What I did this summer

 So where have I been since last May? The story is long, but here are the highlights. This whole experience has been one giant left turn, but I am still upright, although I may have a few dented fenders. Enjoy a recount of my privately painful, but encouraging summer.

                                                                          ####

I put my hands on the keyboard and let the words churning in my head become tangible things on a sheet of paper. I had no characters, no plot, no dialogue… just words that rolled onto the page. It was easy, fun. The story began, the characters developed, the plot thickened. And then one day I was done. And my creation was buried for a time. Time for it to collect dust and almost become a faded memory. Then one day, when life had shifted into a different shape, I pulled it out and read it. I remember thinking that this wasn’t half bad.

 But what did I know? Like all things we do, a little guidance is helpful. Sometimes a complete education is needed. I needed an education. And I got one. I took a summer class on how to write a novel and it was akin to be thrown off the high dive into the deep end of the pool. They spoke a

 different language, they didn’t pull any punches when it came to critiquing my work, nor were they

short on suggestions. I felt as though my baby was being slowly beaten to death. Ripped apart. Some of it buried, some of it burned. My lovely, flowery descriptions cast aside, my characters shallow, unlikable. Even my setting lacked authenticity. I spent days in shock, unable to sleep, absolutely convinced they were wrong! They had to be, they must be. I fought every idea tooth and nail. What did they know? Well, come to find out, evidently a whole lot more than I did.

 Absorbing a whole new way to do something is like learning a new computer program and installing it in your mind. Restructuring a scene, creating tension, building a high point, creating emotions, it was like mixing together several foreign languages and expecting it to make sense. What do you mean I can’t “tell” you how I feel? “Showing” you is a monumental task. All new skills to be learned. They felt awkward, uncomfortable and definitely not me! It seemed mechanical, methodized, with no room to be creative, no place for my fingerprint. 

But I plunged on. Week after week, I learned a new skill. Week after week I “tried” to apply it. Sometimes I did, other times not so much. Sometimes I got lucky. I wrote, rewrote, edited, read books that were “good” examples, and struggled. I loved Monday nights. And I hated Monday nights. Another class. Another thing to learn. Another gut wrenching week of seeing my baby dismembered. And yet, over the weeks, I saw my characters become deeper, richer. The plot remained much the same, but there were improvements in other areas. Details, subplots, description, tension all began to improve. Perhaps the baby wasn’t dead, just bruised a little and would eventually heal and grow into something more interesting, enticing. Only time would tell.

Once the class was over, I felt as if I had climbed Mt. Everest and was now on the downhill slide. Coming down isn’t easy, it takes care, sagacity, attentiveness…..but it is easier and faster than going up. I now had a few tricks up my sleeve to make the trail easier to transverse. Of course, there are always crevasses and storms to weather, but I am still upright and putting one foot in front of the other. I suppose there is always the chance of being caught up in an avalanche, but with a little vigilance and a lot of wisdom they can be avoided. 

Writing. Creation. Giving birth. It takes work. But protecting my child from the difficulties of life doesn't help him grow into a strong, self-sufficient adult. Each day, I choose to encourage that child to grow, to change, to try something new. There will be scraped knees and bloody noses along the way, each of those experiences lead to changes and new knowledge. Battered and bruised, I plan to corner the market on bandages and fill my battlefield with success.

So the "wanna-be" author is still just that. But maybe someday, someday you will read a "real" book by someone you know. Maybe.

Just Writin' on the River Road

 So, it has been brought to my attention that we need a new vaccine. But then I don’t know that we can vaccinate against stupidity. Those who have already been inoculated with power, authority and wealth seem to have all the answers for the rest of us poor morons who can hardly put one foot in front of the other. We just shuffle through life waiting on baited breath for the next mandate from those who know better concerning just about everything.

