time, Marsha
We give thanks to you, O god, ...
You say, "I choose the appointed time; it is I who judge uprightly.
When the earth goes topsy-turvy and nobody knows which end is up, I nail it all down again.
I put everything in place again. (The Message)
# # #
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.
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.
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.
I don't want to re-hash old clichés such as "Love the sinner, hate the sin", etc. As to whether homosexual behavior is 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.
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.
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.
Some would say, but those who practice "alternative lifestyles" are forming families, either by raising their own biological children from prior relationships or by adopting in heretofore unprecedented numbers. I would opine that such cobbled together arrangements are not families, so much as now legally recognized households.
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.
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.
We have all read where the road "paved with good intentions" leads to.
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.
In his written dissent to the 5-4 decision, Justice Samuel Alioto wrote this:
"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."
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."
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.
To disagree without being disagreeable is one of the toughest things in the world to do. But it can be done.
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.
She was not famous. But her son, David Wilkerson, the author of The Cross and The Switchblade, certainly was. She was simply ahead of her time, and ahead of the curve.
# # #
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.
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.
He then asked a stark question of us in the congregation.
"Which group is having the most influence on our present world - the one and half to three percent, or the seventy percent?"
# # #
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.
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.
# # #
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.
Until next time, Marsha
Wednesday, June 24, 2015
How long ? At the Kalico Kitchen
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.
Certainly it had been a good trip; but we were, nevertheless, glad to be home. Ahhhhhh..... yes, home again. Comfort.
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?"
The LOC*, always amenable to any conversation whatsoever, said, "Sure."
# # # # #
Actually, once the conversation was underway, she had several questions after the first one.
How long had we been married?
Was it hard to stay married that long?
Did we ever argue? (We both laughed pretty hard at that one.) How did we resolve a disagreement, when one arose?
Was it worth the effort?
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.
Thus, her questions.
# # # # #
Our answers:
- almost 27 years;
- yes, it was hard;
- yes - both of us laughing again - we definitely argued;
- we talked the issue through (or as the LOC would say, "talked it to death");
- and yes, it was worth it.
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.
# # # # #
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.
# # # # #
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.
As I have said before, we didn't just have "baggage" - we had "his and hers" storage units full of issues.
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.
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 - us - sitting there talking about twenty-six, almost twenty-seven, shared years.
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.
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.
# # # # #
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.
# # # # #
Hope you are in a safe and comforting place tonight. If so, we can be grateful together. Until next time, your grateful gardener ~ Marsha
(* Lovable Old Coot)
Certainly it had been a good trip; but we were, nevertheless, glad to be home. Ahhhhhh..... yes, home again. Comfort.
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?"
The LOC*, always amenable to any conversation whatsoever, said, "Sure."
# # # # #
Actually, once the conversation was underway, she had several questions after the first one.
How long had we been married?
Was it hard to stay married that long?
Did we ever argue? (We both laughed pretty hard at that one.) How did we resolve a disagreement, when one arose?
Was it worth the effort?
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.
Thus, her questions.
# # # # #
Our answers:
- almost 27 years;
- yes, it was hard;
- yes - both of us laughing again - we definitely argued;
- we talked the issue through (or as the LOC would say, "talked it to death");
- and yes, it was worth it.
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.
# # # # #
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.
# # # # #
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.
As I have said before, we didn't just have "baggage" - we had "his and hers" storage units full of issues.
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.
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 - us - sitting there talking about twenty-six, almost twenty-seven, shared years.
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.
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.
# # # # #
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.
# # # # #
Hope you are in a safe and comforting place tonight. If so, we can be grateful together. Until next time, your grateful gardener ~ Marsha
(* Lovable Old Coot)
Saturday, June 20, 2015
Puh -LEEZE - Could I Be Excused ? - Or at Least Strongly Sedated
Like many young people, there were quite a number of things I wanted to be when I grew up.
A flight attendant - only back then they were called stewardesses.
A teacher - of almost anything, but mainly of literature.
A businesswoman - because we didn't have much money and I thought all business people were rich.
One thing I never, EVER, aspired to being was ANY kind of technical advisor. And now I know why.
I have spent a good portion (or a bad one, depending upon your point of view) of the past three days with computer "experts" who were eager to solve my PC problems for me.
Would that enthusiasm equaled understanding. On either side of the conversation, theirs or mine.
I have now been rebooted, refreshed, logged on, logged out, deleted, canceled, unsubscribed and reconfigured.
Subsequently, I am bemused, confused (but definitely not amused), annoyed, dismayed, and exhausted.
Oh, and after each of the three separate customer service / chat/ help desk experiences, I have been politely invited to provide feedback about my satisfaction level.
ARGHHHHH !!!
# # #
So here's the deal. I may be back in a day or two when I have recovered from the above mentioned trauma. Or, it is entirely possible that I may never be heard from again. Right now it is a toss up.
# # #
Hope no one offered to fix your problem today; but if they did, I sincerely hope they actually delivered on their promise. If not, you have my condolences. Until next time (maybe) ~ Marsha
A flight attendant - only back then they were called stewardesses.
