I've been out of commission with a bad back lately and didn't feel like sitting at the ole blogger dashboard, but a recent story on the news propelled me out of the comfort of the lounge chair and straight to the keyboard, in spite of the ache.
Last night, at the Olympics, the Canadian women's hockey team beat the US for the gold medal. It was a hard fought game, but the Canadian girls came out the winners and their joy was well deserved. The arena, in the home country, went wild of course and the singing of "Oh, Canada" was loud and moving. Exactly the kind of stirring scene we have come to expect and enjoy from watching the Olympics over the years.
What went on in that arena later, however, prompted the subject of this commentary! After the music ended, the last high-fives with the 2nd place Americans were exchanged, and the fans had gone home, the Canadian women took to the ice again...but this time, to sit down and celebrate with booze and cigars. Naturally, nothing in this day and age ever takes place in private, so the pictures hit the air this morning, showing the hockey team gals, in uniform, pouring champagne on each others and puffing on stogies. In spite of the fact that women in full hockey array already don't look particularly feminine, these chicks looked especially rough around the edges.
Now, on one hand, the players had worked HARD for their victory and certainly deserved the right to celebrate. I don't think anybody would begrudge them the momentary lapse of propriety. My problem with the scene, however was that they chose to get down and waller in their lack of decorum right in the middle of Olympic ice, with cameras rolling--not in some local bar where that kind of behavior might be the norm!
This very subject arose on our local t.v. station's FaceBook page and I was definitely in the minority with my opinion that the actions of the hockey team were distasteful and tacky. One young woman said, "This is the 21st century! We don't HAVE to act like LADIES any more!"
Oh, really???
When did the change of millenium suddenly dictate that women should toss out their modesty, grace, and charm and just get down into the gutter to waller like a pig? How did the concept of women holding themselves to a higher standard and remembering that their femininity makes them special vanish just because a calendar page was turned? I must have missed the memo on THAT one!
Girls! Come on! We need to rediscover just WHO and WHAT we are! Why should we be so loath to admit that we are different and unique from men? Why in the world would we want to abandon the natural virtues of our gender and try to pretend to be some new variety of "GUY?" Over the years, after sporting events and frat parties, the people rolling around, dousing each other with booze, and blowing toxic smoke all over each other were usually male...and it wasn't all that attractive when it was just the MEN who were doing it. Why would women now want to mimic that rowdy behavior and claim that, in doing it, they are somehow "just as good" as the men folk?
"We don't HAVE to be ladies?" No, I don't guess we DO "have to," but then, why wouldn't we WANT to?
Somehow, the concept of being a lady has gotten the bad rap of meaning that we are weak, helpless, or incapable. For me, nothing could be further from the truth. My mama was one of the most lovely, elegant, stylish, and graceful Southern ladies one might ever hope to meet...but she also wore iron under-drawers! She could bat her lashes and pucker up those ruby red lips with the best of them...and take you apart at the seams at the same time. She knew exactly how to work what God gave her. She was charming and she was tough and she was gracious and she was a spit-fire. She put on white gloves to go to town when I was a kid, but could pull one of those gloves off in an instant to stick a manicured finger right up in the face of some uppity shop clerk to inform him she'd have his job if he didn't show her some respect! Mama was a lady but she was nobody's doormat.
That, I think, is the balance that modern young women have somehow missed. They don't seem to understand that, as women, our power comes NOT from trying to be just like men...but from being totally DIFFERENT from them and making sure they always understand that difference. A man isn't going to pursue and treasure a woman that props up on the bar next to him and lights up a cigar. A fella isn't going to write poetry and buy flowers for the chick who challenges him to an arm wrestling contest. Wars were never fought over the broads who could out cuss, out spit, and out fight all the men around them! Men aren't looking for women who look and act just like THEM!
A woman's TRUE strength doesn't come from trying to be a man! Don't misunderstand me--I'm not talking about job equality and the usual feminist mantra. That sort of thing is covered by law and is an entirely different issue. What I am talking about in this instance is the simple fact that, as women, we totally short change ourselves when we don't recognize that God make us wonderfully beautiful and special in so many ways that our male bretheren could never hope to understand. Our femininity is not a weakness by any means! Men are one part of the puzzle and we are the other. Though different and unique from one another, we fit together perfectly in our differences because that is precisely how the Lord intended it. When He decided that it was "not good that man should be alone," God didn't make another being exactly like the first. He made us to compliment and mesh with our male counterparts like perfectly fitted gears. (And don't mistake this for a discussion about sexuality, either! This is about our respective places in society and our roles as human beings together on the planet! We need the feminine every bit as much as we need the masculine for everything to flow as it should!)
While it is true that we don't HAVE to act like a lady in this modern, enlightened, sophisticated era, I would argue that we are totally missing our greatest strength and impact when we don't. Ladies, Please! Don't toss away your beauty and elegance and grace and graciousness to become a cheap imitation of a man!
So, CAN we sit on the ice and chug a few brews and talk smack with a big cigar hanging out of our mouths? Certainly...but then again, why would we want to?
Friday, February 26, 2010
Thursday, February 18, 2010
Pass the Keenex
A young lady who is a news anchor for our local t.v. station recently wrote a blog about how she always cries at weddings, no matter whose, and pondered, "What's up with that?"
I had to laugh when I read her words. I'll admit, here and now, that I not only cry at weddings, I cry at EVERYTHING! You name it, I can find a reason to muster up the tears.
Just yesterday, I had a colossal boo-hoo watching "Celebrity Rehab" when McKenzie Phillips was feeding her dog ice cream right before it had to be put to sleep. Never met McKenzie and never knew the dog, but I ended up sobbing like it was my own puppy while that cute little pug lapped up the Hagen Daz!
You should SEE me trying to watch shows on TLC where people are having babies! Oh, my gosh...it's a real water works! The minute that baby pops into the world, the tears pop right out of my eyes.
The same thing can happen at church, concerts, holidays, birthdays, awards...you name it. The current Olympics are a great source of inspiration for a sob fest. I can just walk outside, look at the beauty of the sunlight on the snow and start to sniff. Watch out at the movie theater, too, because if there's a remotely sentimental moment, I'm going to begin to dribble! I lose alot of good arguments because I often end up in tears before I can get to my point. The bottom line is...I'm a weeper.
And you know what, I'm not all that ashamed of it. Oh, yea, it does create problems at times and certainly embarasses my kids to no end, but I can't truly say that, if given the choice, I would want to find a way to dry up.
So many of my more tearful moments have been times that I don't want to ever forget. Of course, I cried at my own wedding and at the birth of both my kids. I cried at my daddy's funeral...mama's, too, and most recently, as I said "see you later" while we spread my husband's ashes. When my children gave me my Valentine the other day, you better believe I teared right up. I can not tell you how many times I've sat beside my babies' cribs while they slept and cried silently at the overwhelming blessing God had given me in those two little miracles. Over and over, some of the most important, most memorable, most precious, most painful moments in my life have been accompanied with a flood of emotion, bathed in the warmth of those tears.
I don't think tears wash AWAY our feelings. I think they help them SINK IN! Maybe our tears are God's way of softening the sometimes hard edge of our emotions and allowing them to be absorbed and experienced and stored away, good or bad, for another day.
Modern society sometimes tries to convince us that we need to stay "cool" and not let our feelings get too out of control. We're supposed to compartmentalize experiences, process them like bills to be paid, and file them away neatly without losing our civilized and sophisticated veneer. On the other hand, we're also a society awash in heart disease, nervous disorders, therapists, life coaches, anorexia, addictions, and a zillion other danger signs that suggest stuffing our emotions into a box just might not be working!
More "primative" cultures just let it rip! They hoot, they hollar, they shout, they sing, they paint themselves in bright colors and leap and dance in the sunlight! Weddings are loud and joyful and last for days. Funerals are even louder and loved ones throw themselves on the casket and writhe in the grave dirt in agony. Young people becoming adults are celebrated and old people approaching the end are embraced as wise. Harvest times are reasons for a party. Natural disasters invoke a need to raise their arms to the heavens and shout.
When we are babies, our tears flow uncheck and uninhibited and unashamed. If we're hungry, we cry loudly to let the world know. If we want to be loved and hugged, we scream it out for all to hear. If we hurt or are cold or are just plain bored, as infants, we don't think twice about the tears that flow down our faces.
Yes, I'm a crier...and sort of proud to be. Nobody will ever second guess me and wonder if I FEEL something! I wear my emotions on my sleeve, but at least I wear them. You will always be able to look into my weepy eyes and know that I'm proud of you or that I hurt for you or that I love you passionately. I cry because I feel and because I cry, I KNOW what I feel.