I have a solution for our government. Every person who runs for office must spend a year “down on the farm” before taking office. They must wade knee deep in crap, clean barns, deliver calves, cut hay and “man” handle bales, butcher chickens and clean the coop, hoe a garden and all of those very necessary things that we morons do so they can eat! To those who believe we don’t need farms and ranches because we have grocery stores; yup, you need a year on the farm. To those who think the recent pipeline hack would have been no problem if we all had electric cars, try toting your food from the farm to the store in an electric truck! I hope you invest deeply in extension cord stock before this happens. And just where do they think this electricity comes from that powers their clean car?? I am guessing lightening or something equally accessible. Or just maybe it comes from nuclear power plants, or God forbid, coal powered plants. And now, the powers that rule Oregon are trying to make it a “meat free” state. You can only eat something that dies naturally. And we all want steak from a sick or long dead steer. It is no wonder that most of eastern Oregon voted to become a part of Idaho. Or consider Colorado that will not allow artificial insemination of cows or pregnancy checking because it is considered bestiality. Should we neuter our pets? Is that infringing on their rights? Is it better to let them raze the countryside, starving and barely existing as they keep on multiplying? Somewhere there needs to be a line in the sand when it comes to ignorance.

For those of you that are vegetarians, I can make a pretty good argument that plants also “feel”. They sense danger, they fight off insects and disease that can damage them, and it has been proven that they communicate with each other. They are intelligent enough to know they can’t grow through a rock, so they grow around it. Rhodes Scholars, they aren’t… but still. Now, I have no problem with your choice in food, until you insist that I adhere to your diet. And have you ever checked into exactly what ingredients make up your “meatless” burgers? You might want to do that.

Stupid is not a new thing, but it does seem to be rising to the surface now more than ever. At one point in my “careers”, I fed cows in a feed lot. They actually considered feeding plastic chips to the cows for filler. I suspect they intended to recycle it through the next cow at some point. Lots of food value in plastic. Probably a little toxic too. And since it is nearly indestructible, it would have been cheap feed. Fortunately, I don’t think this ever made it to the actual cow. But I could be wrong.

Oh, and one more thing. All elected officials would have to live on minimum wage, learn how to budget or do without, and have no line of credit anywhere. After a year, they may understand what a budget is and how to live with in it. And I suggest they use the “new math” to figure it out. They might gain some practical skills like fixing the plumbing, repairing their clunker car, patching their pants or putting a good day’s work. On a farm or ranch, the day is twenty-four hours long.

I am not picking on any political “party”, but I can not for the life of me understand how we, the people, can elect STUPID over and over. Maybe we truly are little morons that shuffle to work each day and are ever so grateful for all the government does for us. This last little foray into governmental control has proven just how malleable we are. I have heard it said if people hear something over and over for three months, it is pretty much stuck in their brain and no amount of facts or truth can change it. We are living the Stockholm Syndrome on a steroids. Turn off your television and think for yourself rather than being told what to think! I know it is a challenge… but give it a try. Common sense goes a long way.

So what’s for dinner tonight? No beef, chicken or pork, no salads or other veggies, no eggs, no bread, pasta or rice. No cereal or milk. It's a great diet, if it would only sustain us.

Just Writin’ on the River Road

Our Journey in Time

 

“Our journey in time”. That phrase has provided considerable food for thought lately. Think about it. Prior to conception, we experienced no time. After death, there is no time, or at least as we understand it now. That thought can make a person feel either extraordinarily special or totally inconsequential in the grand scheme of things.

We tend to think of time as endless. But is it? It isn’t endless for any of us. We have a certain number of revolutions around the sun laid out and no more. Is time infinite? Or perhaps it is the lack of time that is beyond our understanding. We can only measure that which we experience. We have memories and history that we can  recall from the past, but we can’t change those things. And we hope for a future… but it comes with no guarantees.

So what exactly is “our journey in time”? Is it where we go? Or what do we do? Or how long we live? It’s a conundrum for the most part. Fascinated by the idea of time travel, it would be interesting to see the land as it was before man arrived, to experience all of its natural rawness, or perhaps soak in the perils of the pioneers. Interestingly, my desire to go forward in time isn’t as enticing as the past. Probably because I can’t envision the future. While the past is documented, the future is unknown.

