Light up the New Year!

 

A light at the end of the tunnel. As we welcome a new year, is there a light at the end of the tunnel? To say it has been a strange year would be a gross understatement. We are all hoping and praying that 2021 will be better. But will it? Yes, we will still be dealing with Covid-19, but what else can we do?

I once read that you can see the light of a candle the length of a football field away. That’s pretty amazing if you think about it. A football field is approximately 120 yards long and a candle flame is maybe an inch high. How is it possible to see that dot of light from such a distance? Well, first, we have to be looking for it. Recently I went out to view the conjunction of Jupiter and Saturn in the night sky. Had I not been looking for it, I would have missed it completely. It was the same with a comet earlier this year. It was there, but it looked like a smudge on my glasses. But because I was persistent, I saw it. We have to seek the light. It’s always there, but there are times we have to search long and hard to see it.

Earlier this morning, I went out to check the mail. We live in the flight path to the Boise airport so see the planes as they getting ready to land. They are low as they pass over the house. Yet, on this morning, I couldn’t see the plane for the fog. But I knew it was there. Even though I couldn’t see it, I could hear it. Just because we can’t see something doesn’t mean it isn’t there.

It feels like life is without light right now. People are sick, dying, out of jobs, loosing their businesses, scared and lonely. It appears to be a dark time. And yet, somewhere there is a candle burning. I have to look for it, and when I find it I have to feed the flame. Every candle will eventually go out if we don’t add fuel to keep it going. The size of the fire depends on how much fuel we add to that sputtering little flame. The bigger the fire, the more light there is. I don’t see many lighthouses guiding our way right now. But I do see a thousand little candles flickering in neighborhoods, communities, hospitals and schools. What can we do to feed those flames?

It is “the” question for the New Year. Are we willing to sit in the dark and bemoan our situation, or are we willing to get up and chop some wood to keep the fire burning? Are you at a loss as to what you can do? To begin with, I would suggest you look for the light. It can be found within your family, your work place, your church or your neighborhood. Whether you have a toothpick or a cord of wood to add to the flame, do it! Every little bit helps!

Where there is light, there can be no darkness. Even if the light is as faint as a candle at the end of a football field, there is still light. We only need the faintest light to ensure solid footing as we walk this path of life. Be that light for someone else in your life. Pass your light along to those who need it. Fill their buckets with tinder to start a new fire. Be creative, innovative, passionate and show the world that we all can make a difference!

Happy New Year! May all of your days be filled with the Light of the World! For in Jesus, there is no darkness! 

Just Writin' on the River Road

 

Dear Little Bit has grown up and left home. I am sure my friend doesn’t know he has moved to my house. I love having him . . . for the most part. He indulges in his breakfast every morning as I sit at my desk and chat with many of you. Ever vigilant, he perches atop the bench in the back yard, surveying his little kingdom. No cats in sight. He dips into the pan of sunflower seeds and peanuts quickly. Little does he know that the cats are eyeballing him from the window and are too lazy to go out and bother him.

Posing atop the park bench with his fluffy tail curled into a perfect “s” shape, he is the epitome of every squirrel everywhere. His red fur with its golden tips is shiny and perfectly coiffed. He is a postcard portrait. He moves in increments almost like a mechanical pet. His little tail snaps and fluffs as he surveys his world. And then he is off and running, climbing a tree with lightening speed. He stops midway and chatters at whatever it was that startled him. His tail waving and snapping as if to warn all squirrel-dom of danger.

Little Bit and I had an encounter earlier this fall. One that was rather personal for me. I had a lovely rope hammock swing hanging from the tree. “Had” being the key word. I could lazily swing in the warm breezes, enjoy the sound of the creek and watch the ducks swim or nap in the water. Then one day I saw a squirrel caught in the netting. I ran to rescue it, but he had managed to escape by the time I got there. It was then I noticed a hole the size of Rhode Island in my swing! It seems frayed rope must make ideal lining for a nest. I was a little torqued for a while and tried to encouraged the cats to conduct massive squirrel hunts. Not that they listen, much less obey! But it was hard to stay angry with the little critter for long, after all he is the embodiment of all cuteness!

I have forgiven Little Bit for his bad choice of nesting material and will make his life somewhat easier this winter by providing snacks. His little home, no matter how well insulated, does not have central heating. And, in this time with little to nothing to occupy my time, he is the cream in my coffee every morning. We must remember to find joy in all things. Even if it is just a little bit.

P.S. This little vignette was written for my friend Sherry, who is the creator of Little Bit. She has written a book, Little Bit in the Great Wide Forest, for children. Each short story is a morality play to teach children how to act and react when life gets confusing and difficult. These are great bed time stories that evoke discussion of the problems they face daily. If you would like to share this book with your children or grandchildren, please check out Little Bit in the Great Wide Forest by Sherry Vycital York at Amazon. It would make a great Christmas present!

Merry Christmas from the River Road

 

I am finished decorating for the holidays! I don’t remember it being this much work! I had an dozen huge boxes of decorations in the living room that I had to empty. As I hung up things in new spots, I also put a number of things into a carton that would eventually go to the thrift store. Now, in this house, I have much less space so a number of things had to go away.

We moved in to this house last year on Christmas Eve. It looked so dark and bare and lonely compared to the rest of the homes on the street. This year is much different. I bought a new tree and it sits proudly in the living room window for all to enjoy. Unfortunately the rest of the indoor decorations will go unappreciated by friends and family in this year of Covid-19. Deciding there would be no lights strung from the roof (ladders and age don’t mix well), we covered our bushes with lights, decorated the lamp post in the front yard and put up a huge sign saying “Holiday Greetings”.

Have you ever wondered why we go to all this effort to decorate our homes for Christmas? Does it have meaning? Is it just pretty? Yes and yes. I have ceased putting up Santa Claus décor. There is a handful of small items, but they stay because of the memories attached to them. I like greenery and candles, not that I ever light them. I enjoy the tree, it offers a soft, glowing warmth to the room. In previous years, it was decorated with pictures of the children, things that they made, gifts from friends . . . it was kind of an eccentric mess. But it was full of love and cherished memories. I have since passed on those decorations to the kids . . . who knows what they did with those interestingly crafted tidbits. Now I can have a tree with a “theme”. Not that I ever do, but it is fun to think that I can have one if I want.

Among the things I treasure and put up every year are my nativity scenes. One was a gift from the kids many, many years ago, small, plain white ceramic figures that depict the story of Christ’s birth. Some have gotten broken over the years and carefully glued back together, a little like the lives that we now offer on the altar of our faith. We are all chipped, cracked, damaged, scarred or broken in some manner. But God, in His infinite wisdom was the inventor of super glue. He can repair, fix, refine and even remodel all of those defects to create a finely crafted piece that reflects His Glory. I, for one, am ever so grateful that He has not tossed me out as too broken to celebrate the birth of his Son. In His eyes, I am perfect in every way. I am loved, forgiven, healed, sanctified and glorified! And ever so thankful!

