Meet ya on the back Porch

What image does your mind conjure when you think of the wood shed? Could it be one of dread? Many individuals of my generation will equate the wood shed with punishment. How about the kitchen? In your mind is it strictly a place where meals were prepared or is it a time for sharing the events of your day? Did you grow up with a back porch?
I saw a meme the other day that said “all the worlds problems can be resolved by sitting on the back porch shelling peas with Grandma.”
For many the front porch and door was for company while the back for family. If you had a multigenerational home you had the benefit of an extra set of ears to listen and arms to embrace on a bad day. Grandma could tell if you were struggling or hiding something. You learned to show your true self to her. She saw through you anyway. But the “you” shown to visitors or company wasn’t always true.
I fear we’ve lost the wisdom of a fading era. Where the young learned respect for and from their elders. Things like work ethic, morals and putting your best foot forward. We’ve lost that back porch of connectivity to remind us to be honest–to ourself as well as others and that place to run to when your heart was broken.
Is there a back porch to your heart? Do we trade the morally sound mind for the corporately displayed heart? Pushing, pushing until those things held dear are affixed to the back porch door while living the shallow and selfish heart dweller is out front. Dare we trade the wisdoms of the elders for whatever is popular at the moment.
I can think back to when story lines for shows and movies were basically surrounding one race, class and economic demographic. Remembering the buzz when the first show had an African American cast member. Then it seemed every network had to clone the formula. Commercials climbed on the bandwagon and over the years it’s expanded. I hadn’t given it much thought until not long ago an obviously biracial family were featured in an ad for Cheerios. Why this caused some to rethink the concept of “wholesome” that those tasty toasted oh’s represented was insanity.
Similar comparisons have had misplaced concerns. When same sex partners began appearing as regular cast members on sitcoms, dramas and ads many members of the clergy began campaigns to boycott advertisers. I’m not dictating morality–its not my responsibility to be the moral compass for the world. My point is simply this, if we allow the media to bear the sole responsibility for what we expect our children and grandchildren to learn about morality then we’ve abdicated our role. You see, we adults can change the channel, tune out or ignore what’s represented in the media–news, social or any other outlet, while leaving our children no safe ground. It’s no wonder they have become confused in the process.
I am proud of the strong women my daughters have become and the example they are for their own families. As a grandparent I use opportunities to teach my grandchildren the same lessons I taught their parents. Respect for authority. Honesty. Integrity and Love. That hate and violence are never the answer, and that all lives matter–from the unborn to those nearing their journey’s end–and everyone in between. You may choose to disagree. I’m not responsible for what you believe. BUT if you choose to push your agenda on my grandchildren I will take action.
Maybe the meme had it right after all. We need more of Grandma, back porches and shared productivity, and less attention focused on what others think.

 

My Aha Moment

Have you ever struggled with a concept or a relationship that just seemed like you were the only participant ? There comes a time when you have to decide if your contribution is worth the effort. The underpaid employment opportunity that never panned out to the promises. You believed the travel agent only discovering the vacation came no where near the hype.
When danger is immanent we protect what we value. Yesterday’s tornado revealed what the folks in my building valued…pets and pet food including bottled water and potty pads were taken to the lowest level to weather the storm. Later, after the danger had passed, cel phone messages were answered letting family and friends know their status.
My “aha” moment came as I, unable to make it to the designated downstairs safe zone remained the soul person on the third floor…and had not been missed. It was a sobering thought. Of course family, local and afar, were aware I was safe. Yet. I did some deep thinking in the hours that followed about my priorities.
Today I’m still recovering from the back injury that sidelined me yesterday. Doing some reevaluating from my comfy couch. I have had one visitor today and she was seeking chocolate. No, she hadn’t realized I wasn’t in the safe zone yesterday…but can be forgiven since she’s blind.
So a little battle weary I continue living and loving the journey…just a little wiser. Perhaps the road ahead is about to turn.

Don’t Cry Over Spilt…COFFEE!