My “journey in time” has been seventy-two years up to this point. Had I realized the trip would be so short, I would have striven for more. I would have filled my life with things that matter early on. Things like faith, family, education, travel, adventure, even fun. Life is much too short for nothing but work. And in the end, most accomplishments will disappear and be forgotten.

Years ago, God’s timing was explained to me as a parade. I can only see what is in front of me. There are memories of what has already passed by, but I can not foresee what is coming. God, on the other hand, views the it from a vantage point high above the parade. He sees it in its entirety… beginning, middle, and end, all in one fell swoop. He operates outside of time. I actually find a great deal of comfort in that.

My remaining time is pocked with fragility. Bodies decay, minds wander, life becomes difficult with the onset of disease and infirmity. Perhaps that is why there is a desire with the elderly for the hourglass to run down and time on this earth to cease. To be free of the constraints that hold us and find a freedom we never knew, or could have possibly understood, looks heavenly.

It is often said that life is short. It’s far too short to measure in any human way. Time on this earth is not even a nano-second in the entirety of the universe. And yet, somehow I was created to make a difference. Will that difference change the world, probably not. But things can change in this “moment of time” that I have been blessed with. Will I create artful masterpieces, or build a business empire, or be the first to leave this planet? Maybe… or maybe not. But perhaps my life will have an impact on someone else. Feeling deeply, loving greatly, sharing profusely without considering the cost, lifting others out of the mire, or maybe providing a guiding light for those who are just now entering into their “moment in time” is a calling. It is a big job, one we have all been given from the day of conception.

How have you spent your “moment in time”? What have you accomplished on your journey? Every day is an opportunity to change your world! Do it! You were born for a time such as this! (Esther 4:14) Make your “journey in time” count!

Just Writin’ on the River Road

 

What if we only made right turns in life? I recently read an article about a person who did just that. Left turns were out of the question, so he drove many extra miles going around blocks so that he would never have to make a left turn. In a weird, convoluted way, I can see a modicum of sense to his strategy. Left turns can be scary. Without a light and little arrows, left turns probably cause more accidents than

right turns.

As I age, left turns are becoming more frightening. They are risky. And while I feel free to take risks with some things, other things are too frightening to tackle head on. And so I make a lot of right turns to get where I want to be. And then, after the fact, I discover what I wanted wasn’t that difficult to access after all. While right turns aren’t the shortest way to get to my destination, they do get me there eventually. Unfortunately, I have wasted cherished time living in fear.

Have you ever tackled what appeared to be an insurmountable mountain because the thing you desired was on the other side? A thing that could not be attained without going over the hill. All the right turns in the world would not ensure arrival to the other side. Somewhere, sometime, it will take biting the bullet and making a hard left to make progress.

Such an experience hit me this week. As some of you know, I have been working on a novel for several years, and I “felt” I was close to getting it published. I submitted a sample to an editor only to have it come back covered in revision marks and some subtle, yet astute, remarks about my writing skill, or lack thereof. “Of course, there is hope for everyone” was the biggest hammer to fall. The bottom line – a rewrite is in order. I spent two days in despair. I cried, wallowed in self-pity, prayed, and then I picked myself up and decided that right turns were getting me nowhere. My only chance was to suck it up and make a left into the middle of rush hour traffic with no lights to save me. Look both ways and charge. This means I will have to change everything! I will have to learn new things, accept others judgment and know how, and go back to the beginning – again. The safety of right turns will not work in this case. Only the risk of a left turn will get me where I want to be.