What sort of decorations can I put up that could depict all that I have received from God? There is nothing, really. I can put up creches, or crosses, or candles and lights . . . but they are all just things. What He deserves and wants is my willingness to listen, to obey, to witness and share my faith with a lost and hurting world. How do I do that? I can’t (well, won’t) stand on the street corner and preach. I am not a missionary, or even a very good witness of all He has done for me. What I can offer are the gifts He has blessed me with over the years. I can be generous with my words and encouragement. I can forgive the undeserving and love the unlovely. Faith comes gift wrapped as a helping hand, a pot of soup, a note of appreciation, a telephone call or a visit. This Christmas, I pray that my God-given gifts be generously distributed among all of you. Next year we may celebrate with parties and dinners, but this year accept my gift of faith in that innocent child that was sent to save us all.

Merry Christmas to one and all!

Just Writin’ on the River Road

And just yesterday . . .

 Does anyone else in this world have identity issues? There are days when I wonder who I am. And then I look in the mirror and am aghast at the woman who is gazing back at me. I don’t recognize her! No matter how many times I look, I am still dumbfounded. Do I really look like that? Old and lumpy and frumpy. Who is she??

There is a thief in my house. There has to be! And he’s good! He slithers in at night and steals a little, not so much that you notice immediately, but eventually the accumulated of loss is evident. Boy, would I like to get my hands on him!! What he takes is more valuable than silver and gold. Sometimes more costly that life itself.

He steals my memory. It's annoying and frightening! I used to be reasonably sharp, now I can’t get my Jeopardy questions out before the buzzer. Little by little he chips away at my health. It is a strain here, a break there, a pain, an ache, general wear and tear. Granted, I didn’t take care of myself as a youth, but still . . . this is just not right! He wakes me up every couple of hours . . . maybe he wants me to catch him? I never do. I have just learned to sleep in increments and enjoy my nightly strolls to the bathroom. He has deposited fear in my account, fear of the everyday things. I don’t want to fall, have a car accident, slip on the ice, or just generally make a fool of myself because I don’t understand all this new fangled technology. I hate feeling disabled and ignorant!

I know this sounds ridiculous, but he has been transplanting the hair from my head to various other parts of my body. Seriously, this is not funny! Soon I will have a handful of hairs on my head but enough to braid in other places! He has stolen my balance. At times it would appear I have been indulging in the “bottle” as I stroll around the neighborhood. I have learned to limp with grace . . . most of the time. Unfortunately, the knee bone is connected to the hip bone which is connected to the back bone which just makes everything hurt. Makes me wonder what else in my life is out of sync and causing something other than physical issues. Could I be a few bricks shy a full load perhaps?

So what do I do about this thief? If I can’t stop him, I would at least like to slow him down! How do I do that? Suggestions? I suppose if got rid of all the sweets and junk food, he might pass me by for a short while. He might get tired if he had to exercise daily. That’s a thought. He could get bored if I read something to enlighten my mind. Or I could just stay up all night with a baseball bat in hand.

I have seriously considered investing in some brandy for my eggnog or creating my own wine cellar but I doubt that would change anything . . . or even make me feel better. Although that woman who lives in my mirror might lean more toward “soft focus”. Maybe I will, then I will have a good reason to stagger as I walk. When I explained to my doctor that my balance was getting worse, her suggestion was “Why don’t you get a walker?” I am seriously thinking of changing doctors! I need empathy, not that kind of advice!

I think this is a battle I will not win for my thief is ever vigilant and faithful about his secret visits. But that doesn’t mean I intend to give up and allow him to steal it all in one fell swoop. No sirie, I won’t allow him to win without a fight! And I’ll do it without a walker!

Just Writin’ on the River Road

Heads up! I may have a guest blogger join me from time to time. Please make her welcome.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Thanksgiving is here! In this extremely bizarre year, can we find something to be thankful for? Life will take us where our attitude goes. If I have an “attitude of gratitude”, will all my troubles go away? No, but a positive attitude will help me see things differently and appreciate all I have.

I actually sat down and made a list of things that I am grateful for this Thanksgiving. I know we’ve had a lot to whine about in this year of Covid, but when you make a list, the good far outweighs the bad. Why do we focus on the bad, the irritating or the unpleasant? Wouldn’t it be better to appreciate what we do have? I remember reading one of Corrie Ten Boom’s books in which she thanked God for the fleas that made their lives so miserable. The prison guards did not bother the women who had fleas. And she was grateful. It's all in how we perceive it.

I am grateful that the election is over. Whether your party won or lost, what is your attitude? Are you bitter, angry or sullen? Or are you gloating and boasting? My choice is to react with dignity and grace. I chose to pray for those in power. Will your choice make friends and influence people or cause hard feelings and drive others away. So many choices! Please make one that will ensure friendships, build a sense of community and is supportive of our nation.

I am grateful I have a roof over my head. There are those, even in this area, that don’t have that luxury. I am warm, I have food, I even have toilet paper! I don’t have a lot, but I have enough (and toilet paper is the least of my worries). For that I am extremely grateful.

I have freedom. Although there are times when I feel it is being removed from my life in small increments, in all the ways that count, I am free. I can express myself, exercise my right to vote, worship, travel and other things that are to numerous to count.

I can still get an education. Granted, it doesn’t look like it did last year, but it is still available. Although the fun part of school, the activities, are in short supply, we will survive that. Or we can be creative and find new ways to participate in these things. As Plato said, “necessity is the mother of invention”. And so it is!

I still have the freedom to worship as I choose. Again, that has a strange new look this year. Outdoor services this summer were actually kind of nice, but now it is distance and masks. While I miss all of the fellowship and social opportunities, I can still worship. And I thank God for that.

I have learned to appreciate the small things that I can participate in; neighborhood gatherings, walking with the girls, just walking in the neighborhood, or sometimes just plain walking since I now live with a bum knee. Somedays being upright is a real “high”.

I am thankful for medical facilities that are close. No more having to make that long drive in bad weather and on slick roads. No more wearing out my vehicle running back and forth. No more expensive gas fill-ups. While not a joy to go to the doctor, it is much easier.

I am grateful for friends. No one could be more blessed than I when it comes to friends. Old friends, new friends, all a precious and wonderful. Friends to reminisce with, to share with, to laugh and cry with . . . what more could I want?

I am so grateful for family and having them live closer to us. I've had the opportunity to watch little Oliver go from a newborn to a toddler. I witnessed my oldest grandson get his first car. And I had the pleasure of having the middle one here with us for his on-line schooling. I am blessed!

If I really think about it, my gratitude list is endless. I need to focus on it every day! I can even be grateful for Covid in a strange way. Not I am not grateful for the fear, panic, deaths or illness, but being locked down gave me a chance to cultivate that which I am passionate about . . . writing. With nowhere to go and not much to do, I have had the chance to work toward publishing a book someday. God provided a supportive writing group that has been helpful beyond my wildest dreams! That might not have happened if I had been off and running to all the activities I wanted to be participate in.