A teacher - of almost anything, but mainly of literature.
A businesswoman - because we didn't have much money and I thought all business people were rich.
One thing I never, EVER, aspired to being was ANY kind of technical advisor. And now I know why.
I have spent a good portion (or a bad one, depending upon your point of view) of the past three days with computer "experts" who were eager to solve my PC problems for me.
Would that enthusiasm equaled understanding. On either side of the conversation, theirs or mine.
I have now been rebooted, refreshed, logged on, logged out, deleted, canceled, unsubscribed and reconfigured.
Subsequently, I am bemused, confused (but definitely not amused), annoyed, dismayed, and exhausted.
Oh, and after each of the three separate customer service / chat/ help desk experiences, I have been politely invited to provide feedback about my satisfaction level.
ARGHHHHH !!!
# # #
So here's the deal. I may be back in a day or two when I have recovered from the above mentioned trauma. Or, it is entirely possible that I may never be heard from again. Right now it is a toss up.
# # #
Hope no one offered to fix your problem today; but if they did, I sincerely hope they actually delivered on their promise. If not, you have my condolences. Until next time (maybe) ~ Marsha
Thursday, June 18, 2015
To Serve and Protect
We recently visited with one of our children, who happens to be a police officer in a large city. He has never had to fire his weapon in the line of duty, except at the firing range in order to keep his required qualification status.
He sincerely believes that his primary duty as a sworn officer of the law is "to serve and protect." And he does.
Contrary to what we often see on TV, his proudest moment as a policeman was when he saved someone's life a couple of years ago. He did not mention it, but his family told us about it and that he received a commendation for it. Would that there were more like him.
# # #
I recently read an article written by Mark D. Roberts, of the Max DePree Foundation, wherein he said that when God instructed Adam to take care of Eden, the original language "to till it and to keep it" quite literally meant to serve and protect it.
Not to dominate it, nor exploit it, nor neglect it; but to protect and serve it. Mr. Roberts offered that this is a prototype of what is really intended for work that is meaningful and satisfying.
We can protect and serve, no matter what line of work we are in.
If we are a teacher, we are to protect and serve our students.
If we are a doctor or nurse, we are to protect and serve our patients.
If we are an administrator, we are to protect and serve those in our organization.
If we are an HR professional, we are to protect and serve our employees.
Even if we are an elected official (also known as, heaven for fend, a politician) we are supposed to protect and serve our constituents.
(Here I could go off on a tangent about whatever happened to the concept of being a "public servant"; but I'll save that for another day.)
If we are a farmer, we are to protect our crops or herds, so that we may serve our consumers the food needed for life.
And so it goes. In today's society, the generally prevailing attitude is, more often than not, win at any cost. Outdo the other guy. If making her look bad makes me look better, so be it.
I suspect that this unbridled ambition, and mean-spirited competition, is why so many are miserable in their work.
Once again, it appears that God knew what would lead to a satisfying life, when the first work he assigned mankind was to "till it and keep it" - or put another way, to protect and serve, regardless of where, or what, our particular role might be.
It's a thought.
# # # # #
Let's hope we have something worth tending and keeping today. If we do, let's share it with someone, shall we? Until next time, your grateful gardener ~ Marsha
He sincerely believes that his primary duty as a sworn officer of the law is "to serve and protect." And he does.
Contrary to what we often see on TV, his proudest moment as a policeman was when he saved someone's life a couple of years ago. He did not mention it, but his family told us about it and that he received a commendation for it. Would that there were more like him.
# # #
I recently read an article written by Mark D. Roberts, of the Max DePree Foundation, wherein he said that when God instructed Adam to take care of Eden, the original language "to till it and to keep it" quite literally meant to serve and protect it.
Not to dominate it, nor exploit it, nor neglect it; but to protect and serve it. Mr. Roberts offered that this is a prototype of what is really intended for work that is meaningful and satisfying.
We can protect and serve, no matter what line of work we are in.
If we are a teacher, we are to protect and serve our students.
If we are a doctor or nurse, we are to protect and serve our patients.
If we are an administrator, we are to protect and serve those in our organization.
If we are an HR professional, we are to protect and serve our employees.
Even if we are an elected official (also known as, heaven for fend, a politician) we are supposed to protect and serve our constituents.
(Here I could go off on a tangent about whatever happened to the concept of being a "public servant"; but I'll save that for another day.)
If we are a farmer, we are to protect our crops or herds, so that we may serve our consumers the food needed for life.
And so it goes. In today's society, the generally prevailing attitude is, more often than not, win at any cost. Outdo the other guy. If making her look bad makes me look better, so be it.
I suspect that this unbridled ambition, and mean-spirited competition, is why so many are miserable in their work.
Once again, it appears that God knew what would lead to a satisfying life, when the first work he assigned mankind was to "till it and keep it" - or put another way, to protect and serve, regardless of where, or what, our particular role might be.
It's a thought.
# # # # #
Let's hope we have something worth tending and keeping today. If we do, let's share it with someone, shall we? Until next time, your grateful gardener ~ Marsha
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