Lest you think that I am somehow strange or out of touch, let me remind you of the shortest verse in the entire Bible: "Jesus wept." He cried. I cry. Don't think either one of us is too ashamed of that either.
Pass me a Kleenex and have a good cry with me.
I had to laugh when I read her words. I'll admit, here and now, that I not only cry at weddings, I cry at EVERYTHING! You name it, I can find a reason to muster up the tears.
Just yesterday, I had a colossal boo-hoo watching "Celebrity Rehab" when McKenzie Phillips was feeding her dog ice cream right before it had to be put to sleep. Never met McKenzie and never knew the dog, but I ended up sobbing like it was my own puppy while that cute little pug lapped up the Hagen Daz!
You should SEE me trying to watch shows on TLC where people are having babies! Oh, my gosh...it's a real water works! The minute that baby pops into the world, the tears pop right out of my eyes.
The same thing can happen at church, concerts, holidays, birthdays, awards...you name it. The current Olympics are a great source of inspiration for a sob fest. I can just walk outside, look at the beauty of the sunlight on the snow and start to sniff. Watch out at the movie theater, too, because if there's a remotely sentimental moment, I'm going to begin to dribble! I lose alot of good arguments because I often end up in tears before I can get to my point. The bottom line is...I'm a weeper.
And you know what, I'm not all that ashamed of it. Oh, yea, it does create problems at times and certainly embarasses my kids to no end, but I can't truly say that, if given the choice, I would want to find a way to dry up.
So many of my more tearful moments have been times that I don't want to ever forget. Of course, I cried at my own wedding and at the birth of both my kids. I cried at my daddy's funeral...mama's, too, and most recently, as I said "see you later" while we spread my husband's ashes. When my children gave me my Valentine the other day, you better believe I teared right up. I can not tell you how many times I've sat beside my babies' cribs while they slept and cried silently at the overwhelming blessing God had given me in those two little miracles. Over and over, some of the most important, most memorable, most precious, most painful moments in my life have been accompanied with a flood of emotion, bathed in the warmth of those tears.
I don't think tears wash AWAY our feelings. I think they help them SINK IN! Maybe our tears are God's way of softening the sometimes hard edge of our emotions and allowing them to be absorbed and experienced and stored away, good or bad, for another day.
Modern society sometimes tries to convince us that we need to stay "cool" and not let our feelings get too out of control. We're supposed to compartmentalize experiences, process them like bills to be paid, and file them away neatly without losing our civilized and sophisticated veneer. On the other hand, we're also a society awash in heart disease, nervous disorders, therapists, life coaches, anorexia, addictions, and a zillion other danger signs that suggest stuffing our emotions into a box just might not be working!
More "primative" cultures just let it rip! They hoot, they hollar, they shout, they sing, they paint themselves in bright colors and leap and dance in the sunlight! Weddings are loud and joyful and last for days. Funerals are even louder and loved ones throw themselves on the casket and writhe in the grave dirt in agony. Young people becoming adults are celebrated and old people approaching the end are embraced as wise. Harvest times are reasons for a party. Natural disasters invoke a need to raise their arms to the heavens and shout.
When we are babies, our tears flow uncheck and uninhibited and unashamed. If we're hungry, we cry loudly to let the world know. If we want to be loved and hugged, we scream it out for all to hear. If we hurt or are cold or are just plain bored, as infants, we don't think twice about the tears that flow down our faces.
Yes, I'm a crier...and sort of proud to be. Nobody will ever second guess me and wonder if I FEEL something! I wear my emotions on my sleeve, but at least I wear them. You will always be able to look into my weepy eyes and know that I'm proud of you or that I hurt for you or that I love you passionately. I cry because I feel and because I cry, I KNOW what I feel.
Lest you think that I am somehow strange or out of touch, let me remind you of the shortest verse in the entire Bible: "Jesus wept." He cried. I cry. Don't think either one of us is too ashamed of that either.
Pass me a Kleenex and have a good cry with me.
Monday, February 15, 2010
With Blinders On
I've mentioned before that our neighbor's house was destroyed by fire just before Christmas. At the time, as I related the story to others, I said that I drove past the home about an hour before I heard the sirens and saw nothing out of the ordinary. Now, I'm not so sure...
Day before yesterday, the kids and I came home, and stopped in the driveway to check the mailbox. My oldest son suddenly pointed across the road and we looked over to realize that, while we were gone for the day, they had completely torn down the remaining skeleton of the burned out house! There was a huge pile of rubble and a large orange crane sitting in the yard. I had just driven right past that location and NEVER saw any of that!
Now, I am wondering just what I missed on that fateful day when that house caught fire. I still believe that, if it had been blazing like it was when I heard the fire engines, I would have surely seen THAT...but did I perhaps cruise right past smoke pouring out the roof? Inside, a young mother and two small children were sleeping without the benefit of the warning a smoke detector could have provided. Thank God, the mother did wake up in time to get her babies out, but I shudder to contemplate the idea that she might not have...and maybe I drove right past the impending tragedy. After all, I completely missed the fact that a whole house had disappeared while I was out!
Needless to say, the whole event has prompted me to desire to be more observant. What else goes on around me that, because I'm lost in my own thoughts and focused on my own goals, I have overlooked? How many other things are falling to the ground around me and I haven't even noticed?
All around us, every day, there are people who are like that burned out shell of a house. They enter and leave our lives, broken, wounded, empty, blackened and in danger of collapse...and we get so caught up in our own wants and needs that we never lift our eyes from our own path and look around to see who else is with us on the road. We come and go, passing them by, while their need stares us in the face, seemingly impossible to miss...and yet, we manage to never see them.
Like that house, one day, they end up in a pile of rubble, sometimes beyond our ability to help. Maybe, though, if we had been looking and watching and actively caring enough to see them, we could have done something while there was just a puff of smoke, rather than waiting until they had totally burned out and ended up ruined, to be swept away and forgotten.
My prayer, today, is that I no longer go through this life with blinders on. Just as I wish I could have paid more attention to my neighbor's home, I pray that God will help me pay more attention to my Neighbor. Please, Lord, don't let me be the Priest and the Levite on the road, but give me the heart of the Samaritan!
Open my eyes and open my heart!!!
Day before yesterday, the kids and I came home, and stopped in the driveway to check the mailbox. My oldest son suddenly pointed across the road and we looked over to realize that, while we were gone for the day, they had completely torn down the remaining skeleton of the burned out house! There was a huge pile of rubble and a large orange crane sitting in the yard. I had just driven right past that location and NEVER saw any of that!
Now, I am wondering just what I missed on that fateful day when that house caught fire. I still believe that, if it had been blazing like it was when I heard the fire engines, I would have surely seen THAT...but did I perhaps cruise right past smoke pouring out the roof? Inside, a young mother and two small children were sleeping without the benefit of the warning a smoke detector could have provided. Thank God, the mother did wake up in time to get her babies out, but I shudder to contemplate the idea that she might not have...and maybe I drove right past the impending tragedy. After all, I completely missed the fact that a whole house had disappeared while I was out!
Needless to say, the whole event has prompted me to desire to be more observant. What else goes on around me that, because I'm lost in my own thoughts and focused on my own goals, I have overlooked? How many other things are falling to the ground around me and I haven't even noticed?
All around us, every day, there are people who are like that burned out shell of a house. They enter and leave our lives, broken, wounded, empty, blackened and in danger of collapse...and we get so caught up in our own wants and needs that we never lift our eyes from our own path and look around to see who else is with us on the road. We come and go, passing them by, while their need stares us in the face, seemingly impossible to miss...and yet, we manage to never see them.
Like that house, one day, they end up in a pile of rubble, sometimes beyond our ability to help. Maybe, though, if we had been looking and watching and actively caring enough to see them, we could have done something while there was just a puff of smoke, rather than waiting until they had totally burned out and ended up ruined, to be swept away and forgotten.
My prayer, today, is that I no longer go through this life with blinders on. Just as I wish I could have paid more attention to my neighbor's home, I pray that God will help me pay more attention to my Neighbor. Please, Lord, don't let me be the Priest and the Levite on the road, but give me the heart of the Samaritan!
Open my eyes and open my heart!!!
Sunday, February 14, 2010
How Much I'm Loved
I'm having a lovely Valentine's Day! My wonderful children gave me chocolate (which I probably didn't need but will enjoy alot!) and a beautiful card! The card is a real keeper, not just because the verse on it is so precious, but because Zach announced that he actually READ the verse and specifically picked it out for me. (We women know that it's not often that men take the time to read greeting cards and try to pick out a special one, so that's high praise, believe me...LOL!) Here's the verse that made me boo-hoo a flood of "happy tears"...