Make a gratitude list. Read it over every day, add to it, contemplate it, never let it go. For your attitude will make everyday things better, sometimes even the best. Smile (even if no one can see it), laugh, share, encourage others, keep in touch with friends and family. If it brings a smile to your face, do it! Your “attitude of gratitude” will help someone else down their bumpy road.

So this Thanksgiving, even if it is different from what we normally have, celebrate everything with a grateful attitude! Life is good, all the time! Especially if we choose to see it that way!

Just Writin’ on the River Road

Conspiracies and such?

So, okay . . . I have to admit that I am a conspiracy theorist deluxe. If it is strange, odd, weird or controversial, I genuinely enjoy exploring it. But I am not telling most of you anything that you don’t already know. Aren't you lucky to have weird friends? Or maybe not?

This isn’t something I have delved into recently, it has been a life long, on going endeavor on my part. Even as a child, I liked to read about strange things. Mysteries always enthralled me. They still do. I love trying to figure out “who done it”. Mostly, I wonder at the thoughts of the author . . . how does his mind work to come up with such interesting and unusual ideas? Or what about science fiction? Actually, science fiction isn’t really fiction anymore. It is said that what the mind of man can dream, he can accomplish. I think that’s true. Dick Tracy had a corner on the computerized watch market . . . who'd a thunk, way back then, we'd be Zooming and Skyping today.

Perhaps my “thing” is not so much conspiracy, but curiosity. I want to know about things, especially things that can’t be explained in normal ways. Haven’t you ever wondered about Bigfoot? Or UFO’s? What about the billions of galaxies out there? Don’t you want to know? I do. I have a brain that is obsessed with understanding things and making some semblance of order out of them. Even if it doesn’t make sense under the headline of “normal”, there is still an answer of some kind out there somewhere.

Conspiracy theorist are always thinking, always contemplating, trying to find an answer that works for them. We don’t have to agree, but it often times makes me feel better to think I’ve got a handle on the current mystery. And in exploring these ideas, I find that more often than not, they are not that far off base. In some cases, they are spot on! I need explanations! Are there UFO’s or not? What are they? I have my own theories, be they right or wrong, that have offered some reasonable answers for me.

Yes, I admit to being an Ancient Aliens, Monster Quest and Coast to Coast aficionado, to mention a few. Mostly those programs raise more questions than they answer. But they do make me think . . . what if, how come, why, where. I have never had a personal encounter with a UFO, but I know people who believe they have. Do I have an answer? No. But there probably is one out there somewhere. Just because I haven’t seen a flying saucer, or a Bigfoot, or a ghost, doesn’t mean that those things aren’t real to someone.

In this life we are never going to understand or explain all things. The best we can do is question everything. Whether it is the dark web, black ops, government cover up, Covid or political hearsay . . . I am willing to bet that there is a grain of truth in some of it. Truth is absolute, but once man gets done twisting and reshaping it, I don’t know what to believe. And so I consider it all, throw out that which doesn’t work for me, and proceed on my merry way until I actually have a “close encounter” of some kind. And it will happen someday.

I treat all of this unexplainable stuff like I do my Bible study. When I come across something that makes no sense to me, I put it in a mental box and file it away on my brain storage shelf. At some point, sooner or later, God will reveal His truth to me concerning the situation. It is really quite interesting how that works. It never ceases to amaze me anymore when that little “light bulb” goes on and I can see clearly.

Will we ever figure it all out? No. We were never meant to know everything. But isn’t the fun in discovery? Somebody convinced Columbus the world was round - - aren’t you glad? Galileo proved that the world doesn’t revolve around us. Good thing. The Wright Brothers believed they could fly. They were right.

If you can imagine it, you can dream it. Dream it, and you can do it! I believe that! Our problem today is that most of us don’t dream anymore. We must! Dream big! I mean, really big! Without a dream, we accomplish nothing. With a dream, the world becomes our footstool!

Just Writin’ on the River Road

My Life Without . . .

 The rest of the world has gone all technological on me, but being part of the old school, I still use books. And one of my tools is an old fashioned dictionary. It has always been invaluable and a solid source of information, until this week. This week I discovered that my nice, new(ish) Webster’s New College dictionary is lacking. Lacking the E’s and F’s to be exact. It is missing 64 pages. No, they weren’t cut out, it was printed that way.

What would life be like without any E’s or F’s? There would be no elephants, no emus, echidnas or eagles. Imagine life without those magnificent beasts. Or eels. Maybe that wouldn’t be so bad. Without a ewe there would be no lambs.

I could no longer strive for excellence or elegance. Life would be flat without elevation. I would no longer wax eloquent. I could not embrace my loved ones. I am sure there would be no hard feelings if we dispensed with the enema. My enthusiasm would be gone. How sad. I couldn’t run errands anymore. There would be nothing essential in my life. But, then again, I would never again be excluded from things either. And I won’t expire. I can’t be extraordinary or exquisite, and life with no extravagance or exuberance would be boring. Shoot, I wouldn’t even have an eye to see with.

Life with no F’s would be even worse. I could no longer save face, have a face lift, do an about face or face down my enemy. I would be a blank slate. There would be no facts in this world. I would have no faith, I would not be faithful . . . but then again I wouldn’t be faithless either. And I could never fail! What a concept! This creaky old body would never fall back or fall behind or fall by the wayside. Sadly, I would have no fantasies. But there would be no fear. I wouldn’t be female. What would I be? Oh . . . there would be no felines. Life without cats…..never! No fireworks, fireplaces, flannel or fountains. I wonder what it would be like to never be flabby again. Or have to worry about flatulence. That would be a much desired relief. There would be no room for flippant, fluent or foolish remarks. I couldn't dance---no feet. Oh . . . no food. I might starve to death or at least lose a few pounds. I would never forget anything . . . to a lot of people’s chagrin. I could never forgive or be forgiven. What a sad thought. I wouldn’t have to worry about fornicating . . . heaven forbid. I would never be full, or empty for that matter. There would be no fruit or flowers to enrich my life. There would be no FUN!

I will never be without these things just because someone left them out of the dictionary. But it makes one think of all the things that are taken for granted each day, each moment. Would I want them removed from my life, or should I take the good with the bad? Would I want to lose fear at the expense of fun? God has balanced this world, fine tuned it into existence; to be without pain or joy would leave a place unfulfilled in life. Take a look at your dictionary. How much you are missing?

Just Writin’ on the River Road

 

I saw it from the corner of my eye. Noooooooo . . . not yet! It can’t be, I’m not ready. But ready or not, life will proceed as planned. Tomorrow it will be not one, but a handful, then they will shower down upon me filling the air with whirling color. Even though I am not ready, autumn is here.

