Memories

Happy 50th birthday, Son.  Really?  No way.  Can't be.  Now, I shall quote the mantra of old people. "Where did the time go?"  50 years of  being oh, so proud of your accomplishments, oh, so scared of your antics causing major problems (Yes, your brother told me about your taking the corner on Lover's Lane on 2 wheels) and, oh, so blessed by the years of joy you have given us.

For all your tough business practices, you have a tender heart for people that will probably  embarrass you at the mere mention of it.  Get over it.  It's a mother's prerogative to embarrass the one she gave birth to.

The day your brother was born, we followed all the "expert" advice of the day.  Dad took the baby into the house and put him in the crib, then picked you up from the baby sitter's.  I was waiting at the front door with a new toy for you.  The door flew open and you raced past my open arms shouting, "Where's my baby brother!"  So much for the experts whose advice left me standing with empty arms.

You may not remember the Christmas parade in Oakdale the year we were enroute from Arizona to New Jersey.  Grandma and I stood at the back of the crowd watching you take care of your 2 year old brother and a neighbor's little girl about the same age. You talked to them the whole time, pointing out things of interest.  It's not easy to keep one two year old engrossed, let alone two, but you did it and you were only six!

A Halloween birthday made that day the busiest of the year for your mother and I apologize for being grumpier on your birthday than most other days of the year.  My grumpiness, however, was a backdrop highlighting your amazing tenderness.  The year we moved from Arizona to Hawaii was Of course, over your birthday.  We were staying with Grandma Nettles because our belongings were packed and in storage.  Since most of Grandma's neighbors didn't know you, we took you back to Ft. Huachuca where they did.

You were so excited at treats a neighbor gave you, you rushed to the car to show us.  For some reason, you stopped short in your glowing report and said, "Dad, you're hurting, aren't you?"  Dad, hadn't said a word.

"A little bit," he replied.

"Danny, get in the car.  We're going back to Grandma's.  Dad's hurting."  Never a glimmer of disappointment at your childhood tradition being cut short.  You were eleven years old.

However, you made up for it the next year, in Hawaii.  Mountains are steep, valleys deep, and flashfloods quick in Hawaii. Heavy rains can cause serious problems in a heart beat.  More than one unsuspecting person has been swept to their doom.  On Trick or Treat night, it poured.  I called the mps to ask if the night was cancelled and rescheduled.  They refused to give me an answer.  I was in a quandry (dither) because I didn't want you to miss out on the fun, but didn't want you killed in a flashflood, either.  Finally, Dad made the decision.  "Let them go.  They'll be fine."

With a stern warning that they were to return home if four neighbors said they weren't doing trick or treat in such nasty weather, I sent them on their way and wrote a letter to Grandma, complaining that your dad sent you out to surf the nearest tsunami.  You were gone for the longest time.  I paced and fretted.

When you finally relieved my anxieties by returning, your sacks were full of goodies.  Don't remember who let it slip, but you outsmarted your mother by going to the farthest end of post before knocking on any doors!  That way, if you were turned down, you could continue to collect.  After all, you were on your way home. Like Dad said when you got your first big promotion, "How'd you get so smart?"

That Christmas, Dad was hospitalized for his surgery.  Rather than fret about it, you focused on your swimming and won a bucket load of first prizes.  If I remember correctly, you won 7 first places that weekend and moved up in to the AA group.  "I'm going to pin a ribbon on every tube in Dad's body!" you crowed.  You won all those ribbons for Dad.  Amazing.

Oh, the memories, my son.  Your 12 years of patriotic service to your country in the U.S. Navy, your marriage to a woman who could not possibly be more wonderful.  Being a good dad to Jeffrey and Ashley.  Guiding them into adulthood with a firm, steady, but loving hand.  Where oh where did the time go?  Like the landscape in Hawaii, we've had steep ups and downs, but through it all, we've watched and prayed. And been grateful.

Happy birthday my son.  Love, you, Mom  



 

My bad

I received an email the other day quoting the President as saying something so reprehensible that I felt compelled to send it on.  Two good friends corrected me.  Thank you, Gary and Judy. The quote was taken completely out of context.  I'm sorry I believed it and passed it on.

Such behavior on the part of the President's opposition is wrong.  Just plain wrong.  Let me hasten to say I have no agreement with about anything our President says.  However, that does not give me or anyone else the right to stoop to sleazy tactics.  I met an honorable man in Denver many years ago who said he built his business on the principle that he would not allow himself to be  dragged into the gutter others chose to do business in.