"Children Do Not Realize"
Until we're grown
We never know or full realize
How sweet and kind our Mother is--
How gentle and how wise...
We simply take for granted,
From day to passing day,
Each sacrifice she makes for us
In her own loving way.
But then we grow and finally learn,
The way that children do,
How much her love has really meant--
How thoughtful she's been, too.
And so this comes with all the Thanks
That you deserve and more.
For there's not a dearer mother
Than the one this greeting's for!
This is the sort of moment that every mom dreams of...that point at which our children begin to see us as more than just someone who was put on earth to tuck them in at night. When they are little and don't seem to appreciate much that we do for them, a part of us always longs for the day when they'll finally be able to look back and understand how tenderly we cared for them and that making cupcakes at the last second for a class party or sticking our hands into cold paper mache was always a labor of love. We pray for that instant when it dawns on our children that we worked awful darn hard to make life good for them...because we adored them and would have given them the moon if we could have figured out how to reel it in!
Just that simple card and hearing my boys say, "Love you, Mom," is dearer to me than all the awards and rewards I could have ever achieved in any other endeavor in my life. Everything I ever did for them, every sleepless night, every nickle spent, every frustration, every loss, everything and anything I ever had to give up for them, was ALL worth it, just to hear them tell me that it mattered and that they KNOW they are loved!
In that same way, though, I remember that I, too, am someone's Child. Yes, I am my earthly parents' daughter and I hope I told them enough how much I appreciated them before they left me...but I am ALSO the child of the most adoring and giving Father of all. No worldly parent, no matter how hard they tried, could ever match the depth of the love He has for me. King of Kings, Ruler of the Universe, Creator of everything, He could have easily just dropped me in on this planet and left me to fend for myself...but instead, His Word tells me that I am His most precious invention and He delights Himself in my existence. Everything I see around me was put here for my enjoyment. He tends me closer than a shepherd watches his flock and has known me, intimately, from long before I was even conceived. He can even count the hairs on my head!
When I was in danger of being lost to Him, He completely gave Himself to bear the weight of my foolishness, lest we ever be seperated for eternity. He loves me so much, He chose to die to keep me close.
How often do I, like my own children, take that depth of love for granted and just expect more and more, without stopping to say, "I realize how much You mean to me!" I run and bury my face in His arms when troubles come, looking for that comfort that only a Parent can give...but when things are good and I think I'm standing strong on my own, do I take a minute to look behind me and see His hands, holding me up, carrying me over the rough spots?
Today, on this day when we celebrate how much we love--and how much we are loved by others--I want to stop and be the kind of Child my own boys have been to me today!
Happy Valentine's Day, Dear Lord!! I Love you, Father!
"Children Do Not Realize"
Until we're grown
We never know or full realize
How sweet and kind our Mother is--
How gentle and how wise...
We simply take for granted,
From day to passing day,
Each sacrifice she makes for us
In her own loving way.
But then we grow and finally learn,
The way that children do,
How much her love has really meant--
How thoughtful she's been, too.
And so this comes with all the Thanks
That you deserve and more.
For there's not a dearer mother
Than the one this greeting's for!
This is the sort of moment that every mom dreams of...that point at which our children begin to see us as more than just someone who was put on earth to tuck them in at night. When they are little and don't seem to appreciate much that we do for them, a part of us always longs for the day when they'll finally be able to look back and understand how tenderly we cared for them and that making cupcakes at the last second for a class party or sticking our hands into cold paper mache was always a labor of love. We pray for that instant when it dawns on our children that we worked awful darn hard to make life good for them...because we adored them and would have given them the moon if we could have figured out how to reel it in!
Just that simple card and hearing my boys say, "Love you, Mom," is dearer to me than all the awards and rewards I could have ever achieved in any other endeavor in my life. Everything I ever did for them, every sleepless night, every nickle spent, every frustration, every loss, everything and anything I ever had to give up for them, was ALL worth it, just to hear them tell me that it mattered and that they KNOW they are loved!
In that same way, though, I remember that I, too, am someone's Child. Yes, I am my earthly parents' daughter and I hope I told them enough how much I appreciated them before they left me...but I am ALSO the child of the most adoring and giving Father of all. No worldly parent, no matter how hard they tried, could ever match the depth of the love He has for me. King of Kings, Ruler of the Universe, Creator of everything, He could have easily just dropped me in on this planet and left me to fend for myself...but instead, His Word tells me that I am His most precious invention and He delights Himself in my existence. Everything I see around me was put here for my enjoyment. He tends me closer than a shepherd watches his flock and has known me, intimately, from long before I was even conceived. He can even count the hairs on my head!
When I was in danger of being lost to Him, He completely gave Himself to bear the weight of my foolishness, lest we ever be seperated for eternity. He loves me so much, He chose to die to keep me close.
How often do I, like my own children, take that depth of love for granted and just expect more and more, without stopping to say, "I realize how much You mean to me!" I run and bury my face in His arms when troubles come, looking for that comfort that only a Parent can give...but when things are good and I think I'm standing strong on my own, do I take a minute to look behind me and see His hands, holding me up, carrying me over the rough spots?
Today, on this day when we celebrate how much we love--and how much we are loved by others--I want to stop and be the kind of Child my own boys have been to me today!
Happy Valentine's Day, Dear Lord!! I Love you, Father!
Tuesday, February 9, 2010
Needs and Wants
I'm probably showing my age here, but I remember the refrain from a Rolling Stones song:
No, you can't always get what you want
You can't always get what you want
You can't always get what you want
But if you try sometime
you find
You get what you need.
This song definitely came to mind in the last few days when I found out that I was not going to be able to do something I'd been looking forward to for months. This event was a one-time college reunion in Orlando with folks I haven't seen in more than 30 years. Ever since I heard about it last year, I'd been planning the trip with great excitement and I think I was one of the first people in the group to make their reservation. Several of us had been talking frequently online about all the fun we were going to have in the Spring, catching up after all these years. I just couldn't wait! After all the stress and loss of the last couple of years, I told myself I NEEDED this trip. I NEEDED the rest, relaxation, and fun.
And then, reality hit me square in the face. No matter how dearly I desired this trip and how hard I tried to make it happen, there were just some factors that kept coming up that were making it clear I wasn't going to be able to leave home at that time. I guess I understood this pretty early on, but I was so convinced that I deserved the trip, I think I ignored the truth for quite a while and kept planning and hoping that I could force it into being, inspite of everything that kept piling up to thwart my efforts.
Eventually, though, the facts won out and I had to admit defeat. Painful as it was, I emailed my regrets to the reunion planners and cancelled my hotel reservation. The party was over before it began.
I'm usually a pretty upbeat person, a "glass half-full" kind of girl, but I have to be honest and say that I did shed some tears over this one. It was a bitter pill to swallow. How could something I wanted SO much just fall apart like that? Didn't God know how much I NEEDED this relief? Didn't He understand that it was something I was looking forward to? Hadn't I been through enough to earn a little "R and R?" Surely God loved me enough to give me just this ONE time to be happy?
Maybe that sounds sort of unfaithful to question the Lord like that...but I have come to understand, with time, that God is big enough to handle my questions and my occasional gripe. He knows that, as much as I love Him, sometimes I don't understand Him and don't understand His ways. That's o.k. His Word tells me I WON'T always understand His ways...they are higher than mine and I just don't see clearly on this side of Heaven. He's told me that, one day, He'll make it all transparent as glass, but for now, He is patient with me and listens to me whine.
What He DOES do for me, however, is give me peace and comfort when things go His way instead of mine. As sad as I was about not being able to go to the event I thought I NEEDED, in time, I felt His love and His Spirit and I could hear Him telling me, "This was something you WANTED. I will give you what you NEED."
That is really where we get confused sometimes...that distinct difference between what we WANT and what we truly NEED. If we remember what Scripture tells us, though, the definition is pretty clear. The Word tells us, "My God shall supply all my NEEDS, according to His riches in glory..." Again, in another passage, He taught us to pray, "Give us this day, our daily bread." Not tomorrow's bread, not next week's...we are supposed to trust Him for today and let tomorrow be another day. We are never guaranteed to have all our wants fulfilled, but He does tell us He will handle the things that HE knows we actually need to grow closer to Him and to walk in the path He has planned for us. In the long run, wouldn't we rather have the things God thinks are best for us, rather than go off on our own and gratify ourselves based on what we think is best?