It had been a difficult night. Finally, after claiming a few short hours of sleep I welcomed my morning dose of caffein. Loading my coffee maker with water and the appropriate amount of coffee I stepped into the living room to continue chatting with a neighbor. This has been my routine first thing most every morning. I welcomed the first aromatic scent of the fragrant brew. You can imagine my surprise at discovering the entire contents of my morning brew rapidly spreading all over the kitchen counter descending to the floor. You see I had all the elements of my morning beverage–unfortunately, I neglected to place the cup under the spout. It’s like that meme, “Now that I finally got it together I don’t know where I put it.”
Luckily my coffee maker only brews a single (large) cup at a time and my neighbor and I had it cleaned up rather quickly. It was only a matter of a few minutes before I had a fresh cup of coffee. I refused to let the incident define my day but it’s doubtful I will make that mistake again.
How often have you made the effort to take care of a life issue but fallen short of success because you failed to follow one piece of instruction? The lavish dinner you planned but forgot to defrost the main dish. How about starting the washing machine and forgetting to load in the laundry? My mother-in-law admitted to making the most beautiful looking Lemon Meringue Pie but by forgetting to put the lemon in made it rather tasteless.
Our lives are made up of life lessons. What we do with those lessons determines the outcome. Some will spend so much effort trying to be perfect that they accomplish very little and are never satisfied. Others play the game of claiming someone else is responsible, its never their fault. The most damaging are those individuals that live their lives looking back. By keeping their focus on yesterdays calamity they never learn to live for today. My friends and fellow travelers I encourage you to live loving the journey to the fullest every day. Stop crying over spilt coffee.

Are you in a RELATIONSHIP with your Toothbrush?

I find myself trying to explain how I make decisions based on my relationship with God and how it compares to a religion about God. As my followers can attest–anything is fair game to a writer. That said…

There has been much debate about the term “religion” in the role of its followers. Jihad extremist’s violent attacks, suicide bombers, self denial. Even the peaceful protest for the unborn all claim a sense of spiritual direction from their leader to do what they do in hopes of being “good enough” to receive blessings from God.

I pose the question Do you brush your teeth every day and if so Why? Most will respond a resounding YES! Of course you do–and think everyone should. You have encouraged your children to brush diligently every day. (One might say you brush your teeth “religiously.”) Not in a desire to please the all powerful Tooth God with blind obedience. You prefer the outcome of your actions (fresh breath, strong teeth, bright smile, their role in speaking clearly) to the actions of not brushing (decay, lose, pain) Brushing your teeth every day is a habit–a very good habit. One you cultivate because you desire a good result. Does this mean you are in a relationship with your toothbrush? Of course not. Your adherence to the rules of proper dental health care is to receive/avoid a specific outcome.

Many individuals serve their God in much the same manner…obedience out of habit or fear of retaliation. Activities like church attendance, prayer, self denial, behavior modifications all performed because they have been taught to obey or face damnation. I know I did. For years I did all the “right” things living on a form of Christian autopilot. I knew all the songs, read the scriptures every day, prayed before bed and meals and for the lost…all the while hoping for the promised outcome for my obedience. And I did it so well I convinced myself it was the only way to live. Yet it lacked sincerity and joy. Even though I had risen to the rank of a licensed preacher I was a fraud

To remedy this I had to start all over, reevaluate motive, question every action. It was imperative I remove myself from the “churchy” situations–it would have been so easy to slip back into old habits. Only by breaking those habits was I able to establish an honest relationship with God.

Today, my choice to be part of the Christian faith is not one made out of fear but love. I no longer feel obligated to embrace every aspect of church life. I have a relationship with my loving God. I have fellowship with Him through prayer. I praise Him openly and often and I know HE is with me on my journey. My friends, stop the struggle. Live loving the journey and every time you brush your teeth use that time to thank God for his willingness to have a relationship with you.