Left hand turns are hard. It means having to step out, take direction, make choices and learn to fly all over again. A lesson landed in my lap yesterday. My cat brought home a little bird. Fortunately, she never hurts them, but the whole adventure of rescuing the bird was a lesson for me. While not hurt, the little bird lost many feathers in his scuffle with the cat, me, the window and the blinds. He was scared to death. Once I caught him, I could feel his thumping little heart about to burst through his chest. So I gently held him, took him outside and let him fly away. I get it, little bird. I was caught in my own trap (arrogance), I lost a lot of feathers (pride), and then ended up in God’s gentle and secure hand. When the time is right, He will allow me to fly and accomplish all that He intends me to do.

So right or left? That’s a decision we all must make in our lives, probably many times over. When residing in Small-Town, Utah, there was an elderly man who was a driving menace. According to him, he had been turning left at that particular corner for his rather lengthy lifetime. Everyone knew that. Hence there was no reason to use his blinker. A turn signal would have been very helpful to those of us who had not known him since year one! Could there be times when a lack of directional blinkers in my life could affect yours in some bizarre way? It’s possible. Life is filled with mountains and valleys, lefts and rights, ups and downs. The biggest left turn in life is recognizing that it is there, and then we get to choose – the easy road or the one filled with potholes.

So the next time you sit in traffic, consider your driving skills. Not on the road, but in life. Will right turns give you fulfillment and satisfaction? Or are they just safety and refuge from the “what ifs” faced on a daily basis. Do you see left turns as frightening? Or will you choose to slide around the corner on two wheels, missing the other cars, avoiding the ditch and then squeal off toward your destination? Don’t take me literally, but bring it to mind when faced with those difficult decisions in life. Right or left?

Just Writin’ on the River Road

Before you read...

 

DISCLAIMER!! Before you even begin to read this… know that some, or all of you, will be upset because of my opinion. We are all entitled to one, whether we agree or not. This is your opportunity to click the little disconnect button before we even begin, because I intend to vent.

A year ago this week normal died. We were told it would only be weeks, which then turned into months and now for over a year we have lived as if in a private prison. I know that sounds harsh to some, but really, think about it. We have been commanded to accept rules and regulations that have not proven to protect us. People have lost jobs, businesses are closed, schools are on-line and failing our children, those who need people (like all of us) are suffering from issues that could be cured with a family gathering or barbecue. Short of locking ourselves up in our homes and throwing away the key, according to the powers-that-be, we are not safe no matter what we do.

While I am not blaming anyone in particular for this madness, I do believe many have gone off the deep end. It seems to have become a power issue not a health issue. And if there were one truth out there, I might follow it, but the truth changes daily depending on who you listen to or what you read. I used to believe truth was absolute, but in this day and age, there are so many versions of it that I can’t decide which guru I want to follow.

There are those who have made science their god. And while I have no problem with science, in fact I love science, like everything on this earth it needs to be taken with a grain of salt. Science “theories” change daily. That which we once considered true, has now been disproven. The earth is not flat, nor is it the center of the universe. Theories come and go on a daily basis. Proposed “theories” are to be tested to be proven true or discarded if not. Today we just accept the theory as truth without the testing. So, perhaps that which be believe now will also fall out of favor in the future.

Will the day come when it will be said that “we over reacted” to a little protein molecule that has invaded our lives? I am pretty sure it will. In five years – or ten, we will wonder what all the hub-bub was about. We will look back and see that it was never a pandemic, it was people and politics that caused the problem. Most people, given half a chance will do the right thing. They will stay home when they are sick, they will wash their hands, they might even wear a mask.

Science will not save us. We are fearfully and wonderfully made by a creator that has made a body that has cells that can build, fix, fight off, repair and grow our bodies. Unfortunately these bodies were not meant to last forever. They wear out, they get sick, they succumb to death. I suspect no one wants to die but there is no other way out of this world. Yes, we have overcome things such as smallpox, polio and childhood diseases with vaccines. But those medications came after many years of testing. The average vaccine is a “work in progress” for ten to twenty years before it is released, and it still comes with side-effects for some. Having lived with someone who survived the science of chemotherapy, the after effects are long lasting and do much more than destroy cancer.