I can't begin to claim that I remotely understand why God didn't make this reunion trip happen for me. It was something I wanted SO much and, if I were God, looking down at someone like me, I think I'd have made a way. Thankfully, though, I'm NOT God! I don't have to understand why things do or don't work out. I just have to yield to the Lord and trust Him for the details and believe that, if I wasn't supposed to go in this direction, He had a pretty good reason for His decision.
In a strange way, just knowing that I don't know is sort of a comfort. I don't really need to know. What I "want" is not nearly as important as what He knows I "need."
When I finally get Home, I'll probably have alot of questions...but, thank the Lord, I know He'll have all the answers!
No, you can't always get what you want
You can't always get what you want
You can't always get what you want
But if you try sometime
you find
You get what you need.
This song definitely came to mind in the last few days when I found out that I was not going to be able to do something I'd been looking forward to for months. This event was a one-time college reunion in Orlando with folks I haven't seen in more than 30 years. Ever since I heard about it last year, I'd been planning the trip with great excitement and I think I was one of the first people in the group to make their reservation. Several of us had been talking frequently online about all the fun we were going to have in the Spring, catching up after all these years. I just couldn't wait! After all the stress and loss of the last couple of years, I told myself I NEEDED this trip. I NEEDED the rest, relaxation, and fun.
And then, reality hit me square in the face. No matter how dearly I desired this trip and how hard I tried to make it happen, there were just some factors that kept coming up that were making it clear I wasn't going to be able to leave home at that time. I guess I understood this pretty early on, but I was so convinced that I deserved the trip, I think I ignored the truth for quite a while and kept planning and hoping that I could force it into being, inspite of everything that kept piling up to thwart my efforts.
Eventually, though, the facts won out and I had to admit defeat. Painful as it was, I emailed my regrets to the reunion planners and cancelled my hotel reservation. The party was over before it began.
I'm usually a pretty upbeat person, a "glass half-full" kind of girl, but I have to be honest and say that I did shed some tears over this one. It was a bitter pill to swallow. How could something I wanted SO much just fall apart like that? Didn't God know how much I NEEDED this relief? Didn't He understand that it was something I was looking forward to? Hadn't I been through enough to earn a little "R and R?" Surely God loved me enough to give me just this ONE time to be happy?
Maybe that sounds sort of unfaithful to question the Lord like that...but I have come to understand, with time, that God is big enough to handle my questions and my occasional gripe. He knows that, as much as I love Him, sometimes I don't understand Him and don't understand His ways. That's o.k. His Word tells me I WON'T always understand His ways...they are higher than mine and I just don't see clearly on this side of Heaven. He's told me that, one day, He'll make it all transparent as glass, but for now, He is patient with me and listens to me whine.
What He DOES do for me, however, is give me peace and comfort when things go His way instead of mine. As sad as I was about not being able to go to the event I thought I NEEDED, in time, I felt His love and His Spirit and I could hear Him telling me, "This was something you WANTED. I will give you what you NEED."
That is really where we get confused sometimes...that distinct difference between what we WANT and what we truly NEED. If we remember what Scripture tells us, though, the definition is pretty clear. The Word tells us, "My God shall supply all my NEEDS, according to His riches in glory..." Again, in another passage, He taught us to pray, "Give us this day, our daily bread." Not tomorrow's bread, not next week's...we are supposed to trust Him for today and let tomorrow be another day. We are never guaranteed to have all our wants fulfilled, but He does tell us He will handle the things that HE knows we actually need to grow closer to Him and to walk in the path He has planned for us. In the long run, wouldn't we rather have the things God thinks are best for us, rather than go off on our own and gratify ourselves based on what we think is best?
I can't begin to claim that I remotely understand why God didn't make this reunion trip happen for me. It was something I wanted SO much and, if I were God, looking down at someone like me, I think I'd have made a way. Thankfully, though, I'm NOT God! I don't have to understand why things do or don't work out. I just have to yield to the Lord and trust Him for the details and believe that, if I wasn't supposed to go in this direction, He had a pretty good reason for His decision.
In a strange way, just knowing that I don't know is sort of a comfort. I don't really need to know. What I "want" is not nearly as important as what He knows I "need."
When I finally get Home, I'll probably have alot of questions...but, thank the Lord, I know He'll have all the answers!
Saturday, February 6, 2010
Judge and Jury
Even though I still believe in the basic goodness of my fellow man, I do have occasion, now and then, to REALLY wonder what's going on in the hearts of some of them!
Our local t.v. station has a FaceBook page now where viewers can pop in to share their opinions on various news stories and "hot button" topics. One segment that definitely elicited some strong response recently was concerning a missing toddler whose body was eventually found, wrapped in a trash bag, at a land fill site. The child's stepfather, who had concocted a totally implausible tale about men knocking him out, kidnapping the baby, and leaving a ransom demand for $10,000, has so far been charged with child neglect and improper disposal of a body. We can assume that graver charges are yet to follow.
As awful as this story is, however, it's not the step father that I'm concerned about here. He is clearly a bad, bad man and, hopefully, will be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law...but he is being dealt appropriately by the judicial system. No, the ones who are truly giving me pause are the folks who spilled their anger and disgust into cyberspace and on to the Face Book page!
Of course, everyone is shocked and dismayed by the man's alledged actions and hopes he will pay a penalty if convicted, but for some, that shock has morphed into something as ugly and shocking as the murder itself! I was stunned at the hatred that was spewed! Some writers suggested that the step-father be released on bail so that THEY could "save the state the money" and dispense "justice" themselves. I won't describe the various means to dispatch the man that were suggested, but suffice it to say, the Face Book contributors had some especially cruel, creative ideas in mind. These ideas were accompanied by venomous, hate filled, and violent condemnations of the suspected killer. It was clear that, if their wishes had been granted and the man released, there would have been another body in the landfill by night fall!
This was just one story to which I saw similar ugly responses. Time after time, lately, I've read postings by people who are quick to leap in with their pronouncements of guilt and their lurid visions of punishment. I've also been disturbed to see how often people exibit a grave lack of compassion, caring, and understanding towards others in need. I was stunned to read an on-going rant by dozens of people who took the t.v. station to task over the announcement that they wanted to do a short fund-raiser during a broadcast for relief to Haiti. How heart wrenching to realize that a surprizing number of my fellow citizens said they couldn't care less about dying children in another country as long as THEIR electric bill was too high! And don't even get me started about the ugly things that were said when the topic turned to opinions on gay Americans! Time after time, even the most benign talking point can draw folks out of the wood work who seem to feel they are personally obligated to set everyone straight and are quite aggitated when not everyone agrees!
Yes, of course, we are all entitled to an opinion and a position on any subject. We certainly have the right to discuss behaviors, attitudes, and incidents and lodge our like or dislike... BUT, when did it become acceptable to become both judge and jury of our neighbors and begin to pass sentence, especially upon people we don't even know? How did it come to the point that we feel comfortable in wading into a situation and informing the world that WE know best and WE have the answers and WE can insult, condemn, curse, and revile anyone who doesn't see things the same way we do?
One only has to turn on the television and watch any of the multitude of news talk shows to get a little understanding of where the population is getting some of it's inspiration from. Hosts shouting, pointing fingers into the camera, screaming "Pin Heads! Wingnuts! Worst person in the world! Idiots! Family haters! Baby Killers! Liars! Cheaters! Homophobes!" and on and on... Somehow, we're not watching news any more. We are watching a nightly indictment, based on a particular, polar point of view, aimed at making US as crazy, wild eyed, and out for blood as the owner of that particular 60 minutes thinks we should be.
Sadly, it seems to me that alot of people are starting to fall victim to this kind of hysteria. Something like the t.v. station's Face Book page lends itself to becoming the perfect outlet for folks like that. Things we might not have the nerve to say face-to-face become so much easier in the faceless, timeless space of the internet. Maybe we feel released from normal civility and the constraints of simple good taste when we don't have to look anyone in the eye as we pound them with our judgemental hammer and proclaim OUR verdict on them.
This, to me, is an upsetting trend. More and more, I am saddened to watch our society throw away our humanity in favor of our "right" to express our opinions, right or wrong, and to insist upon our own superiority as both judge and jury of the people around us in the world.
Woe be unto a people who disolve themselves from flesh and blood and caring heart into bits and bytes of anger, vidictiveness, and condemnation in the cyber world. The old saying used to be "Look before you leap." Maybe, in the 21st century, it should be changed to "Think before you text." Don't be so hasty...or so judgemental...before you point a finger...and click.
Our local t.v. station has a FaceBook page now where viewers can pop in to share their opinions on various news stories and "hot button" topics. One segment that definitely elicited some strong response recently was concerning a missing toddler whose body was eventually found, wrapped in a trash bag, at a land fill site. The child's stepfather, who had concocted a totally implausible tale about men knocking him out, kidnapping the baby, and leaving a ransom demand for $10,000, has so far been charged with child neglect and improper disposal of a body. We can assume that graver charges are yet to follow.
