Happy Thanksgiving!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Just Writin’ on the River Road

Conspiracies and such?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Just Writin’ on the River Road

My Life Without . . .

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

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

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

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

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

Just Writin’ on the River Road

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

Just Writin’ on the River Road

The lighter side....

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Just Writin' on the River Road

Same Kind of Different

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Just Writin' on the River Road

Outside the box?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Just Writin' on the River Road