It begins with that tiny swelling on the side of a branch. If the weather warms and the sun showers it with golden rays, it soon evolves into a tightly wrapped bud. Not much to look at but it holds the promise of a new beginning; of life returning to that tree which has appeared lifeless for so many long, cold months. Things are changing; the weather is warming, the suns rays stronger, the days are getting longer and the little bud is encouraged. Slowly but surely, it draws up sap from deep within the roots and fills its tiny little form with nourishment. Given all the right conditions, it will open to reveal a small green shoot or perhaps a blossom. Some even furnish fuzzy little fur coats that delight us. Then, what has taken so long explodes into a dazzling array of tender leaves, unbelievable fragrances and soft petals dancing in the breeze. It blinds us in its glory, it stuns us with its versatility, it encompasses us in its beauty. Spring has arrived!

From there the trees develop a maturity, the leaves become large and heavy. They shield us from the summer sun, some will begin to produce fruit. Still lovely and appreciated, they have settled into a state of contentment for the summer. They sway in the breeze, rustle out tunes, even test their stamina in the course of a storm. They are made for swings and tree houses, providing a canopy that lays out intricate shadows on the ground below. These trees are life at its best. They are relaxed, protective, eager to share their gifts of shelter and shade.

Then silently but suddenly, the weather turns; the days become shorter with crisp mornings and cold nights. The trees prepare for their final performance. Slowly they quit drawing up that life-giving food from their roots and their color begins to change. They are dying. But even in that process they harmonize with melodies of scarlet, gold, maroon and an infinite shades of yellow. Their grace has now emerged; they have given their all and now willingly nod off to sleep. The wind whips the trees and their precious leaves scatter creating a kaleidoscope of color. As a last hooray, they cover the ground with a patchwork blanket to insulate against the cold and snow. But before they go, they jump and tumble at our feet as we walk, they dance in whirlwinds, and provide immense joy to children tumbling in a fresh raked pile of color. They bring joy even in their death.

The tree retreats into a deep slumber. It draws nourishment up in its roots to sustain life through the long winter months. It stands there, stark and naked, with no glorious crown to surround it. It’s nothing but a dark and dreary spot on the landscape. For the most part it goes unnoticed by everything around it. Death. Or it seems that way. But God is filling it with a desire to wait, wait until the time is right, and then He will urge it to re-enter the living world. And thus the cycle begins again.

Is it so different for people? We begin as tiny buds of life, tender and helpless. With the right amount of love and care we grow into strong, young saplings. From there we bloom into adulthood. Some may bear fruit that can be passed on to others, some bear seeds to feed the masses, most provide comfort and shelter to those around them. And then comes that season that is most beautiful and yet painful. As we begin to shed our leaves, to feel our life ebbing away, we learn grace and we rely on mercy. Our time is coming to provide for the next generation. Not material goods, but wisdom, knowledge, joy, grace, patience. The cycle of life. Winter is not our time of death . . . it is our time to return to our creator, to live again in His eternal kingdom. Our life begins anew for all time.

Just Writin’ on the River Road

The lighter side....

I feel that I have been unduly "deep" for the last little bit so thought I would do my best to give you a laugh, a hoot or a giggle to lift up your day. The following is a true story from our family memory catalog. Some of you may even remember the incident. 

There are times in life when your children go over and above to show love and devotion to their parents. It doesn’t happen often, but when it does, it creates a special memory.

Once upon a time, I had a little bird, a green Quaker Parrot. The kids had cats and fish and rats and dogs, but I had a bird. A bird who could talk. He was all mine. He ruled the roost, quite literally. The kids, dogs and cats all had great respect for this little eight inch dynamo. He rode around on my shoulder while I was working in the house or watching television. And, yes, I actually had a “poop sweater” that I wore because it is virtually impossible to potty train a bird! And, on more than one occasion, I actually went to the store forgetting to take it off.

One cold, dark January night, I went outside to put the dogs to bed and forgot that my little green friend was on my shoulder. He took one look at the great outdoors and took flight. I was sick. I rounded up the kids and we walked the streets whistling his favorite song, “Do Your Ears Hang Low”. This is a true test of devotion from your teenagers. Oh, the humiliation of being seen by their friends walking the streets, whistling at the top of their lungs while searching for an unseen bird. Eventually we located him about 75 feet up in a huge tree in the neighbor’s yard. We called, threw things, tried climbing the tree but there was no way of getting to my bird. It was cold and dark, we were freezing, and we were fresh out of ideas.

At my wits end, I called the police department thinking they might have a ladder or other means to get up a tree. Thus the conversation goes. Me: “I have a parrot up a tree.” Dispatcher: “You have a carrot up a tree?” It went down hill after that. Eventually the police cruiser arrived, and then the second one, and eventually a third, all with their lights flashing. It must have been a slow night for the entire department to show up . . . or perhaps this was the most interesting call they had had in some time. One officer fingered his gun. They could get my bird out of the tree alright, but I probably wouldn’t like the condition in which he came down. REALLY! Not funny!

The next suggestion was to call the fire department. They have ladders, you know. Now I have three police cruisers (with their lights flashing) and a fire truck with its lights bouncing off the neighboring houses. Did I mention that these particular neighbors had a reputation for selling “unseemly, illegal items” out their back door? They arrived home in the midst of our little yard party and probably proceeded to flush all their profit down the toilet. It could have been a very costly night for them.

The fire department does have ladders, but as they explained ever so nicely to my teenage daughter, their ladders would not reach that high. My darling child reamed the fire chief up one side and down the other. I suspect they probably purchased a longer ladder the next day.

The only viable solution was to shoot him out of the tree with the fire hose. I can not make this stuff up, nobody would believe it. So they rolled out the hose the full length of the block, hooked it to the hydrant and proceeded to shoot my poor, frightened bird out of the tree. First shot unlocked his frozen feet from the branch, the second one hit him full force and he fluttered to the ground. I rushed over, stuffed him under my coat and ran for the house only to trip in the irrigation ditch and come crashing down on top of him. By now he was not only suffering from hypothermia and being blasted out of a tree by a water cannon, but he was sandwiched between my chest and the frozen ground.

I took him inside and thawed him out under the hot water faucet. The vet said to give him some honey. I did that and put him to bed figuring we’d have a funeral in the morning. But low and behold, by morning he was back to his old self, whistling “Do Your Ears Hang Low”. He promptly went to the birdie salon and got his wings clipped. One midnight escapade was enough!

The bird survived, the children were not seen by anyone who mattered, and life went on. But the memory will remain in the annals of our family lore forever.

It was a happy ending. And he provided joy and entertainment for another 6-7 years before he packed his little birdie suitcase and left home for good. Another amazing escape from which he never returned.

Just Writin' on the River Road

Same Kind of Different

 I read a lot. All sorts of things, to learn, to relax, to expand my horizon, to have fun. And while I enjoy most of the books, there are only a handful that stick with me for all time. It is generally because the story hits a chord in my life, it makes me think, it changes me.

One such book is A Same Kind of Different As Me by Ron Hall and Denver Moore. I read it years ago and was impacted by this true story of love, grace, mercy and faith. It has been made into a movie but the film does not have the impact of the book. I really can't explain the story to you for it is so simple that it is complex. It is gut-wrenching, painful, healing and filled with faith. I would recommend it for the story is ever so impactful right now with our country being torn apart by violence.