Finding Comfort

Happy New Year! My new year has started off with a resounding BANG!!! And not from the anticipated midnight fireworks. Rather in the form of an emergency appendectomy. Which is how I find myself now with a plethora of new blog material while recuperating in a Texas hospital.
Day three post operative has afforded me the opportunity to observe and compare several differing nursing philosophies and styles.. the seasoned veteran of the profession provided a glimpse at how everything worked together especially when starting a new IV proved problematic. Trying to tame the IV pump seeming to manufacture its own bubbles provided multiple parties the chance to show their expertise each time the wail of the machine sounded.
Male to female, young or mature, trainee to seasoned, I’ve had them all. Regardless the status each with the same goal–that of assisting my body in the healing process.
One particular participant, a trainee from outside the US proved interesting. Her attention to detail aided by the many notes she used made very sure I was stable before standing and had an adequate amount of space to move about before leaving me to stand alone. We chuckled together at the foibles and faux pas as she learned the ropes of patient care. Her repeated query as to my “comfort” had me mystified until I realized she was asking if I needed to use the bathroom. Suddenly it made sense. She had no frame of understanding of the room designated as a place to relieve oneself of urine other than to consider its ability to comfort an overly full bladder.
Consider that we often refer to said room as a “bathroom” yet not to bathe, a “restroom” in which we do not rest or by a male nomenclature.
I hope as we commence our journey in a new year we might all find a sense of comfort. Comfort at the knowledge the year has no baggage, offers the opportunity to start fresh and brings with it joy of new beginnings. Keep humor close at hand as I most certainly will at least for awhile each time I enter my “comfort room.” Live loving the journey, my friends, and smile.

Memories

There is appointed a time for all to die, yet it still manages to catch us by surprise or at the very least unprepared when those we love make that final journey. For those who have yet to experience the death of someone close to heart—there is no formula to suddenly know how to grieve. Death is inevitable, loss is loss and everyone grieves in their own way.
The woman lay so very near death. Her journey had been one with tremendous joy and love but not without struggle. Disease fought hard to rob her of her joy…and often succeeded. Yet love covers a multitude of wrong. Hiding in the shadow of the disease—a death sentence no one would ever choose if given the choice. Robbed of physical control she fought to maintain her grasp on every thought.
Privy to her thoughts for a period of time I consider myself blessed to have known her. To know she loved deeply, appreciated much and feared the end more than any other specter–not in the sense of the finality death brings but for the toll it would take on her family.
The time neared and it seemed as if her worst fear was now a reality…body and mind ravaged yet with the knowledge that her care was a heavy burden. She often prayed that her end would come quickly so as to lessen the duration for those she loved…it did not.
Her breathing shallow family members gathered to say good bye—thankful she is at least resting free of pain. The vigil begins. Though death was near, her end allowed for a respite. Jamaican’s call this “traveling” as a loved one lingers. The mind recalls every happy moment to relive it once more—to return at the completion full circle. Only then will body and soul part company to be reunited with those who have gone before. For her a husband, a son, parents long gone.
Socrates is quoted as saying “Death may be the greatest of all human blessings.” Yes, those who remain grieve for their loss but not for her release of pain. Her young great grandson—perhaps too young some might believe to grasp what was happening, is already well versed. He has been here before. His prayer a final farewell, “Jesus, God… thank you for taking my Grammy to Heaven to be with Grampy and thank you for leaving her ashes here for us.”
Ashes to ashes, Dust to Dust. The time of remembering shared. Memory stones containing ashes of the pair were incorporated into each stone. Stories were shared amid laughter as jazz tunes played in the background.
The celebration had come to a close…the plan was to launch lanterns set afire to rise, soaring on the winds releasing the grief of those who remained. One went soaring as if to lead the way and the earth behind…the second faltered —then burst into flame as if to say, “I will not be quenched. My fires will always remain in the hearts of loved ones.”
Yes, Grammy was feisty and stubborn. As I watched the lantern burn I was reminded of the fire that burned inside this woman. She left a legacy and wanted her friends and offspring to know she was still keeping an eye on them and so they better behave. I imagine on every birthday as candles are set ablaze, thoughts will turn to Grammy and smile.

Hello, Operator?

