Spit it OUT!

While perusing the hair care aisle of the Health & Beauty Dept at Wal-mart I spied a product I didn’t think was still manufactured. Not that I ever really knew the purpose of Brylcreem beyond the old ad slogan, “a little dab will do ya.” But there it was right next to VO5 and an assortment of other products used to tame the wildest tresses.

Seeing the tube did remind me of an incident involving the product. It seems one busy morning amid getting breakfast consumed and children off to school with clean faces and fresh breath someone mistook the tube of Brylcreem for tooth paste. Aside from both products being dispensed from a tube the two products had nothing in common. Imagine the surprise that followed applying the pea size amount of paste on the brush. Instead of the bubbly, minty, refreshing sensation foaming over your tongue you got… Brylcreem.

I don’t presume to know just what it TASTED like but I imagine the texture was a kin to brushing your teeth with lard. Are there other areas of your life when you have expected one thing only to wind up with a mouth full of Brylcreem? Whether your plans fell flat, a friend disappointed you, a promised promotion never materialized or life just hasn’t turned out the way you thought it would…let me give you some advice. Spit it OUT! Don’t swallow all the nonsense by holding it inside. Get rid of the negativity, the lingering feelings of doubt, mistreatment, worthlessness or the anger at what might have been. Replace the after taste of a mouth full bitterness—or Brylcreme, with something new. Try something different—become a better person for it. The next time you reach for that tube of toothpaste—SMILE and be thankful it isn’t Brylcreem.

Proving a lack…

With the economy the way is has been of late I, like many other Americans, have found myself in a position of need. Perhaps you too are finding it necessary for the first time ever to avail yourself of Government programs. First off the shock of how much information is required—one application was 18 pages long. I diligently filled every box—even the *not required ethnicity questions. When it began asking questions about my expenses and income I had to leave much of the form blank. I had no residence—no mortgage or rent or even a current address, no utility bill, no cable or phone, no taxes and no insurance. I own no car—no insurance, no payment, no maintenance, no tags and no fuel. I am a widow living alone—no dependents, no child care, no live in lover, sibling or aging parent. I possess no assets, only what I carry with me…and the hardest thing, how to prove this.

How does one prove lack? The agency asked for a current tax form—I had none—since my husbands death I have had no income and no reason to file a tax return. For the past 3 years I have bartered my life skills in return for living arrangements. Even my current address is a hotel—paid for by a local charity. The single employment I have on record lasted 2 days resulting in an injury for which worker’s compensation is currently supplying medical care. I lack everything yet can prove nothing.

I wish I could put a positive spin on this and say how loved I am—how my children have stepped up and taken care of me. I suppose they have their reasons for failing to do so—not that this is how they were reared. So here I sit, waiting on a government agency to determine if I can prove my lack.

Thanksgiving is 2 days away. With friends and family dutifully documenting their daily thankful thoughts all month…I have not followed suit. Whether pain or depression or some other cause, I can’t bring myself to be glad for the situation I am in. I have no doubt this feeling will pass. It always does. I know all the scriptures, the “right” things I would tell someone in my position. Somehow this time feels different. I’m not the best person at asking for help. I’m injured in pain and for the first time in many years I feel absolutely alone in the world.

Celebrating Life’s “Firsts”

Family photo albums for generations have been filled with snap shots and notations of baby’s first activities. In this age of digital cameras it seems every aspect of baby’s first events are documented. Take enough snapshots and you can tell the story of a life. Most even have a first photo from the womb to add to the first tooth, first haircut, first steps and first special days—and not just for the firstborn. (By the time I came along at number six I was lucky to have any photographs—I believe there are a total of 2.)

I am blessed with daughters who keep me informed of the many firsts in the lives of my grandchildren—from mastering bike riding to donating their ‘locks for love’ milestones are noted and shared across the miles. At a moment I can see the smile sans a lost tooth or the long distance hugs in outstretched arms.

Our lives are filled with so many other “first” experiences. No they may never be photographed but have their part in leading us to the next level of our maturity. First friendships, first crush, first kiss, first dance, first heartache, first disappointment—some firsts are hard but necessary.