We are all different. Each one of us is a unique individual, just like our fingerprint. No two are exactly alike.  Isn't that incredible? We can mass produce almost anything, but only God created life is one of a kind.  Some of us are roses, some are zinnias, some groundcover . . . but all of us are needed to make this world a whole. Even weeds serve a purpose. Their roots bind the soil so it doesn't erode. So why is is so hard to accept the fact that it is okay to be different?

We can, and do, judge at the drop of a hat. I can easily judge your sin as long as it isn't the same as mine. If you enter into my world, you are treading on thin ice. I like my sin and probably don't want you messin' with it. You laugh, but isn't it the truth? There is judgement on the obvious levels . . . race, sex, work, etc. Those are differences that everyone is aware of. But what about "my sin"?  I don't want you to judge that because I don't see it as bad as your sin.

Worthiness.  This is a word that I have struggled with for my entire life. I never felt worthy in relationships, in employment, even within myself. It wasn't until I realize that if I was not "worthy" then Christ's death on the cross was pointless. That was a slap across my face. It changed the way I thought about myself and others. I may not agree with you or share your belief or walk in your shoes but that doesn't make either of us unworthy.

So what can I do with this epiphany? I never thought of myself as judgmental, but I am. We all are. It is part of our human condition. Do you know where my judgment did the most damage? In my own life! My own judgement has done the most damage to me. It kept me from living life to the fullest, from using the gifts I had been given and becoming all that God intended me to be. If we can accept that we are worthy, then we can shoot for the moon  . . . .if we miss, we can hang on a star. We can accomplish our dreams, fulfill our desires; we can operate without fear.  What excruciating freedom there in that!!  Freedom from fear. It looses our chains, it cuts the baggage rope, it gives us wings to fly!

None of this is to say that circumstances can't circumvent some of our dreams. But if I am worthy, then I will find a way around this obstacle and keep going.  You are worthy!  We all are.  We need to accept that one fact, step off the cliff, spread our wings and FLY!

Just Writin' on the River Road

Outside the box?

 Think outside the box. How many times have you heard that expression? The box. What is the box? I struggle with that phrase because it requires me to overcome something that I know.  The box...if the box is a problem, means I have to discard everything I have learned in order to find a different solution. I try, but it is difficult to do.

What about our boxes? Life is filled with boxes. So many boxes that we must look like a engine  pulling a train down the street. Some boxes are inevitable and I can't rid myself of them, some I have assumed throughout my life and others were thrust upon me. What am I talking about? Let's take a look.

The one that is in the forefront right now is the "race" box.  I can't change this box.  I am what I am.  Then there is the "sex" box. I am female and while I guess I could change that, I probably won't.  That would just put me in "different" box. Or the "age" box. Now I sincerely would like to think my way out of that one but there isn't much chance.  I suppose I could alter it a bit with some plastic surgery but it really doesn't change the box itself, just the wrapping. And there is the "Mom" box and the "wife" box. So many boxes . . ..

There are also other boxes, ones that we impose upon ourselves. The "political" box that I have chosen definitely puts me at odds with some. Or the "religion" box which can and, sometimes does, offend people. There is the "employment" box which defines who I am by what I do. Or the "education" box that shows the world how smart I am, or think I am. Or what about the "insecurity" box?

But the boxes that bother me the most are the boxes that I am thrust into against my own volition. It is just not right to put someone in a box because YOU think that is where they belong. It could be a "protestor" box or a "rioter" box.  It might be the "wealth/poverty" box. But it is the "fear" box that is most disconcerting.  This is a box that has been created by man to keep me in a BOX. I see so many people who are afraid to live for fear they'll die. I hate to tell you this but we were all terminal from the day of conception.  I refuse to allow someone else to put me in this box.

I had an epiphany the other day while walking with a group of ladies.  Only one in the bunch was wearing a mask and, since I am new, I found it very disconcerting that I couldn't see her face. She seemed to disappear into the background. I couldn't see her and found that I didn't listen to her either. This "mask wearing" box concerns me greatly!  Not because of Covid-19, but because we are being separated, we are becoming non-entities to each other. And if we become faceless objects, then it will be much easier to be less compassionate, concerned or accountable. We need one another! Occasionally we might not like one another, but we still need each other. And if we can't see the joy or pain or indecision on someone's face, how are we going to understand or empathize with them. We have been thrust into the "isolation" box! Is it living if we reside in an isolation chamber? Back in the "day", isolation was punishment: standing in the corner, going to your room, solitary confinement. Now we are becoming a society that accepts isolation for our own good. Maybe this new box will keep me alive, but it has removed all the joy of living!

So how do we think outside the box?  Which ones do we try to dislodge from our lives.  It is a little difficult when there are so many.  I know that I am tired, tired of dragging along crap that for the most part is of no consequence in this life. I am a created being. Created in the image of God. And that is the only box I want to fit in. The rest can be cut away. What's in your box?

Just Writin' on the River Road

Change or not?

How do you reason with the unreasonable? Do you prod them to accept your point of view, argue the fine points or bury them with evidence to the contrary? Probably none of that will work. Change is a hard thing. Is it possible to convince others to see things differently? Maybe. Perhaps a change of tactics, removal the barriers or an open the line of communication would help.

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                           Allow people to make up their own mind, it will be much more palatable.  And accepted. So how do we do that?  Sometimes it's a matter of allowing them to choose differently.  Rather than railing at your teen about the travails of driving intoxicated, tell them about someone who was maimed or died as a result of irresponsibility. They now have information to think about and they may make a different choice.

You can warn people that they are being manipulated. No one likes to feel like they are being used. In the midst of this Covid-19 situation, I feel manipulated. Therefore I tend to push back. I don’t think that’s what was intended with this overdose of information, but that’s the effect it has on me. Rather than accepting the mandates, I rebel. If the war was against the virus and not forcing me to adhere to rules or if I found the mandates consistent, I would be more accepting and see these mandates as (perhaps) helpful.

Ask questions rather than making statements. Rather than condemning the protestors for tearing down statues, ask them why that monument disturbs them. Do they know what it stands for? Do they even know who the individual was? (Ya, I know . . . that is pretty "out there")  Asking questions makes people think. Personally, I think most of those who are doing all this damage are following a “herd” mentality. They really have no idea what they think or why they are doing things. And that, ladies and gentlemen, is frightening. I am pretty sure they know wrong from right  but really don’t care. A question might bring their conscience to the forefront . . . if we ever have a chance to pose it.

You can always call attention to what a person is saying verses what they are doing. Is destroying a small business that has taken years to build going to make things better for you? How is destroying public property making life better for those you “think” you are helping? Just asking…….

As I said, change is difficult. How many of you have purchased the same laundry detergent (or any other item) since year one? There might be something out there that is more cost effective that could save you money. Have you checked the ingredients? I was looking at plant food the other day . . . literally every brand from generic to top of the line had the same ingredients. Cost, we have to count the cost. Whether it is shopping, downsizing, changing our lifestyle or acting out. Remember to consider the cost.