I struggle with this whole thing. Not so much with Covid, but with society’s reaction to it. Rather than becoming united against a front, we have been quite literally torn apart. Rather than uplifting one another, we tear each other down. We put people in boxes, we give them names, races, genders, economic status… all to separate us. Life is short! Why spend it angry, upset, flailing at windmills. I don’t care about your “box”, I do however have expectations. I expect people to respect one another, I expect them to help and support each other, I expect them to work together. I expect them to act and react with common sense. That can’t be that hard, can it?

Just Writin’ on the River Road

Hope Springs Eternal!

 

A quote from The Essay of Man by Alexander Pope written in 1732, claims that “hope springs eternal”. And it is true. If it wasn’t, the lottery business would be a bust. People will continue to hope, despite the odds. There are times though, when we can be reassured that our hope is not misplaced. Sometimes there is that hint that allows us to be absolutely certain of what the future holds. Take my rhododendron bush, for instance. When we moved in a year ago, I marveled how it remained green in the midst of winter with its leathery leaves shining in the cold. What was really interesting was that it had buds on the end of each stem... in January. Unfamiliar with rhododendrons, I was quite sure those buds would succumb to the cold and snow. But, low and behold, come summer, it had the most exquisite blooms. What was astounding is that those new buds are formed in the fall and spend all winter covered in snow. That little bud remains tightly curled and remains unaffected by the ice and frost.

I want to be that little bud. And, in many ways I am. In those times of darkness and cold, I wrap myself tightly in my little cocoon, knowing that in spite of difficult times, spring will come eventually. And when it does, I will have everything I need to bloom! All this sounds so fanciful, so proverbial, so incredible. And yet it is true. Hope does spring eternal in every heart. Without hope, what would we have? A life of brutal honesty, of pessimism or unfulfilled desires. Without hope, there would be no dreams, no belief, no faith. What a sad world we would inhabit. Without hope there would be little happiness or joy, no laughter, little satisfaction or fulfillment, nothing to look forward to.

Our lives are not like that. Even on our darkest day, when we feel we have reached the end and there is nothing to look forward to, there is always a little sliver of hope. It’s that chance moonbeam on a dark and stormy night, a dew drop clinging to a fresh flower or the song of a bird to lift your heart. Hope. It’s always there. We can lose it, misplace it or kick it up the road, but that doesn’t mean it leaves us behind.

Hope takes a lot of trust. Whether it is trust in your maker, yourself or others… we cling to our hope. Out there are dangerous lands, scary places, unknown terrain and tides of hopelessness. And yet, we always hope, no matter how bad life gets. And for some it can seem nearly hopeless. But it isn’t. It just temporarily feels that way. Life can be a lot of things… exciting, stagnant, passionate, painful… but it is never without hope.

I love the definition of faith from the Bible: “Now faith is being sure of what we HOPE for and certain of what we do not see.” (Hebrews 11:1) It’s kind of difficult to wrap a rope around that and tie it to a post. We have to think a little harder than we are often willing to do. It tells me I can survive on hope. It’s just around the corner, always there somewhere. Maybe I can’t see it today… but maybe tomorrow, or next week or in ten years something will happen. I can be certain that it is always there waiting for me.

With so much uncertainty in the world today, hope is having a difficult time surviving in great abundance. It will. I know it will. Just like my rhododendron bud, it is there, tightly wrapped, covered in snow, patiently waiting for spring to bring life racing through its little body. Hope is my ability to hear the melody of the future, but faith is having the courage to dance to its tune today. So let’s dance!

Just Writin’ on the River Road

What did you get for Valentine's Day?

 

Ah, Valentine’s Day! The day we show our loved ones how much we care about them. How do we do that? Candy, flowers, a special dinner, a night out? Those are all wonderful ways to express our appreciation. What about the rest of the year? Just asking. Shouldn’t there be a little Valentine’s Day each and every day of the year?

I received a Valentine this week. For all intents and purposes, it appeared to be a beautifully wrapped empty box. No candy, no sweet nothings, just an empty box. I was more than a little puzzled until I read the attached note.