Remember the old saying, "Cheaters never win and winners never cheat"?  Yeah, that's hard, but someday I'll stand before a holy GOD who will ask me about my actions.  Did they honor His Son, or did they shame Him?  Deceitful behavior is a lack of trust that He knows what we're up against by being honorable in a cheating world. That seems to give the cheaters an unfair advantage.  If they do win, what have they won?  When they stand before God in eternity, will they think it was worth it? When they look in the mirror now, can they do it with pride and self-confidence?  

However, if  I use the same deceitful tactics, that makes me no different. I have become as wrong as those I oppose.  I've become "The pot calling the kettle black."

There's also the understanding that words, once spoken can never be taken back.  How many people trusted me and sent that on to their address book?  Will they retract it?  And, will those who get it send it on?

One of the many things I admire about former President George W. Bush is his ability to keep quiet when liberals say things about him that are taken out of context or are outright lies.  He doesn't defend himself.  That's nobility and integrity few of us, myself included, have.  But, it's behavior, I believe, all Christians should exhibit.  How else is a world without Christ going to see a difference? It's no wonder we're considered hypocrites. The pastor reminded us just yesterday that the world will read a Bible in shoe leather long before they'll look at one in Morocco leather.  In other words, the world is watching.  

Awesome God II

God was so loving and gracious to allow Bob's heart cath to go swiftly and smoothly, bringing about such wonderful results.  Betty Elliot said after the death of her husband in the jungle of Ecuador that even if things don't go well, God is still God and worthy of our praise.  She's so right.  However, I must also sing His praises when things go well.  It will form the habit of praise at all times and God is worthy of that.

Today, He sent even more encouragement.  Xulon, the publisher of my book ran a special, making it possible for "The Color of Roses" to be advertised in the New York City book fair late next spring. It's not something I should turn down.  The calling period to take advantage of the sale is 3 hours today only, 9AM-Noon.  I debated on whether to call early and leave a voice message or take the chance of getting through when dozens, maybe hundreds, of other authors would be competing for her phone line at 9:00.

She greeted me with a merry laugh saying she had 74 voice mails to wade through!  I got to talk to her first!  I'm glad I waited.  I'm glad Bob and I prayed about spending still more money without seeing much come in.  Not only was it good to talk to a person instead of leaving a voice mail, she was so good to give me a pep talk.  Ever notice how those crop up so frequently in my blog?  God never fails to send encouragement when I get discouraged.  Awesome.  So, when am I going to believe Him and move on?

Her advice was to remember that with the first book being self-published, I became an entrepreneur and entrepreneurship always has heavy start up costs.  She said it takes 1 - 2 years to see a profit and most see a loss those first 2 years.  I was aware of that because I was a Mary Kay consultant 30+ years ago, but that doesn't make the decision on whether or not to spend more money any easier.  My high school Problems of Democracy teacher used to talk about his uncle who threw good money after bad, investing in aviation during the Depression.  It was so bad, he had to farm his kids out because he couldn't afford to feed them.  Then, WWII started and he became a very wealthy man.

Yes, I know the risks.  I also know not everyone succeeds.  That's why it's called risk, and that's where the concern comes in.  I begin to wonder if this was my idea and I asked God to bless it, or is it truly what He wants me to do?

Kimberly's next gem was, "By the way, your book did VERY WELL in the Frankfurt Book Fair." How much more encouraging could she have been?  I would hope the day is coming, sooner rather than later, when I  stop whining and presuming on God's patience and just be faithful in the small things, trusting Him in all things.  He truly is worthy of my trust.  And He's truly awesome.

Praise the Lord

I was stunned when the phone rang this morning at 8:33 and heard the doctor's voice on the other end of the line.  Bob's heart cath took less than 30 minutes to complete (half the anticipated time) and everything is fine!  So fine in fact, he couldn't find the 60% blockage the doctor saw several years ago!

Now, the hard part begins.  Keeping him quiet until the wound heals enough to keep him from bleeding to death.  Try not using the hand you use for everything for 48 hours.  Now, try to get your husband to do that.  You get my drift, I'm sure.

We still have to determine what's causing the fatigue and shortness of breath.  One friend said she hoped it turned out to be something simple like a vitamin deficiency.  An email from my cousin said her husband's problem stemmed from anemia.  The nurse mentioned anemia.  That may be the answer.  One thing is clear, "God is keeping him here for something," said my dear friend, Katherine.

When things fall together like that, I cannot help but believe God is in control.  And, He's so worthy of praise.  Our pastor said when his wife's tumor disappeared, he remembered verses in Malachi warning us against robbing God financially.  He said, "I'll not rob you of praise, either."