As awful as this story is, however, it's not the step father that I'm concerned about here. He is clearly a bad, bad man and, hopefully, will be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law...but he is being dealt appropriately by the judicial system. No, the ones who are truly giving me pause are the folks who spilled their anger and disgust into cyberspace and on to the Face Book page!
Of course, everyone is shocked and dismayed by the man's alledged actions and hopes he will pay a penalty if convicted, but for some, that shock has morphed into something as ugly and shocking as the murder itself! I was stunned at the hatred that was spewed! Some writers suggested that the step-father be released on bail so that THEY could "save the state the money" and dispense "justice" themselves. I won't describe the various means to dispatch the man that were suggested, but suffice it to say, the Face Book contributors had some especially cruel, creative ideas in mind. These ideas were accompanied by venomous, hate filled, and violent condemnations of the suspected killer. It was clear that, if their wishes had been granted and the man released, there would have been another body in the landfill by night fall!
This was just one story to which I saw similar ugly responses. Time after time, lately, I've read postings by people who are quick to leap in with their pronouncements of guilt and their lurid visions of punishment. I've also been disturbed to see how often people exibit a grave lack of compassion, caring, and understanding towards others in need. I was stunned to read an on-going rant by dozens of people who took the t.v. station to task over the announcement that they wanted to do a short fund-raiser during a broadcast for relief to Haiti. How heart wrenching to realize that a surprizing number of my fellow citizens said they couldn't care less about dying children in another country as long as THEIR electric bill was too high! And don't even get me started about the ugly things that were said when the topic turned to opinions on gay Americans! Time after time, even the most benign talking point can draw folks out of the wood work who seem to feel they are personally obligated to set everyone straight and are quite aggitated when not everyone agrees!
Yes, of course, we are all entitled to an opinion and a position on any subject. We certainly have the right to discuss behaviors, attitudes, and incidents and lodge our like or dislike... BUT, when did it become acceptable to become both judge and jury of our neighbors and begin to pass sentence, especially upon people we don't even know? How did it come to the point that we feel comfortable in wading into a situation and informing the world that WE know best and WE have the answers and WE can insult, condemn, curse, and revile anyone who doesn't see things the same way we do?
One only has to turn on the television and watch any of the multitude of news talk shows to get a little understanding of where the population is getting some of it's inspiration from. Hosts shouting, pointing fingers into the camera, screaming "Pin Heads! Wingnuts! Worst person in the world! Idiots! Family haters! Baby Killers! Liars! Cheaters! Homophobes!" and on and on... Somehow, we're not watching news any more. We are watching a nightly indictment, based on a particular, polar point of view, aimed at making US as crazy, wild eyed, and out for blood as the owner of that particular 60 minutes thinks we should be.
Sadly, it seems to me that alot of people are starting to fall victim to this kind of hysteria. Something like the t.v. station's Face Book page lends itself to becoming the perfect outlet for folks like that. Things we might not have the nerve to say face-to-face become so much easier in the faceless, timeless space of the internet. Maybe we feel released from normal civility and the constraints of simple good taste when we don't have to look anyone in the eye as we pound them with our judgemental hammer and proclaim OUR verdict on them.
This, to me, is an upsetting trend. More and more, I am saddened to watch our society throw away our humanity in favor of our "right" to express our opinions, right or wrong, and to insist upon our own superiority as both judge and jury of the people around us in the world.
Woe be unto a people who disolve themselves from flesh and blood and caring heart into bits and bytes of anger, vidictiveness, and condemnation in the cyber world. The old saying used to be "Look before you leap." Maybe, in the 21st century, it should be changed to "Think before you text." Don't be so hasty...or so judgemental...before you point a finger...and click.
Thursday, February 4, 2010
Dog Days
It's hard to think of anything particularly serious or deep to write about today. We just got home with our brand new puppy and, for the moment, we are just totally consumed with a little black bundle of furry joy! Sassy is a dachshund, big black eyes, cold wet nose, and slurpy tongue that she happily uses to smooch anybody that gets within kissing distance. I know she is a hit with the boys because the XBox is sitting there, cold and abandoned while they lavish their attention on the "baby."
Sometimes, I think we could learn alot from watching our pets. Sassy has a simple way of approaching life--she sleeps when she's tired, eats when she's hungry, plays when she's awake, and her whole body registers her happiness when something delights her. Her barks and growls are reserved for things that are truly threatening and she whines only when genuinely distressed. She is interested in everything around her and can find something intriguing in the smallest things.
Wonder what life would be like for us complicated humans if we could learn to live like our puppies and kitties? What if we could begin to live more in the moment and take joy in the simple things, instead of constantly worrying about what's ahead? What if we ate and slept and played without second guessing every move? What if we were free to express our emotions with abandon and learn to seek out beauty in the world around us?
Right now, Sassy is sound asleep, trusting that the new human in her life who is cuddling her close cares for her and will protect her. She isn't worried about motives or agendas. She just feels the love and love is enough for her. When she awakes, she'll again return that love with a happy slurp and a wagging tail. Love, pure and simple.
Love, eat, sleep, play, wag, kiss, and repeat...over and over...
Oh, for the life of a dog!
Sometimes, I think we could learn alot from watching our pets. Sassy has a simple way of approaching life--she sleeps when she's tired, eats when she's hungry, plays when she's awake, and her whole body registers her happiness when something delights her. Her barks and growls are reserved for things that are truly threatening and she whines only when genuinely distressed. She is interested in everything around her and can find something intriguing in the smallest things.
Wonder what life would be like for us complicated humans if we could learn to live like our puppies and kitties? What if we could begin to live more in the moment and take joy in the simple things, instead of constantly worrying about what's ahead? What if we ate and slept and played without second guessing every move? What if we were free to express our emotions with abandon and learn to seek out beauty in the world around us?
Right now, Sassy is sound asleep, trusting that the new human in her life who is cuddling her close cares for her and will protect her. She isn't worried about motives or agendas. She just feels the love and love is enough for her. When she awakes, she'll again return that love with a happy slurp and a wagging tail. Love, pure and simple.
Love, eat, sleep, play, wag, kiss, and repeat...over and over...
Oh, for the life of a dog!
Wednesday, February 3, 2010
A Lasting Legacy
There's a old Jewish legend that goes like this: One day, a great rabbi's young student asked him, "Oh, good Teacher...When is the best time to make sure you are right with God?"
The old man answered him, "One minute before you die."
"But, Master!" said the student, "You can't possibly KNOW when you will die!"
"Ahh," replied the Teacher, "Then you should do it right away!"
I learned today that a man my husband used to work with passed away. He'd been ill for a number of years with a neuromuscular disorder and had been confined to a wheelchair a good bit of those last years. He left behind a devoted wife, 3 daughters, 2 step-sons, and his parents. He was only 46 years old.
My own husband, Clay, only had 58 years of life and I thought THAT was much too short a time. To think that this man didn't even get to see his 50th birthday, leaving while he was still what most of us would consider a young man, made me feel so sad. His life was too brief and too filled with illness and difficulty. His youngest daughter is still just a little girl and, though I'm sure she will always remember her daddy, in time, her memory of him will just be bits and pieces...a faded picture of a frail man in a chair.
As sad as the story may be, though, he did have one real blessing in his passing, a blessing in common with my husband...he had time.
I'm sure that neither this man nor Clay ever totally embraced their impending deaths in their heart of hearts. I don't know that anyone, no matter how grim the prognosis, could ever really wrap their minds around reality and truly, completely resign themselves to death and "go gentle into that good night." Clay knew for a while that his time was growing short and he faced that approaching ending with a peace and grace, but I know for sure that there was always a tiny spark of hope burning to the very end that he might still win a "reprieve."
He wasn't a fool either, though. The end was on the horizon but, while he was still on this side of the Jordan, he recognized that there was TIME...time to mend fences, time to wrap up loose ends, time to heal the past, time to give one last hug, one last "I love you," one last "see ya later." It didn't turn out to be nearly as much time as we would have hoped for and were praying for, but it was enough to say and to do the things he needed to do.
In those last days, as he began to slide over to the other side, I sometimes thought he was already catching glimpses of his eternity. Some days, he didn't seem like he was still here with us, so much as he was already anxiously straining to see the face of God. He read his Bible ravenously, watched his favorite t.v. preachers until all hours of night, and would suddenly, excitedly say, "Come here and listen! I just saw something in the Scripture I never saw before!" Looking back now, I realize that he was packing his bags for the Trip.