Make small changes. People are more accepting when the change is smaller. Rather than write off the opinions of political opponents because of listening to exclusive media outlets that support your belief, take a few minutes to listen to the other side. No one side is perfect, but we need to make informed decisions and not be “manipulated” by the media. One of the things I do is make a list……...an honest list for me alone. Pros and cons. You don’t have to like a person or be affiliated with a political party to honestly appreciate some of the things that they have done. I find the political divide in our country to be not only sad, but devastating. Give it a try . . . listen, make a choice based on facts not opinion. Do you like the stock market going up? Check. Do you hate the idea of war? Check. Are you in favor of jobs? Check. Are you pro or anti-abortion? Check.  Choose the side that most closely supports your belief.

All that being said, I really don’t hold out much hope of changing of those who are beyond reason. They are “sheeple”. They would follow the crowd off a cliff and find someone else to blame for their actions. We have raised a generation of people who don’t think, don’t seek the truth and certainly don’t see the bigger picture. We are so busy defending our position with silly analogies, accepting lies or following causes, that we don’t bother to truly think at all. Unfortunately, conviction and hate run deep. I do have hope, but it is not in this world. The hope I have is eternal. And we are all given the choice of where to spend eternity. Have you chosen yet? You may want to think about it.

Just Writin’ on the River Road

Twilight Zone

As I lay in bed in the morning, contemplating the day, I wonder if I will be entering the Twilight Zone or the Outer Limits when my feet hit the floor.  The Twilight Zone, where normal becomes bizarre and the bizarre is accepted as the norm.   Where everyday life has become so peculiar that we don't know what is true anymore.
                                  
I remember watching the Twilight Zone as a child.  We did not have television so it was a treat when we spent the night at our cousins and could watch that wonderful black and white box.  One episode in particular comes to mind of an individual on a wagon train suddenly cast into the future with cars, etc.  I thought it was interesting to see the reaction he had to the future and how the residents reacted to him. To say he was stupefied by all of the "conveniences" of the future would be a gross understatement. I feel a little that way now, like I have been cast into a place that is completely foreign to me.  Perhaps I am not as adaptable as I once was, or maybe the world has just gotten weird, but something really strange is happening.

Recently I ran away for a couple days and in our travels happened upon a little ghost town out in the middle of nowhere.  The stroll through the cemetery was interesting and enlightening.  The monuments held the history of the past.  While I knew none of these people, I could understand their pain and anguish as I paused before each stone.  Children, so many children had died.  Sometimes up to three or more in one family.  Young women who never survived childbirth on the frontier.  Men who died in accidents or other tragedies.  Those stones told a story.  It told of hard times, of pain and anguish, of unbearable circumstances; it reflected the life of this long forgotten town.  Somehow, at some time, it had ceased to exist as a viable place, but the monuments were still there to help us remember.

As you have probably surmised, I have a difficult time with the history of our country being torn down and defaced.  While some of these landmarks may not reflect our proudest moments, they are still a way of remembering the past.  Germany refused to dismantle the concentration camps.  They choose to remember the holocaust and the pain and destruction that ensued.  It was horrible and yet, it must be remembered so as to never repeat it.  Those who forget history are doomed to repeat it.  That is pretty heavy if you think about it.

I suspect that many of the people  involved in this uprising have no clue as to why they are doing it.  They need a cause and choose to believe what they are told.  Destroying our monuments is not going to change our history.  To move forward, it is necessary to embrace our history.  We can change the future, but not the past.  But we can learn from the past, if we take the time to understand it.

At this point, the protestors are not changing anything.  In fact they are riling people to the point that they will never establish any change.  The looting, stealing, killing, harming others....none of that is endearing them to the average American.  Just the opposite. I have no sympathy or compassion for them in the least.  If they want to better themselves, get educated, or find their place in society, I am more than willing to help. But doing it with violence, fear and destruction will accomplish nothing.

So am I the only one who is floundering in the Twilight Zone?  Do you wake up each morning and wonder where in the universe you are living?  There are days when I have reached the Outer Limits of what I can accept in this world. Lord, give me wisdom, compassion and understanding as I traverse these days.  In spite of the all the convoluted circumstances, this I know, we can't do it alone.

Just Writin' on the River Road

A new low...

It has come to this. I have sunk to a new low. I have turned into my mother in oh so many ways (not all of which are bad). Life and age have a way of leveling the playing field. And this new “lifestyle” hasn’t helped.

We are all “suffering” from this corona virus thing in one way or another. While not sick, and not particularly worried about getting sick, it has created a whole new world for me. I feel cheated! Upon moving, I had a number of plans to volunteer, to join things, to be involved in church, travel, to spend lots of time with my children and grandchildren . . . nearly none of which have come to fruition. The days pass . . . I know this because I have to refill my pill box weekly, but it seems there is no satisfaction, opportunity, or growth in my life. Things have become routine . . . get up, sit in front of this machine for a couple of hours, do a small handful of household chores, read until dark. At that point I resort to television and there is little on the tube that I care to watch. Which brings be to my new “low”, game shows. Did you know there is a whole network dedicated to game shows? New ones, old ones, silly ones, and some a little challenging. Now I admit to being a Jeopardy fan. I like the challenge of trivia. But most of the others are what I would loosely term entertainment. But sometimes it beats what is on the rest of the line up for the evening.

Not only have I turned into my mother, but I have also followed in my father-in-law’s footsteps. As a middle-ager, I would wonder why he like to watch those “old” shows. I think I get it now. Familiarity. And most had good stories, no foul language, heroes, and most of all, I could identify with them in some way. The wheel has come full circle. Don’t you just love getting old? I plead guilty to Perry Mason, Andy Griffith, Lucy, Carol Burnett, even Red Skelton. Now these people were funny! It was predictable, every Lucy show had the same plot but I loved every minute of it. Andy and Barney have that same relationship that never ends. It depicts life in a gentler time, a kinder time. It feels good! We need that right now . . . we need to feel good.

In spite of having satellite TV, I also have Netflix. Sadly I have depleted much of their stores too. I have watched all the British murder mysteries, reruns of some old favorites, but much of it is foul mouthed, violent or has subject matter that I prefer not subject myself to. I loved the Hallmark channel at one time, but now it has  become the same movie over and over with different characters and new locations. It can almost be depressing after a while for life does not always turn out perfectly in the end.

And so I spend my days reading. It is one way to vicariously experience the world. But even that has been a challenge. I gave my entire library away when I moved thinking I could use the public library. Well, guess what? It won’t be open again until the middle of July. So I haunt the “little libraries” in the neighborhood, check the shelves at thrift stores and read things I wouldn’t have given a second glance before. And you know, some have been quiet good. It is my escape. Escape to another world, another time, a new adventure, becoming acquainted with new characters, and for a moment, LIVING a new and different life.

And so, book in hand, game shows on the TV, life goes on. I pray that I don’t become so ingrained in this new way of life that I can’t find my way out of it when all of this goes away. Will I come away with my wit and my sense of humor still in tact? Or will resentment fill those slots. It is a struggle. And I am sure I am not alone.