Choosing to marry as a teen and have my daughters within the first years of my marriage allowed for gaps in my first experiences. For example I have never lived alone, I have few friendships outside of married friends, never ordered in a restaurant and eaten alone. Even sitting in a movie theatre alone holds a bit of fear for me. Until very recently I had never shopped alone—hard to believe but my late husband actually enjoyed shopping for groceries. We did everything together and it provided a perfect backdrop for me to remain secure in my comfort zone.

There are some things we are never prepared to face. Losing a spouse whether following a long illness or a sudden death is life changing. Not having my husband around has forced me to face some of my demons. Though I doubt it is as simple as having a “do over” I do hope to discover a deeper meaning in my life.

Last week I decided to go out alone. I went to a movie theatre—another first. In line I met two elderly women who were having difficulty hearing the ticket seller. After assisting them they went on their way. Stepping up to the window I noticed one had left behind a wallet. I knew which movie they were seeing so I offered to return it. Once inside I ordered popcorn and a drink and headed to the appropriate theatre. I stood staring at the closed door a moment—wondering how in the hell I was going to navigate opening the door. About that time a gentleman realizing my dilemma, graciously offered to open the door. I thanked him and was surprised to have him sit next to me in the nearly empty theatre. It wasn’t long before the 2 women I had met in line entered—I got up and handed them the wallet I had found. Would you believe they took up the 2 seats on the other side of me??

I enjoyed the movie—not because it was necessarily a great film. The realization that I’m not really alone anywhere was freeing. This knowledge perhaps will help me navigate as a single and as I tackle some other ‘firsts’ only time will tell.

The next time you are faced with a new experience I trust that you won’t be as timid as I. It has taken me a great deal longer to get where I am—I still have a long way to go, but hopefully I’m making great time on this journey. There is no rehearsal or do over in life, make the most of all the “firsts” along the way of your own journey.

The Unanswered Why

My late father in law had a saying… “a person can get used to hanging—if they hang long enough.” In other words, one can become accustomed to endure just about anything over time. It is all a matter of conditioning. It is the cornerstone of just about every cult—blind obedience without question. Most certainly not the question of why.

My involvement as a child in a group made up almost exclusively of adults has come under scrutiny of late. From age ten to seventeen, I adhered to a code of conduct attached to membership in a traveling music ministry. The clothes I wore—down to my undergarments, my hair style, make-up were all of their choosing. I faced a critique at every turn.   No one in the group was permitted to attend dances, go to movies, use profanity, consume alcohol and a host of other rules to maintain membership.

From the moment I was accepted into the group I was told to look, act, speak—even think like the rest of the adult members. Although I was only ten most of the members thought I was older. As a result if I responded to something in a truly age appropriate manner I was berated—I learned to adapt, comply and deny. So ingrained was the concept of obedience to the message and method of the church that it resulted in unquestioned following blind, deaf and dumb. Never challenging the precepts or the leadership.

This was legalism at its best. Adherence to a code of conduct with no thought to why is no more than brain washing. I must point out that I never felt coerced or forced into this life style. I was presented with one and only one way of believing. They alone determined my world view and it was very narrow. Never questioning their precepts I listened only to their view of what was acceptable. Given vocal training and the opportunity to travel, singing in many different areas made me feel as though they were doing me the greatest favor. Unfortunately it also began a pattern of behavior that colored the next forty years of my life. By having every decision made for me during those formative years I never learned to think for myself. Every aspect of my life was based on my continued adherence to the code learned as a child. A child who never had the luxury of being a child—childish behavior so frowned upon I dared not give in to the behavior. Skipping the preteen and teenage angst I married a man 7 years my senior and became the wife of a minister who perpetuated the obedience without question role. Only now it was my husband who called all the shots. I convinced myself it was the ‘right’ thing to do—comply and deny there was a problem. Regardless of my own happiness I followed the code—guarded my tongue, did all the right things, didn’t smoke, didn’t drink and dutifully read the scriptures every day…never questioning why.

I lived my life on ‘auto pilot.’ Confessing this now there are those who will argue it wasn’t so. I was very good at just about anything I chose to do—the secret being I never attempted anything I didn’t feel confident I could ace. Staying firmly in my comfort zone I drifted along a robot for decades.

Then came the day my husband died suddenly. The events that followed threw me so far out of my comfort zone that I had no choice but to reexamine my life. His death forced me to face the unanswered ‘why.’ For more than 3 decades I lived my life according to my position as the wife of a minister. Without the parameters defining my role I was lost. Upon closer examination I discovered I didn’t know why I believed what I had embraced for so long.