What he was also doing was leaving his children, his mama, and me SUCH a wonderful gift! Even though we miss him so dearly these days, there isn't a minute where we ever look at each other and wonder where he is or what he's doing. The blessing of TIME that Clay had in those last days were also a lasting blessing to us because we have the absolute assurance that he is safe, and healed, and happy, and at Home with his dad, brother, grandmother and a host of other relatives who have gone on before. We easily and joyfully picture him with drum sticks in hand, playing his drums with the Heavenly choir, praising God with the biggest smile on his face. We know that he'll be first in line to welcome each of us when our time comes to join him there!
Unfortunately, in life, we know that not everyone who passes on has that gift of the time to make ready. Too often, we hear tragic stories of sudden heart attacks, terrible auto accidents, brutal murders, and so many other awful tales of people who were living and breathing one second and gone the next. Just a few weeks ago, how many people were instantly snuffed out by the horrendous earthquake in Haiti!? There was no time for them to even realize they were about to die, much less leave any sort of lasting legacy behind...not even a instant to say goodbye!
For those people, we can only hope that, like the Teacher's words in the old legend, they had already recognized that we never know the exact hour of our death and had made their peace with God. We can only pray that not only did they express their love for their friends and family, but they also shared their love for their Lord so that when they were gone, those left behind would have the comfort of knowing their passage into the next Life was secure.
I know two young women whose mother was killed instantly a number of years ago in a sudden car wreck. One day, one of her daughters tearfully told me, "I don't know where my mama is. I don't know if she's in Heaven." What an awful, bitter legacy to leave your child with! Every day, this poor young lady suffers the nagging, agonizing fear that she truly may never see her mother again.
Too often, in this day and age, we are seduced by the media lie that our faith should be "personal and private." Nothing could be further from the truth. If we love the Lord, have made Him our Savior, and know, without a doubt that we are going Home one day to spend Eternity with Him, we should shout it from the rooftops and make sure that all who know us and all who love us never have to wonder if we have found peace when we die. Those of our loved ones who also have Jesus in their life will be left with the joy, in the midst of their grief, of knowing that the parting will be brief and that they will see you again at Home. Those, on the other hand, who haven't yet come to know the Lord may be pursuaded to seek Him out when they see what strength and hope He has given you.
In any event, as long as you are still breathing, you have time. It may be years or it may be minutes, but you can make the most of it. You can leave a lasting legacy!
The old man answered him, "One minute before you die."
"But, Master!" said the student, "You can't possibly KNOW when you will die!"
"Ahh," replied the Teacher, "Then you should do it right away!"
I learned today that a man my husband used to work with passed away. He'd been ill for a number of years with a neuromuscular disorder and had been confined to a wheelchair a good bit of those last years. He left behind a devoted wife, 3 daughters, 2 step-sons, and his parents. He was only 46 years old.
My own husband, Clay, only had 58 years of life and I thought THAT was much too short a time. To think that this man didn't even get to see his 50th birthday, leaving while he was still what most of us would consider a young man, made me feel so sad. His life was too brief and too filled with illness and difficulty. His youngest daughter is still just a little girl and, though I'm sure she will always remember her daddy, in time, her memory of him will just be bits and pieces...a faded picture of a frail man in a chair.
As sad as the story may be, though, he did have one real blessing in his passing, a blessing in common with my husband...he had time.
I'm sure that neither this man nor Clay ever totally embraced their impending deaths in their heart of hearts. I don't know that anyone, no matter how grim the prognosis, could ever really wrap their minds around reality and truly, completely resign themselves to death and "go gentle into that good night." Clay knew for a while that his time was growing short and he faced that approaching ending with a peace and grace, but I know for sure that there was always a tiny spark of hope burning to the very end that he might still win a "reprieve."
He wasn't a fool either, though. The end was on the horizon but, while he was still on this side of the Jordan, he recognized that there was TIME...time to mend fences, time to wrap up loose ends, time to heal the past, time to give one last hug, one last "I love you," one last "see ya later." It didn't turn out to be nearly as much time as we would have hoped for and were praying for, but it was enough to say and to do the things he needed to do.
In those last days, as he began to slide over to the other side, I sometimes thought he was already catching glimpses of his eternity. Some days, he didn't seem like he was still here with us, so much as he was already anxiously straining to see the face of God. He read his Bible ravenously, watched his favorite t.v. preachers until all hours of night, and would suddenly, excitedly say, "Come here and listen! I just saw something in the Scripture I never saw before!" Looking back now, I realize that he was packing his bags for the Trip.
What he was also doing was leaving his children, his mama, and me SUCH a wonderful gift! Even though we miss him so dearly these days, there isn't a minute where we ever look at each other and wonder where he is or what he's doing. The blessing of TIME that Clay had in those last days were also a lasting blessing to us because we have the absolute assurance that he is safe, and healed, and happy, and at Home with his dad, brother, grandmother and a host of other relatives who have gone on before. We easily and joyfully picture him with drum sticks in hand, playing his drums with the Heavenly choir, praising God with the biggest smile on his face. We know that he'll be first in line to welcome each of us when our time comes to join him there!
Unfortunately, in life, we know that not everyone who passes on has that gift of the time to make ready. Too often, we hear tragic stories of sudden heart attacks, terrible auto accidents, brutal murders, and so many other awful tales of people who were living and breathing one second and gone the next. Just a few weeks ago, how many people were instantly snuffed out by the horrendous earthquake in Haiti!? There was no time for them to even realize they were about to die, much less leave any sort of lasting legacy behind...not even a instant to say goodbye!
For those people, we can only hope that, like the Teacher's words in the old legend, they had already recognized that we never know the exact hour of our death and had made their peace with God. We can only pray that not only did they express their love for their friends and family, but they also shared their love for their Lord so that when they were gone, those left behind would have the comfort of knowing their passage into the next Life was secure.
I know two young women whose mother was killed instantly a number of years ago in a sudden car wreck. One day, one of her daughters tearfully told me, "I don't know where my mama is. I don't know if she's in Heaven." What an awful, bitter legacy to leave your child with! Every day, this poor young lady suffers the nagging, agonizing fear that she truly may never see her mother again.
Too often, in this day and age, we are seduced by the media lie that our faith should be "personal and private." Nothing could be further from the truth. If we love the Lord, have made Him our Savior, and know, without a doubt that we are going Home one day to spend Eternity with Him, we should shout it from the rooftops and make sure that all who know us and all who love us never have to wonder if we have found peace when we die. Those of our loved ones who also have Jesus in their life will be left with the joy, in the midst of their grief, of knowing that the parting will be brief and that they will see you again at Home. Those, on the other hand, who haven't yet come to know the Lord may be pursuaded to seek Him out when they see what strength and hope He has given you.
In any event, as long as you are still breathing, you have time. It may be years or it may be minutes, but you can make the most of it. You can leave a lasting legacy!
Tuesday, February 2, 2010
Long Weekends
This evening, on the nightly weather report, they announced (much to my childrens' delight!) that school would be closed yet again tomorrow. Today's ice and sleet, added to the 10 inches of snow from Saturday, means that we will be headed into our 5th day of the "weekend." If the groundhog was right at sunup, we've got a few more of these long weekends to go!
Needless to say, the kids are blissfully happy. When we first moved to the mountains from Florida, the boys looked at the school schedule and were exceedingly grumpy about having to start early while they felt it was still summer. I tried to explain to them that, in climates where they actually have "winter" (unlike Florida where there are only two seasons: hot and more hot) schools have to factor in "snow days" to make sure they have ample time to get in the required attendance. At that point, they still didn't quite get the concept. I told them to imagine "hurricane days" except without the threat of the roof blowing off and much, much colder.
None of this meant anything, however, until that first morning when they came down the stairs for school in their usual cheerless humor and I informed them they could go back to bed because it was a "snow day!" That's when it became clear that maybe living in a colder climate might be a GREAT thing!
Strangely enough, though, I hear other parents in this area talking about how they DREAD snow days. The prevailing attitude seems to be that it is somehow a burden and a curse to be "stuck" at home with your kids for a whole day, fixing them snacks, listening to their noise, and dealing with them being underfoot! These are some of the same parents I sometimes hear confiding in each other about how they can't WAIT for the weekend when they can drop the children off with the babysitter/grandparents/other parent/anybody who'll take them and get away to have some "me" time!
I watched an episode of Oprah one day where young moms were lamenting their fate and discussing how much better their lives would have been without the weight of their children dragging them down! They're so messy! They're so loud! They're so needy! They're so smelly! They take too much time, too much money, too much...everything from ME! Several of them even said they didn't LIKE their children and would have be so much happier if they'd never become mothers. By the end of the show, I was looking around the room for something to throw at the screen that would get the frustration out of my system without breaking the television set!