Did you look in the box and find it empty?

Was nothing for you there?

Look again. You must have missed it.

For within I placed my prayer.

Little birds called at the window,

The sun peeked in there too.

As I told the Lord I loved Him,

I also spoke of you.

Sometimes when I pray for you

A tear will cross my cheek,

So I pray for peace that passes understanding

To be with you this week.

Other times there is a special joy

That with the Lord I share.

He listens to all I have to say

Whether it’s pleasure or despair.

Then I leave my little quiet place

And begin to start the day,

I’m so thankful for his watchful hand

Guarding me at work and play.

And as surely as He’s here with me,

He’s there with you as well,

‘Cause I asked the Lord to bless you

Just at the morning bell.

So when you look inside again,

Please see this box not bare.

And count it as a priceless gift

‘Cause I filled it up with prayer.

                        LuAnn Hudspeth                                                                                                                                     (Used with permission of the author.)

 

As I read this, it touched my heart. What more could I ever want or desire than someone who cares enough to bring my name before the Lord. She took the time to pray for me! And I have been told that is how we spell love . . . T I M E. Flowers will die, candy disappears, dinners will be eaten . . . but the time we spend with someone will create lovely memories to last a lifetime. So this Valentine’s Day treat your loved one to something special, but make sure you have also given them your time.

And if you are ever so lucky as to receive an empty box wrapped with beautiful ribbon, know that you have received a priceless gift . . . one of love and thought and prayer.

Just Writin’ on the River Road

Save a Drowning Child

 

Two men standing by a river notice a child struggling to stay afloat, so they dive in to save him. Then they see a second child in the river and a third. One of the men continues saving children, but the other rushes to the shore and runs up the bank. When asked where he was going, he responds that he’s headed up stream to stop the guy who is throwing kids into the river. (Dan Heath, Duke University.)

I confess when I read this little parable, I was pulled up short. It was almost like a slap in the face. This is the theme of this world we live in. Fix the immediate problem, but not the cause of the problem. I see it everywhere. The medical community hands you a pill to relieve your symptom. The welfare system gives out food to fix an immediate need. The political system is concentrated on making everybody happy to get their vote. At some point, we are going to have to figure out why we have these problems in order to fix them.

Operating Twelve Baskets (our non-profit ministry) has been an eye opener for me. We began by generously fixing everyone’s immediate needs. And then it became apparent that there were those who returned repeatedly for help. Obviously we were not fixing the problem. So we became more discerning, asked more questions, offered different options and our requests for help diminished. Not that we don’t want to help people, for that is our purpose, but we had to decide if we were helping or were we enabling. What became abundantly clear was that most people did not want to be accountable. They did not desire financial planning, budgeting lessons, help finding a job . . . they just wanted the bill paid. Our focus changed at some point in ten years. We now offer things that can help people out of their hole. And those things take work, effort, and willingness to change. Sometimes it means saying no. That makes us look heartless. We are not. We genuinely want the best for people. But we can’t do it for them. We want to fix the problem so they won’t find themselves struggling in the river. We want to teach them to fish rather than handing them a fish.

We have built a society around entitlement. Bottom line is that none of us are entitled to anything. We work, earn a living, save our money, have retirement put away, maybe some savings . . . things to get us through life. These things have been earned with blood, sweat and tears. Yes, bad things happen that are out of anyone's control . . . those are the times when a hand “up” is necessary, a helping hand so they can get back on their feet.

How do we change this world? How do we forsake the drowning child and go up stream to fix the problem? I wish I knew. In a world of instant gratification, there is very little planning or focusing on the future, there is only “now”. And literally “now” is all we have, but that is no reason to not dream, plan or hope for things that will improve our lives. Work hard, seek an education, put forth effort to improve your situation; don’t spend your life as the one who is continually being pulled out of the river. Eventually you are going to drown in the process. Think about it!  Are you helping or enabling?

Just Writin’ on the River Road

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