Remember when as kids “telecommunication” meant 2 cans and a string? Today’s tots are more tech savvy at smart phone operation than many adults. I readily admit my 9 year old grandson is more adept with his tablet functions than I am with mine.

Communications has changed so drastically over the course of a generation. There are 2 former telephone operators living in my building. BOTH were of the “plug and cord connection era” and I am not speaking of a new plug and play device to load on your laptop. I imagine them more as the fictional “Sarah,” of Mayberry fame…you remember, the operator Sheriff Andy was always asking to connect him to the sheriff’s office or maybe Aunt Bea—or the satirical “Ernestine” with her snorts of laughter and witty remarks form “Laugh In” fame. Yes, things have changed.

Speaking with both of these women recently I discovered, one had the distinction of being the final operator to ask, “Number please” before the final switch to automation arrived in this small town. The other had been an operator in Ft Worth. She shared her account of working the switchboard the day President Kennedy was assassinated. It was a day she will never forget. Even with the added trunk line designated to the presidential entourage the operators could not keep up with the call demands that day and the days that followed.

These women, and others like them, were the backbone of all spoken information exchanges. They were the calm voice when a harried first time dad dialed O for operator and announced, “My wife is having a baby!” The voice of information before there was an “Information Super Highway”—a term now nearly archaic. If you were looking for someone and didn’t know the phone number you simply dialed the operator and asked for the information. Later, the 4-1-1 designator, saved a step in the process as the answering operator asked for the city and state you were calling and redirected the call.

We live in an increasingly impersonal society. Call just about any major company and the first auto-answer directs you to choose the language you prefer the auto prompts to spout. It’s frustrating to get caught in an auto response loop making it impossible to resolve your issue. Recently I made a call and nearly dropped the phone when a “live” operator answered. I shared my enthusiasm with her and she laughed…”I get that a lot”

Technology has improved many things…made our lives easier. Yet, I can’t help but wonder if we have done ourselves a disservice by removing the human factor. I will admit I need people around me at times but I’m just a guilty of fading into oblivion staring at my phone or tablet reading comments made. And yep, some of those are from friends living in my building and only an elevator ride away. Guess I will have to add some face time to my “To Do List” which, incidentally is located in my smart phone. I’m a work in progress traveling on this journey.

What are you Selling?

Attended my first auction and managed to be outbid on every item I wanted. This was probably a good thing as the proceeds were for a local need and very worthy cause. It being my first experience has of course become blog fodder.

I was fascinated by the barkers lyrical cadence as he grabbed the attention of the good folks looking to support the cause.

“Now wouldn’t you just love to have this bath combo? Smells good and hey it IS Saturday night.”

He pointed out the unique qualities in order to interest the buyers. Once the bidding started it was competitive as one out bid the next as if daring the others to up the bid.

In another room items were set up for a silent auction. Each item had a bid sheet where you wrote an amount and your name, etc. Checking back I noticed an item I had bid on had a competitor. No sooner had I upped my bid than the other bidder DOUBLED the bid. I laughed and conceded. She shared how a hard to shop for friend admired the item and would soon have a birthday. She was definitely claiming the item at any cost. And so the evening went. Wanting to do my part in supporting the cause I managed to claim an item and cheerfully paid the cashier at the auctions end.

Society today is doing a great job of “selling” us on a concept. Years ago it was ads for cigarettes—always showing young, fit and beautiful models pleasantly puffing away as if to imply you too could be this young looking fit and beautiful if only…(Of course we all know what a lie that was.) So I ask, what are you selling?

Perhaps you are putting yourself out there for the highest bidder…advertising only the attributes you believe are in demand. Hey, you smell good and it’s Saturday night. Maybe you are silently on the fringe hoping SOMEONE will notice you and make an offer. Are you on the shelf assuming there is no market for what you have to offer—afraid of rejection?

Overhearing a conversation about an item being heatedly bid on I had an epiphany. The item was a single pecan pie made by a friend’s mother-in-law. It sold for a price any caterer would salivate over. His remark, “It’s worth every penny too—though I get it free.”