For a period of time I didn’t embrace anything that I could not prove. Tucking away my worn and faded Bible I chose to resist reading solely out of habit. Putting aside every preconceived notion of my past life I set out to experience everything. I discovered there was so much more to life than what my narrow worldview permitted.

Seeing for the first time how legalistic my views had been was shocking for me. Asking myself why at every turn I embarked on a quest to live the abundant life while finding peace with God.

It would be a full year before I felt confident to pick up God’s word again and claim His promises for me. Promises that were never tied to my choice of verbage, mode of dress, alcohol consumption or the company I kept.

Today I feel closer to God than I have ever felt. Confident in God’s love for me I no longer feel compelled to abstain from activities out of a sense of duty to earn that love. Comfortable in my position before God He alone is my judge. My behavior has drawn criticism from a few. Overwhelmingly I have felt encouragement and an outpouring of compassion. For those who dislike the ‘me’ I have become I simply state that I am who I was destined to be—I merely had to course correct for a path begun out of fear. It is not my responsibility to live up to their ideal or expectations. Why do I feel this way—you may be asking yourself for clarity in your own walk? Why indeed, is the best place of all to start—journey well my friends and never stop asking why.

Smart Phones and Diminishing Intellect

For some time now I have felt the technology of a smart phone was in fact making us less intelligent. Einstein is quoted as making a similar prediction when he said:

“I fear the day when the technology overlaps with our humanity. The world will only have a generation of idiots.”

I no longer learn phone numbers—I just hit the SAVE to contacts function on the phone. To relay a request or make an inquiry of someone instead of calling I simply text them—a friends mother unable to text herself is known to call a text-ing family member and ask them to text someone for her. If I am waiting for an email I don’t need to be at or even near my laptop—my smart phone will alert me to all incoming mail. No coupon clipping just flash your e-coupon at the register. Need a way to store your schedule? It will do so and even remind you of those appointments. I have information at my fingertips and a built in GPS (which my followers will realize is lost on me.)

A friend dropped her phone and was frantically trying to recover the lost data—her new smart phone is now sporting a colorful, protective case much like the colorful bike helmet my granddaughter wears to protect her head while cycling. There is even a service where one can upload their information so it is always retrievable.

However recently I discovered my smart phone could not only anticipant my next text and prompt me in the spelling—it could even determine when I needed a break. It seems in connecting me with friends, family and others in an instant, it decided I had too much on my mind and curtailed all incoming data. And it was correct!

After a particularly difficult day and a barrage of text messages that frazzled the mind we both shut down. It was possible to initiate communication—but no returning comments were delivered. Two days went by before I realized I was not receiving any messages, emails or texts. With two days to regroup my thoughts and overcome my anxiety I began the task of restoring functionality to my smart phone. Several calls to tech support and hours of manually deleting data from the phone finally saw my phone in working order.

It was a mystery to the tech support team as to how it happened—smart phones are smart enough to warn you when you are getting close to the limits. The best hypothesis was that the marathon of flying messages, emails and updates that were being received by the phone rapidly exceeded the internal memory of the device. Thus causing a failure in storing anything. In fact it was so low on memory that it couldn’t even convey the message telling me it was full.

My theory is that a greater power than the smart phone decided I was on overload and simply allowed the phone to glitch in order for me to have time to mend. Once rested my mind focused on only those things that needed resolving—choosing to respond to a small percentage of the 60+ missed messages. Rebooting the device once all the extraneous information was deleted was a quick and easy fix.

If only it was as easy to repair individuals. While the downtime proved beneficial it is impossible to fully delete those things that are at odds within us. The harsh words spoken, the misunderstandings, the toll of grief and disappointment can’t be erased by a good nights sleep. Time has a way of softening the wounds but the scars remain. Just like the shards of my friends shattered smart phone in so many pieces. Relationships are not so easily replaced.

Classified Personal

Lost Trust—if found return to owner of broken heart—bruised by disappointment and betrayal, this model may have lost all ability to feel. If given a good home may one day learn to love. Low mileage, shows little wear and tear, maintenance requires little attention to survive. Has proven track record in a variety of hostile environments—adapts quickly. Unfortunately has factory defect of failing to see deception thus requiring routine damage control. Take possession “as is” “whereas” parts may be missing. No refund no return. Only serious shoppers please. Permanency desired. Best Offer or FREE to good home.