Just Writin' on the River Road

And then there is this . . . .

Saw this thing on Face Book - “Don’t mess with old people. We didn’t get this way by being stupid!”  There is actually a fair amount of truth in that statement.  There are a lot of great things about retirement and there are a number of other things that aren’t so wonderful. I can no longer skip through a field of daisies (if I could find a field of daisies). On the other hand, I probably could beat a hasty retreat, even at my age, if the field was full of goat heads!  Life tends to set limits as we age.  A fact that I still refuse to accept no matter how many times it is pointed out to me.

But there are things I can do. I can save you a lot of time and effort if you will just ask for some advice. Most of us mature people have “been there, done that” at least once. There are several graduation certificates from the School of Hard Knocks hanging from my walls. I have lived through enough crises to know when to panic and when not to. I have learned to take time and think things through before I make life changing decisions. I have the wisdom to consider the consequences before I leap into the unknown.

Given that I can still mentally operate in this world, why is it that I am basically ignored by the younger generation. I am still capable, but am some times treated as if I am invisible. It seems so unfair. We (the collective aged) finally get our life together, and our body takes a hike and we are left with a shell of what we once were. I finally have some semblance of financial stability and the time to enjoy life, and I find that the ole bod says “I don’t think so!” My head says I can, the body says no…….and I am caught in the middle, torn between an active imagination and a broken frame.

I remember when my parents got older, I thought I was trying to help them with certain things because it all seemed so easy for me. I knew about things that they had not experienced. Now I am my parents. And I resent being treated like I don’t know anything. I don’t need help yet with decision making, financial planning, plans, etc. I, however, could use some help running a shovel, pruning a tree or pulling some weeds.

Why is it so difficult to listen? I think that is what most of us, young or old, want. We want to be heard. Respect for our elders has disappeared. It has been replaced with an arrogance of sorts. As a child, I remember my grandmother as a tough, old pioneer woman. She would walk 15 miles out to our farm when she was in her 70’s. She was not your cuddly, babysitting grandma by a long shot. But she would take me for walks on the prairie or in the woods where she taught me the names of the plants and what they could be used for, which ones to eat and which ones to stay away from. I still remember those things. She didn’t talk much so when she did, I listened.

My Grandma Thompson

That has not changed today. I want my children, my friends to listen to me. I don’t like feeling left out or treated as though I don’t understand anything. I am not just an old person! Not yet anyway. If you would walk with me and talk with me, I might do better. I can still learn, it might take a wee bit longer, but I can. I have wisdom to impart, knowledge to share, even some stories to tell. You will want to know these things someday. Only I won’t be here anymore. I know this, because I often wish my parents, grandparents and other extended family were here so I could ask them questions about the past.  It is important to know where we came from.  Genealogy research is great but it doesn't have "flesh and blood" memories like the ones we get from our family.

One of my most precious friends in my middle years was my neighbor who was sharp as a tack up to the day she died at 103. She had wisdom, knowledge, faith, strength and stories of such things as the sinking of the Titanic, the Great Depression, and her life on the “frontier” as an 18 year old school teacher. She was fascinating. I have stories too. I lived through the things you now study in school. I remember Vietnam, Kennedy’s assassination, the men landing on the moon. I lived with no electricity or plumbing. I took a bath in a wash tub, used an outhouse and cooked on a wood stove. I chopped wood, butchered chickens and canned vegetables. In my own way, I am more prepared for a pandemic than many other people. Did it ever occur to you youngsters that I, or your parents or grandparents, might have wisdom or understanding that could help you survive? You will want to know these “old people” some day and understand their ways……..don’t let it be too late.

Just Writin’ on the River Road

The Case of the Wandering Mind

Okay, I am the first to admit that my mind wanders down some interestingly obscure roads on occasion. Perhaps I have just had too much time on my hands lately, or no creative outlet . . . whatever the reason, I’d like you to think about this with me.

No matter where in the world we were born, how well educated we are, or what our environmental existence is, we all have two things in common: language and math. I know that for many of us, these two things are a bane to our existence. While I acknowledge to being the grammar/spelling police, math is a real pain in the backside for me. I remember algebra (or not), geometry (which did make a modicum of sense and I will tell you why later), and then in college it was statistics. I tried, I really did. But there was no way I could make any sense of it, nor could I find a reason to do so other than pass the class.

Have you really thought about it? Everyone can communicate with someone else. How did we learn to associate sounds with meaning? How did we come to string sounds together to relate ideas? And for some, these sounds and ideas become music. For those who can’t speak, there is an intricate movement of the hands to impart their thoughts and ideas to others. Then at some point, these sounds were given a physical shape (letters). And grouping those shapes gave us words, and stringing together words and thoughts gave us the ability to communicate. To put icing on the cake, there are approximately 6,500 languages in the world. It was not something that was born in just one spot and spread. Now putting two people in a room who speak different languages is a challenge, but eventually we learn to understand each other. Having lived in a Spanish speaking area, it is amazing how much you learn without even realizing it.

Given we have language, we now also have the written word. Think about reading for a minute. It is what you are doing right now. How do you know what I am saying? How are these characters revealing to you what is on the page. While not all people have a written word, they all have ways of passing down history and important events to the next generation. It maybe through story telling, or song . . . but it is there. And the written word can be interpreted differently. My husband is a word reader. He reads every word on the page and thus understands the story. I am a picture reader. I never remember seeing a word on the page, but I have a visual image of what was said. It is like watching a movie. Therefore, details are important to me, they enhance the picture. Trying to read directions is another matter….there is no picture and I have to revert to word for word and it becomes a trial to comprehend it. This is why geometry made a bit of sense…..it had shapes or pictures.

Now math. Math follows the same path as language but with a more obscure nature. We all understand the concept of counting even if we don’t have numbers with which to do it. Children understand “you have more than me” at a very early age. How do they know? They can’t count. So we have the ability to understand the concept no matter how obscure. Okay, I get addition, subtraction, multiplication, division . . . well, as long as it isn’t too complicated. And I even see a use for it. But if it goes beyond that...where they add letters and symbols to the numbers, well you may as well speak to me in an extremely foreign language. Numbers are a very abstract idea. To assign an amount to a certain shape and then “tweek” it a bit to make it bigger or smaller, is strange. I learned to tell time with Roman Numerals, now that is really obscure! One through four make sense, from there it goes down hill.

And then we can throw music into the mix of language. I really tried to learn music, but it just wasn’t there. For many people it is “built in” to their very being. It speaks to them in profound ways . . . emotionally, spiritually, linguistically. And music is also common to all people. How does this happen? Yes, we all have the ability to learn but there is a difference between copying some else’s actions and understanding a huge number of complex signs and making them actually communicate a universal message.

Now I understand there are “number” people and there are “word” people in this world and never the twain shall meet. My business partner will spend hours, days, weeks balancing the books to a penny. And she loves it. I have not balanced a checkbook for 50 years (nor do I intend to begin now). I know some of you are gasping . . . but I have survived. On the other hand, I “lose it” when I see a spelling/grammar mistake in a publication, on a sign or other public place. To many people it doesn’t matter, for me it is a high blood pressure attack.