You see value isn’t necessarily tied to the price tag. Whether the pies were lovingly prepared for a family gathering, funeral repast of a lost friend or donated to be sold to the highest bidder for a worthy cause… it was still the same pie.

All too often we find ourselves with a “finger I one too many pies” spreading our time, talents and energy on wasted causes. You have value—don’t sell yourself short. Don’t remain on the shelf or silently hoping to be noticed then sulk and complain you are alone.

Yes, you have value. Finding the right relationships means risk taking. Yes, there will be those who entice you into giving of yourself—only to dismiss you later when you fail to meet their expectations. Yes, there will be those who have no clue of your real value—and those who will do whatever it takes to appreciate your worth. You will always be you—as God created you to be. Regardless of the packaging, everyone has value to someone. My advice…wait for and go home with the right bidder. Live loving the journey.

SOLD!

The auctioneer stepped up to the podium. Spoke into the microphone, his hand and voice trembled,

“I have been blessed to serve this community and surrounding area for 50 years.”

He noted the many unknown faces and how there was a time he knew everyone who attended the sales…now only a few remained. It was time—this would be his final auction… the gavel and quick tongue was being handed off.

He began strong—quickly dispatching a few items. As the evening wore on his throat becoming dry he apologizes with a bit of levity.

“I think I may have swallowed a bug.”

His voice gravely at times, yet he pushed on bid after bid.

“Come on folks,” he encouraged. “This is a worthy cause…who will give me 50?”…paddles raised—“That’s more like it…50, now make it 60.”

On and on…interjecting bits of knowledge he had gleaned from years of knowing his people. Some I am sure employed his skills out of necessity in times of great need. He has witnessed people at their lowest but also at their most generous I am sure.

The crowd was thinning—“we’re losing ‘em.” He intones to a spotter…nearly through. Then I watched amazed. The final item left to sell…2 one pound bags of shelled pecans. Now, Texans love their pecans—but they love their people more. Higher and higher the bid rose. I’m not exactly sure of the figures as they flew fast and furious. I know one bid was $50 a bag. SOLD! Then remarkably the purchaser shouts…

“Sell ‘em again!”

He did! 3 times! Each purchaser paying more than the previous bid and returning them to the man to sell again. I’m not familiar with auctions to know if this was “normal” but from the reaction of the crowd I think not. Perhaps it was the desire to add more to the success of the overall fund raiser…or maybe it was to delay the end of an era. To give the man behind the microphone one last bang of the gavel, one final SOLD. Regardless the motivation, I found it remarkable.

My friends, wherever you may be in your journey—just beginning, coasting along, facing adversity or seeing the end in sight. I encourage you not to sell yourself short. You are worth more than the wealth of the world to your maker. Don’t squander opportunities and don’t give up too soon. Hang on and live loving the journey.

Reading Between the Lines

My 7 year old niece, Bea, learned to read recently. She is often practicing her new communication skills by writing notes to Mom showing how much she has learned. One day Bea read the warning printed on a discarded plastic bag and was heard remarking—“It’s a good thing I can read so I know not to mess with these.”

Imagine if life came with warning labels: DON’T even THINK of doing that! WARNING!! Bad investment!! Continued Participation in this relationship may be toxic and hazardous to your health! What about instructional labels: For best results Handle with care, Gentle Cycle ONLY! Or the expiration date that validates the termination of an unhealthy relationship.

Life’s best lessons are learned by experience—not labels. Besides if there were such labels there is no guarantee people would bother to read them. Would Bea have learned not to play with plastic bags if she were a nonreader? Of course she would—that is where supervision and education play a major role. As parents and grandparents we do our best to be good examples of what is right and just. We share the wisdom gained by our own personal life lessons.

But perhaps Bea is on the right track after all…motivational speakers have long taught the habit of reading positive reminders on a daily basis. Beyond the Post-it Notes on the bathroom mirror to remind you to SMILE, Think Positive, or that You Can Do It slogan. Reading between the lines can change your outlook and improve your attitude when you realize how much truth is found there. Live loving the journey my friends and growing better every day.