The Woeful Tale of Daisy Bear

Children have enjoyed a long time fondness for their stuffed toys. Regardless of whether Teddy Roosevelt was or wasn’t the inspiration, Teddy bears lend us a level of security that has no comparison. There is just something special about cozying up to your favorite bear on a scary dark night that makes everything a little less scary and a little less dark.

For Jaiden Elyse age, 6, it was Daisy Bear. She was her all time favorite. Created especially for her by Auntie Jackie, Daisy was quite the adventurer as she went wherever the little girl traveled. Over time her bright yellow fur was showing signs of wear—but she still rode shotgun with her human counterpart. Then one day it happened…just as Jaiden was showing Daisy the scenic view from the car window—out she flew. One would think the yellow bear had sprouted wings. As luck would have it the traffic was rush hour fast so there was no opportunity to retrieve the toy. To say Jaiden was crushed would be an understatement,

“But Daisy was my special bear, YaYa.”

She lamented to her grandmother. The sadness in the little girls heart was almost too much. A search party was sent out to look for the wayward toy but returned empty handed. It seemed Daisy was lost for good.

Adults tried to console the little girl that another bear could be made to replace Daisy. Jaiden was skeptical as Daisy was just that special. But as luck would have it one last search netted the lost toy. The returned bear was not without injury—one arm was badly torn and a leg was GONE as was one of her eyes. Poor Daisy appeared to have been dragged along for quite awhile. She was a mess.

Her happy owner though thrilled at the return of her bear made the painful decision to have a replacement Daisy bear made. Daisy’s injuries were too great even for YaYa to fix. Does this sound heartless, childish? Well Jaiden is a child. And yes, Daisy is just a stuffed toy. The real sadness is when imperfect adults cast off those that fail to meet their expectations and do so with even less thought than Jaiden gave to Daisy.

Who in your life has disappointed you? Did the wear and tear of a stressful day reveal the battle wounds that threaten the relationship? Or perhaps there are unseen wounds in your own heart left untended that would disclose your own weaknesses? All is not lost. Our maker and creator stands ready and no task is too difficult for Him.

The Spirit of Birthdays Past Present & Future

Perhaps it is the fact that I watched A Christmas Carol—or then again it may be the wine I consumed after writing the previous blog. My mind drifted back to a birthday long past. I don’t remember the exact details, I was quite young. My oldest sibling had just given birth to a beautiful baby girl—and she was born the day before my birthday. I was really excited to be an aunt again at such a young age.

The schools annual Christmas Program was being diligently rehearsed every day—the stage was decorated and the costumes made. I was to be part of an ensemble singing a Christmas Lullaby.  I still remember part of the lyrics—“Go to sleep my baby Christmas will soon be here, Dream of the wreaths of holly it will soon be here. Lullaby, lullaby, now close your dear eyes while I sing. Soon we’ll be home, Santa will come, presents for baby he’ll bring.”

The night of the performance came and the teacher reminded us to bring a baby doll from home as a prop for the song. I can recall how excited I was—I felt sure I was going to bring my new little niece to be my “baby” for the play. She was a whole week old—I had already gotten to hold her.

You can imagine my surprise and sorrow when I learned I would have to carry a plain old baby doll and not a real baby for the performance.  Another of my sisters even offered me her Thumbellina Doll—she had a knob on her back that you turned to wind her up and her arms and legs moved. The ad had said, “just like a real baby.” But I knew what a real baby looked like and she didn’t have a knob on her back—besides she couldn’t even close her eyes. (I finally DID get to sing and rock a baby in a performance years later, so patience pays off—but that is another story.)

But I was writing about birthdays…as a teen I recall celebrating my birthday with friends at a youth function. When the director realized it was my birthday he threatened a Birthday spanking—to which I ran headlong into the arms of a stranger seeking protection. (A year and a half later the “strange”r and I were married.)

So…I have now exhausted Birthdays past and present—see previous blog. I wonder what my birthday will look like in a year…will I be celebrating alone? or how I will celebrate in a 5 years? I have been blessed to even be able to look ahead to celebrating. I came very close to not reaching this birthday. God had a different plan for my life and I am so glad He did. There is an excitement in knowing God has a plan and it is unfolding right before your eyes. I have learned that my life has value. All life is precious.