My first response to the doctor's call was "Praise the Lord!"  I would have said it aloud, except for the fatigue and shortness of breath, for which I now had no explanation.  Shame on me for not saying it and trusting God to take care of the rest.  The Apostle Paul claimed to be the chief of sinners.  Well, I'm the weakest and whiniest.

Truly, our God is awesome.  To think that he not only relieved us of the concern about Bob's heart, he sent 3 messages to remind me that He knows the answer and will take care of it.  Praising God for the wonderful news is such a simple thing.  I hope He ascribes to "Better late than never."

PRAISE THE LORD!

Happy Birthday

Today is Bob's 79th birthday!  Where has the time gone?  Time passing or not, he's still a feisty stinker.  In his thank you note to Mark's family for sending him money, he said he thought he'd use it for a lap dance!  Here's hoping you understand his sense of humor.

Even after almost 51 years of marriage, he still makes me laugh.  Sometimes it's an embarrassed laugh. Like the first Sunday we came to Shiloh.  Shiloh Tabernacle is not contemporary by any stretch of the imagination.  We still sing hymns and use the Kind James Bible.  Nothing wrong with that and I'm not complaining.  It's just not contemporary.  And, while they have a wonderful sense of humor, it doesn't always go along with Bob's.

That Sunday morning almost eleven years ago, there was a baby dedication.  The pastor began it with, "It wasn't too many years ago this young couple stood before me and said 'I do'."

Smart Aleck Bob whispered, "They did."  Trouble is, the WHOLE church heard him!  Everyone laughed except the pastor.  He didn't hear what made everyone laugh and I'm not about to tell him!

Bob rather sheepishly remarked on the way home that he really only intended that comment for me.  So, no, his sense of humor doesn't always go along the straight and narrow.  Guess it's because he didn't come to the straight and narrow until he was 52.

But, he is on the straight and narrow, risque sense of humor or not.  His love for the Lord cannot be doubted.  I guess his sense of humor is open to question-at times.

Regardless, a very happy birthday to the man I love and have loved for 51 years.

True confession

Anyone who's had a weight problem will understand this.  Not only have I had a weight problem, I carry it in the wrong places-mainly my belly.  In school, boys would tease me about looking pregnant before I even knew what caused it!

Therefore, I'm a sucker for anything and everything new on the market that looks like it might help. Yesterday, I spent four hours in the Seasonal Gift Shop trying to sell my book.  It didn't take me long to realize I will undoubtedly spend more than I make while there.  It's another of those inevitable weaknesses.  Working in sales takes a special discipline I apparently don't have, any more than I do about weight loss programs.

I bit.  This morning, getting ready for church, I thought perhaps all weight loss programs are probably more successful because they're so expensive and once you take the plunge, you don't want to waste the money, so you refrain from cheating. Every program works as long as you work the program.  I know.  I've been on about all of them.  And, yes, I've lost weight on all of them.  But, the paradigm shift from program to maintaining has eluded me for 57 years.

It didn't take long for my thought to prove true.  After church, I sat down, getting ready to read the paper and had the sudden urge to nibble while reading.  Before I could set the paper aside and get out of my recliner, a voice in my head screamed, "NOT AT THOSE PRICES!  Saved.  Thank you, Lord.
I'm a clean-your-plate eater, a meal time eater, an eat-to-keep-from-getting-hungry-eater, a social eater, a boredom eater, a frustrated eater, an angry eater, a self-pity eater, an exhaustion eater (the worst), an eat-the-right-thing-even-though-I'm-not-hungry eater, an I-just-want-to-try-it eater, a Baltic Pride Week eater, a Sofa Care Month eater, a Hangnail Day eater.  Yeah, I'm addicted. Unfortunately.

Actually, I want to move beyond the paradigm shift from program to maintaining to living "normally."  Maintaining has the connotation of constantly being aware that something could go wrong and I'm off and running again.  I want to shatter this loathsome god for all time.  I want to spend my thoughts seeking God's presence, not this despicable idol that interferes with my relationship with the Lord, diminishes my testimony, gives others the opportunity to treat me with contempt and consider me stupid, and puts me in embarrassingly tight clothes when I overeat and sloppy, loose ones when I'm thinner.  It's a no win situation.

However, I have hope.  I wouldn't start a new program if I didn't have hope. My greatest hope is that someday food will no longer control me.  At the moment, food controls me, even on diets. But, I'll never say die.  Pray with me and stay tuned.

Hands off

One question I never expected to hear about my book is how long it took.  I always blush a little when I say 28 years.  That even beats Jane Austen's 17 years and, back then women weren't supposed to do creative and intelligent things.