So where am I going with this? Nowhere. This blog is the result of too much time on my hands, no where to go, and nothing constructive to do. The world may have shut down, but my mind has gone into overdrive. However, it is food for thought.

Just Writin’ on the River Road

Heroes!

On rare occasion, there is something on television that not only entertains, but peaks my interest and makes me think. Recently I began watching the 3^rd season of “The Crown” on Netflix. It fictionalizes the life of the current English monarchy beginning with Queen Elizabeth’s father. I guess you would call it fact based fiction.

The most recent episode that I watched concerned the overwhelming interest that Prince Philip had in the astronauts and the moon landing in 1969. He was fascinated with every aspect of the space program. He hero worshiped the astronauts. And when they made their world tour following their return to earth, he was beside himself to meet them. So when they visited the queen, he requested a private audience. The meeting was stilted and awkward. Prince Phillip was looking for deep, spiritual answers and was ultimately disappointed to find that they were only simple men. Their tale concerned the business of the mission and they had no deep insight that they could share with him. Interestingly enough, the astronauts thought royal life was much more fascinating than flying to the moon.

All of this lead me to contemplate how often we do this very thing in our own lives. We see movie stars, sports figures, the ultra rich and think they have everything. But do they? Actors act. We may be more enamored of the character they create than the person they are. Or athletes. They do one thing very well, and because of that we honor them with wisdom and insight they don’t possess. We make them heroes in our minds. But what if we really knew them? Would they be what we expect, or would we, like Prince Phillip, be disappointed that they are just ordinary people.

I remember Christopher Reeve playing Superman. He was the ultimate super hero back in the day. The man of steel with x-ray vision and incredible speed. He could save everyone, stop catastrophes, fly into outer space and still be charming and not bad to look at. When I heard he had fallen from a horse and was a quadriplegic, initially it didn’t register. He was Superman. What the heck?? As it turns out, because of his accident, he became a super man of sorts, just not with a blue suit and alien powers. He became the role model for so many people that found themselves in his situation. He faced his infirmity with courage and grace. And in that, he became a real hero.

Why do we have this need to put people on a pedestal? We do it with the military, politicians, Nobel Prize winners, scientists, medical specialists, or leaders of nations. We expect them to have the answers to all of our problems. And when they don’t, we cut them off at the base. They are just people, just like you and me. They have gifts for certain things, they have individual abilities, they are given knowledge to make decisions, but when it is all said and done, they are just people. Why are we so disappointed? What is it that we are seeking? We seem to have a built in need to worship. But to put our faith in mankind will most likely end badly. No person will ever live up to “God” status.

Those who become true “heroes” are generally those who sacrifice for the betterment of others. They never plan to enter a burning building, or rescue someone from danger, or even make their neighborhood better. It is who they are, real people who care. It is those quiet heroes that deserve our gratitude, honor and appreciation.

So before you become disappointed, or even angry, when people don’t live up to your expectations, remember that every single person on the face of the earth does the same basic things that we do; eat sleep, work, play, dream, live, die. Hopefully we can esteem their abilities such as athletics, sciences or ideas, objectively. You can chose who you admire, but be careful who you worship.

Just Writin’ on the River Road

Panic or what?

I am sorry, but does it feel like the world is going to hell in a hand basket??  A few years ago, we would have acknowledged that there was a new strain of flu and gone on with life as usual.  Some would get sick, a few would die (as is common every year), and most of us would have the common sense to stay home if we were sick.  You didn't go to the doctor or hospital unless you were REALLY sick because you didn't want to be around sick people.  Nobody knew what you had, you just hunkered down until you got over it.

Don't misunderstand me, I think this is a very serious strain of the flu that does seem to target those with compromised immune systems.  But I think our over reaction to it is a little ridiculous (aka toilet paper shortage).  I went to the grocery store three weeks ago. You could hardly get down the aisles for shoppers.  Never in my lifetime have I ever seen empty shelves -- forget fresh produce, or canned and frozen food, not to mention paper products.  There were more people taking pictures of the empty shelves than there were shopping!  Me included!  But what I did not see was one cart full of water or toilet paper!  There may be a handful of people out there hording things, but I believe they are a rarity.

Why not focus on those who offer to watch children for people who must work.  The doctors and nurses who are on the front lines.  Or those who deliver meals or groceries.  What about the fire, utility, police and others who must put themselves out there to take care of us?  Or how about neighbors helping each other and sharing what is needed.  I am so blessed to live in a neighborhood where people watch out for one another.  And even though I am a newbie, they still offer to take care of me.  I don't think this is an unusual thing.  Ninety nine percent of people are good, honest, hardworking, helpful, caring individuals.  So why do we only hear about that one percent who are turkeys? 

There are those out there who think they can be self-sufficient.  Did you know you can't buy a baby chick in this town!  People think they will have their own eggs........in 6 months or so, maybe.  I have a friend who sells milk goats.  They, too, are a hot item.  Milk and cheese are great if you can wait a year or more.  People don't think, they just react.   We are fortunate to live in a rural area.  Farming, animals, and gardens are not foreign to us.  We approach it with a modicum of sense.  And some of us have the ability to take care of ourselves.  We may not have shrimp and lobster but we can have steak and eggs.

I don't worry so much about the actual flu.  I worry about being led around by the nose by the "powers that be".  I did not fall off the turnip truck yesterday - - and neither did you.  This has turned into a political war with name calling and accusations everywhere.  People, get over yourselves!  This is a time to come together, to help, not hurt each other. So unless you have a fool proof plan that will cure all diseases and make EVERYBODY happy, quit your griping and do what you can to make things better.  Or better yet, run for office and see how that goes.

Years ago I read a book by Michael Crichton called A State of Fear.  Although it was fiction, the premise as stuck with me over time.  I see it in our society everywhere.  If the masses can be kept in a "state of fear", then they can be controlled.  Look back over the history of this country.  Currently it is the flu, before that global warming, then terrorism, what about AIDS, before that it was over population, how about the ozone scare, remember the fright of nuclear war- -the list is on going.  Throw in a few wars and 911 and the control is pretty much total.  It is meant to keep you in a state of "high emotion" from which come no good decisions.  I am currently in the middle of a Bible study on the 23rd Psalm.   We are seen as sheep, and boy, do I now understand the need for a Shepherd.  Have you ever watched a herd of sheep react to a scary situation?  I rest my case. . .we are sheep.

Do I have a solution for this?  No.  I plan to be wise in  my decision making.  I will not be fearful.  I am going to remain positive.  I plan to help those who need a hand.  I will pray for our government to act with wisdom.  I will do what I can, and life will return to normal sooner or later.  Then we will wonder what all the hoopla was about.  And it will take about 10 minutes to forget it all!

So keep your chin up, a smile on your face, and an offer to help in your heart.  This, too, will pass.

Just Writin' on the River Road