My obvious question would be: WHY in the world did you ever have kids if you didn't want them, didn't like them, and spend all your waking hours resenting them now? What in the world did you THINK they would be...little dolls that you could dress up, play with for a while, and put back in a box when you lost interest? Didn't anybody TELL you that babies cry, throw up, poop, and require every ounce of energy in your body to keep up with? Nobody ever mentioned the "Terrible Twos" to you??
I can not understand these women, nor will I ever understand them. To me, my kids are the first and best thing I ever did with my life. They are a miracle, a blessing, a joy, and roller coaster ride that I want to stay on for the rest of my life! There has never been a day where I looked at either one of my boys and thought, "Gosh, just think of the things I could be doing without YOU!"
The day I brought Zach, my first, home from the hospital and laid him on the bed, he looked up at me, seriously and intently, as if to say, "What now, Mom? I'm waiting on you?" Even though I'd spent years taking care of other people's kids and could diaper a baby with my eyes closed, I suddenly realized that the game was changed this time. When I was "borrowing" somebody else's kid, if I didn't do well or didn't enjoy it, I could just hand them back and say, "Sorry 'bout that" and start all over. This time, those little intense and deep eyes staring back into mine BELONGED to me. There was no "do over" built into this experience. If I messed this up, I would have to spend forever explaining to him why I failed. This child that I had willingly brought into the world would be forever linked to me no less securely than as if the cord had never been cut.
Somehow, though, unlike those shallow women I saw on Oprah, I felt up to the challenge. Maybe it was partly due to the fact that I was somewhat older when Zach came along. Maybe it was because I'd pretty much sowed my wild oats and didn't feel like I was going to miss out on anything else. Maybe I had just wanted to be a mom for so long that this all seemed so right. But, whatever the reason, the thought that this little person would be calling me "Mom" for the rest of my days brought me a sense of accomplishment and tremendous joy. Like Tom Hanks, dancing around the bonfire in "Cast Away," I wanted to crow, "LOOK what I have made!"
From that day on, and especially with the addition of Zach's brother, A.J. less than two years later, I have wanted anybody and everybody I met to know I am a mother. I enjoy my kids! I love to travel with them. I love to eat dinner with them. I love to laugh with them, cry with them, watch movies with them, play games with them, argue with them, and live with them.
It drives me nuts to hear women say, "I'm JUST a mom..." JUST a mom? It would make more sense to say I'm JUST a corporate executive or I'm JUST president of the United States! What in the world could a woman ever possibly do in her entire existence that could ever match the ultimate achievement of creating life AND nurturing and shaping that life into a human being that will one day do great things in this world?
Every day that my children go off to school, I rejoice in the fact that they are learning and growing and becoming good men in whom I have much pride...but I also have to admit that, every day, I feel just a tiny touch of that same sadness I felt on the very first day I carried them to pre-school and left them in the capable hands of their first teacher to go home to a strangely empty and silent house. On these snow days, these long weekends, though, I once again get to revel in the joy of having noise, noise, noise in the house. With the snow, I get to temporarily postpone that inevitable day when the boys will be gone, off on their own, and the silence of each day will drift on into each night and beyond and I will truly miss the noise, the mess, the chaos, and the blessing.
Thank you, Lord, for wonderful snow and long weekends and the chance to pretend that tomorrow will never come!
Needless to say, the kids are blissfully happy. When we first moved to the mountains from Florida, the boys looked at the school schedule and were exceedingly grumpy about having to start early while they felt it was still summer. I tried to explain to them that, in climates where they actually have "winter" (unlike Florida where there are only two seasons: hot and more hot) schools have to factor in "snow days" to make sure they have ample time to get in the required attendance. At that point, they still didn't quite get the concept. I told them to imagine "hurricane days" except without the threat of the roof blowing off and much, much colder.
None of this meant anything, however, until that first morning when they came down the stairs for school in their usual cheerless humor and I informed them they could go back to bed because it was a "snow day!" That's when it became clear that maybe living in a colder climate might be a GREAT thing!
Strangely enough, though, I hear other parents in this area talking about how they DREAD snow days. The prevailing attitude seems to be that it is somehow a burden and a curse to be "stuck" at home with your kids for a whole day, fixing them snacks, listening to their noise, and dealing with them being underfoot! These are some of the same parents I sometimes hear confiding in each other about how they can't WAIT for the weekend when they can drop the children off with the babysitter/grandparents/other parent/anybody who'll take them and get away to have some "me" time!
I watched an episode of Oprah one day where young moms were lamenting their fate and discussing how much better their lives would have been without the weight of their children dragging them down! They're so messy! They're so loud! They're so needy! They're so smelly! They take too much time, too much money, too much...everything from ME! Several of them even said they didn't LIKE their children and would have be so much happier if they'd never become mothers. By the end of the show, I was looking around the room for something to throw at the screen that would get the frustration out of my system without breaking the television set!
My obvious question would be: WHY in the world did you ever have kids if you didn't want them, didn't like them, and spend all your waking hours resenting them now? What in the world did you THINK they would be...little dolls that you could dress up, play with for a while, and put back in a box when you lost interest? Didn't anybody TELL you that babies cry, throw up, poop, and require every ounce of energy in your body to keep up with? Nobody ever mentioned the "Terrible Twos" to you??
I can not understand these women, nor will I ever understand them. To me, my kids are the first and best thing I ever did with my life. They are a miracle, a blessing, a joy, and roller coaster ride that I want to stay on for the rest of my life! There has never been a day where I looked at either one of my boys and thought, "Gosh, just think of the things I could be doing without YOU!"
The day I brought Zach, my first, home from the hospital and laid him on the bed, he looked up at me, seriously and intently, as if to say, "What now, Mom? I'm waiting on you?" Even though I'd spent years taking care of other people's kids and could diaper a baby with my eyes closed, I suddenly realized that the game was changed this time. When I was "borrowing" somebody else's kid, if I didn't do well or didn't enjoy it, I could just hand them back and say, "Sorry 'bout that" and start all over. This time, those little intense and deep eyes staring back into mine BELONGED to me. There was no "do over" built into this experience. If I messed this up, I would have to spend forever explaining to him why I failed. This child that I had willingly brought into the world would be forever linked to me no less securely than as if the cord had never been cut.
Somehow, though, unlike those shallow women I saw on Oprah, I felt up to the challenge. Maybe it was partly due to the fact that I was somewhat older when Zach came along. Maybe it was because I'd pretty much sowed my wild oats and didn't feel like I was going to miss out on anything else. Maybe I had just wanted to be a mom for so long that this all seemed so right. But, whatever the reason, the thought that this little person would be calling me "Mom" for the rest of my days brought me a sense of accomplishment and tremendous joy. Like Tom Hanks, dancing around the bonfire in "Cast Away," I wanted to crow, "LOOK what I have made!"
From that day on, and especially with the addition of Zach's brother, A.J. less than two years later, I have wanted anybody and everybody I met to know I am a mother. I enjoy my kids! I love to travel with them. I love to eat dinner with them. I love to laugh with them, cry with them, watch movies with them, play games with them, argue with them, and live with them.
It drives me nuts to hear women say, "I'm JUST a mom..." JUST a mom? It would make more sense to say I'm JUST a corporate executive or I'm JUST president of the United States! What in the world could a woman ever possibly do in her entire existence that could ever match the ultimate achievement of creating life AND nurturing and shaping that life into a human being that will one day do great things in this world?
Every day that my children go off to school, I rejoice in the fact that they are learning and growing and becoming good men in whom I have much pride...but I also have to admit that, every day, I feel just a tiny touch of that same sadness I felt on the very first day I carried them to pre-school and left them in the capable hands of their first teacher to go home to a strangely empty and silent house. On these snow days, these long weekends, though, I once again get to revel in the joy of having noise, noise, noise in the house. With the snow, I get to temporarily postpone that inevitable day when the boys will be gone, off on their own, and the silence of each day will drift on into each night and beyond and I will truly miss the noise, the mess, the chaos, and the blessing.
Thank you, Lord, for wonderful snow and long weekends and the chance to pretend that tomorrow will never come!
Monday, February 1, 2010
The Perks of Aging
One of my friends, a young mom with pre-K kids, recounted this exchange on FaceBook:
Son: Mommy you're not old!
Mom: Awww thanks!!
Son: But you look old...
