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