Little does she know that this is just the beginning! I'm a few years ahead of her, with teenagers, and the exchange is more often like "You ARE old! Your jokes are old. You dress old. You talk old. Don't embarass me by being so old!" Ha! These are the same children that, as toddlers, said, "Mommy, I want to stay with you forever! I'll never leave you!" Now, they are counting the days until they can escape this tomb of antiquity and get out in the REAL world where the young people run free, unfettered by their elderly parents and their archaic ideas.
Laugh it up, kids! I know it's hard to believe, but I was young once, too. No, really, I WAS! Take a good long look children because this could be you one day...out of touch, out of style, droopy, uncool, and slowing down like a car outta gas. Your day will come, my young darlings, so enjoy your humor at my expense right now because what goes around comes around. Like the curse that has been uttered for generation after generation, "I hope you have kids JUST like you!" HA!
I don't really let any of that bother me, though. I gotta tell you that I'm pretty happy with the whole aging thing. Unlike alot of my peers, particularly women, I don't obsess with the mirror and the impact time and gravity are having on me from head to toe. I wear my "old" like a badge of honor. I am aware that I am in the minority and that very few members of my generation are remotely thrilled to be getting on in years, but I have to say that I am not too sorry to be past my younger days and into the vintage years of my life!
I have joyfully discovered that there are perks to getting older!! My favorite, of course, are the discounts. It is SO nice to strut up to a counter, slap down some ID and say, "How much is that for us OLD people?" Gimme my free coffee! Hotel room? 15% off! Senior shopping days at department stores! Senior citizen menus at restaurants! Everywhere these days, it seems like businesses are trying to lure us in, calling out to the older generation, "Come on in! We've got a deal for you grey headed folk!" It's awesome.
When I first turned 50 and started to qualify for some of these discounts, I had the added joy of being asked for ID to prove I was OLD enough! Oh, how delightful to hear someone say "But you just don't LOOK that old!" Ahhhhhhhh....
Another huge benefit of aging is no longer needing to be a slave to fashion. Let's face it, nobody really cares if somebody in there mid-50s looks like she just stepped out of the pages of Vogue or something! As a matter of fact, my kids would be VERY happy if I didn't even try to be fashionable and draw attention to myself! If I wouldn't mind going around with a paper bag over my head, they'd be really grateful (in this, though, I'm afraid I can't accomodate them...) I never again have to wear a short skirt, high heels, or panty hose if I don't want to. While I pat on a little make up now and then, nobody expects me to be wearing THE latest color lip stick or perfect blush to match my outfit. Recently, when I splurged and bought a tube of the newest mascera. My youngest son shook his head disapprovingly and called it, "Hooker make-up..."
I wear flat shoes, long skirts, baggy jeans, floppy sweaters and whatever the heck else I want to wear and, if somebody ever actually decided to critique my lack of fashion sense, I could disarm them with a single word..."OLD!!!" ("Oh, sorry...didn't realize...of course you are...carry on!")
Once upon a time, I went around being painfully aware that I was never quite cool enough, never quite smart enough, never quite "with it" enough, and never quite what every magazine and t.v. commercial SAID I should be. I couldn't dress right, couldn't act right, couldn't talk right, drink right, buy right, dance right, or live up to the impossible ideals I let the world set for me. Being young, quite frankly, was a pain in the ass!
Thank God for getting old!! What a liberating, freeing experience to know that the world no longer takes that kind of interest in what I do and that I don't have to please anybody else but ME! Like chains of slavery, the world and the weight of all its expectations have fallen away! I can dance any way I want, sing to the heavens, wear any outlandish costume I choose, play, read, eat, laugh, travel, shout, all in total abandon...because I have passed through some misty veil that once seperated the younger, repressed and insecure me from the place on the other side where I am free to be my own woman, whoever I decide to be!
Oh, yes! There are perks to getting older. I wouldn't go back in time for all the wealth in the world. Crazy old lady? You betcha! Silly, quirky, ridiculous, eccentric old broad? Proud of it!
Old people! Rebel! Don't let those jealous young folks try and keep their hooks in you by convincing you to nip, tuck, botox, girdle, and Weight Watch you into staying on THEIR side of the great divide! Run as fast as your aging old joints will carry you and wade over to this bank of the river where we gray folk are having a blast. Let them have their corporate jobs and Blackberries and tread mills and break downs and rehabs!
We have cake and dancing and comfortable shoes!! Hooray!
Son: Mommy you're not old!
Mom: Awww thanks!!
Son: But you look old...
Little does she know that this is just the beginning! I'm a few years ahead of her, with teenagers, and the exchange is more often like "You ARE old! Your jokes are old. You dress old. You talk old. Don't embarass me by being so old!" Ha! These are the same children that, as toddlers, said, "Mommy, I want to stay with you forever! I'll never leave you!" Now, they are counting the days until they can escape this tomb of antiquity and get out in the REAL world where the young people run free, unfettered by their elderly parents and their archaic ideas.
Laugh it up, kids! I know it's hard to believe, but I was young once, too. No, really, I WAS! Take a good long look children because this could be you one day...out of touch, out of style, droopy, uncool, and slowing down like a car outta gas. Your day will come, my young darlings, so enjoy your humor at my expense right now because what goes around comes around. Like the curse that has been uttered for generation after generation, "I hope you have kids JUST like you!" HA!
I don't really let any of that bother me, though. I gotta tell you that I'm pretty happy with the whole aging thing. Unlike alot of my peers, particularly women, I don't obsess with the mirror and the impact time and gravity are having on me from head to toe. I wear my "old" like a badge of honor. I am aware that I am in the minority and that very few members of my generation are remotely thrilled to be getting on in years, but I have to say that I am not too sorry to be past my younger days and into the vintage years of my life!
I have joyfully discovered that there are perks to getting older!! My favorite, of course, are the discounts. It is SO nice to strut up to a counter, slap down some ID and say, "How much is that for us OLD people?" Gimme my free coffee! Hotel room? 15% off! Senior shopping days at department stores! Senior citizen menus at restaurants! Everywhere these days, it seems like businesses are trying to lure us in, calling out to the older generation, "Come on in! We've got a deal for you grey headed folk!" It's awesome.
When I first turned 50 and started to qualify for some of these discounts, I had the added joy of being asked for ID to prove I was OLD enough! Oh, how delightful to hear someone say "But you just don't LOOK that old!" Ahhhhhhhh....
Another huge benefit of aging is no longer needing to be a slave to fashion. Let's face it, nobody really cares if somebody in there mid-50s looks like she just stepped out of the pages of Vogue or something! As a matter of fact, my kids would be VERY happy if I didn't even try to be fashionable and draw attention to myself! If I wouldn't mind going around with a paper bag over my head, they'd be really grateful (in this, though, I'm afraid I can't accomodate them...) I never again have to wear a short skirt, high heels, or panty hose if I don't want to. While I pat on a little make up now and then, nobody expects me to be wearing THE latest color lip stick or perfect blush to match my outfit. Recently, when I splurged and bought a tube of the newest mascera. My youngest son shook his head disapprovingly and called it, "Hooker make-up..."
I wear flat shoes, long skirts, baggy jeans, floppy sweaters and whatever the heck else I want to wear and, if somebody ever actually decided to critique my lack of fashion sense, I could disarm them with a single word..."OLD!!!" ("Oh, sorry...didn't realize...of course you are...carry on!")
Once upon a time, I went around being painfully aware that I was never quite cool enough, never quite smart enough, never quite "with it" enough, and never quite what every magazine and t.v. commercial SAID I should be. I couldn't dress right, couldn't act right, couldn't talk right, drink right, buy right, dance right, or live up to the impossible ideals I let the world set for me. Being young, quite frankly, was a pain in the ass!
Thank God for getting old!! What a liberating, freeing experience to know that the world no longer takes that kind of interest in what I do and that I don't have to please anybody else but ME! Like chains of slavery, the world and the weight of all its expectations have fallen away! I can dance any way I want, sing to the heavens, wear any outlandish costume I choose, play, read, eat, laugh, travel, shout, all in total abandon...because I have passed through some misty veil that once seperated the younger, repressed and insecure me from the place on the other side where I am free to be my own woman, whoever I decide to be!
Oh, yes! There are perks to getting older. I wouldn't go back in time for all the wealth in the world. Crazy old lady? You betcha! Silly, quirky, ridiculous, eccentric old broad? Proud of it!
Old people! Rebel! Don't let those jealous young folks try and keep their hooks in you by convincing you to nip, tuck, botox, girdle, and Weight Watch you into staying on THEIR side of the great divide! Run as fast as your aging old joints will carry you and wade over to this bank of the river where we gray folk are having a blast. Let them have their corporate jobs and Blackberries and tread mills and break downs and rehabs!
We have cake and dancing and comfortable shoes!! Hooray!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