It's been said you reveal yourself in writing and I've come to realize, scary as that is, it's true. Maggie, the lead character had a lonely childhood, immersed herself in books, was fat, and depressed.  Hello. The rest of her story is pretty much made up, but when she has a discussion with her son, I can hear my Dan saying those words.  Bob was not a Christian when we met and that caused some spiritual and cultural difficulty in our marriage until he made his peace with GOD 24 years later.  There's a very slight connection there.

To me, Maggie doesn't have a sense of humor and neither do I.  If I do, it's self-deprecating. Charlie, on the other hand, does.  So does my husband.  We've lived in a small town outside Pittsburgh, hence the Steelers connection. Then, too, we've lived in Northwest Georgia.  We've moved 33 times in 50 years.  Charlie travels a great deal in his business.  Obviously, I've revealed myself as I wrote.  Even when the majority of the story is fiction, I'm still in there. My attitudes, my way of handling difficulties-it's there.

Perhaps that's one reason it took 28 years to write.  Who wants all their secrets exposed?  Another reason was a lack of self confidence.  I've waffled back and forth for years.  Will it sell?  Will it provide a message of restoration and hope for those who've made serious mistakes in their lives? Most of all, will GOD be glorified in what I've written?

There are those who've let me know fiction will not honor GOD.  They've been adamant about it. There are those who just want to be entertained and I don't write for entertainment.  I'm not condemning those who do, it's just not my calling.  The first will not be reading my book.  The second may (I hope).

Things have been a little slow at school this past week.  Correcting workbooks is generally a huge portion of my day, but there's another tutor on board and she's much faster at it than I am, so between working with boys, what to do?  I decided to reread "Pilgrim's Progress."  A work of fiction that still speaks to hearts today.  "The Color of Roses" is not in the caliber of "Pilgrim's Progress."  I might be "weird" but I'm not a fool.  However, I can think of no Christian who would castigate "Pilgrim's Progress" because it's fiction.

There's also a vicar by the name of McDonald from the 19th century whose family was starving so he began to write fiction to support his family.  In the culture of his day, some of his work may have seemed less than Christian, but he got a wonderful message of grace and mercy across.   That's what I'm trying to do.

The hardest part is that when things seem to be going well, I'm sure this is GOD's will for me.  When they're not, I begin to question.  However, there's no turning back now.  Another author friend was encouraging by reminding me there's always risk involved.  That's what happens when you surrender control to the LORD.  It's His work.  Hands off.

Ranting

Aha!  The truth is finally out.  Security at the White House was breached because the intruder over powered a female Secret Service agent.  When are we going to learn men's upper body strength is extremely difficult and almost impossible to overcome?

For years now, TV programs have shown tiny, little size 2's overpowering big thugs.  It's so misleading.  The new program, NCIS New Orleans showed the female agent banging a guy's head against the table.  NOT!  "Charlie's Angels" may have been among the first.  In your dreams, ladies.

Every time I see a woman getting physical with a guy and winning the altercation on TV, I am reminded of 2 events that proves my point.

40-50 years ago, Saturday morning TV had a circus every week. (Original reality TV)   One of the acts was a tiny woman who was a black belt in karate.  Her opponent was an enormous guy with white belt training.  She lost and left the stage, humiliated and in tears.

Fast forward to the 1980's.  A female student at a Christian college in Chicago believed "no man would ever get to her."  I never met her, but saw several pictures of her and was told her story.  She was quite strong.  Competitive swimmers lift weights as part of their training and she was a competitive swimmer.  She had swimmer's shoulders.  When she was in high school, she was accosted twice-and won both attacks, proving her belief that she was strong enough to fight off any guy.

She worked at a local YMCA as a lifeguard.  One night, she was walking back to school from work, passing through a ghetto so tough police didn't bother much to investigate murders there.  One reporter was standing on a street corner and remarked as an aside that she'd heard gunfire three times in the five minutes she'd been standing there.

Walking through the ghetto at 10 p.m. was bad enough, but she was wearing head phones.  She never heard him coming.  Three weeks later, they found her mutilated, dismembered body in a dumpster several blocks from the school.

Women need to understand more than men's upper body strength.  They also need to understand their mind set.  They are NOT going to lose, even if it means they have to cheat.  That's what happened in both cases.  The big, inexperienced guy didn't follow karate protocol.  He brushed her maneuvers off like he'd brush off a mosquito.

The woman in Chicago wasn't alert to possible danger and didn't think about weapons.  The woman who told me about it said she knew men who lived in that area who wouldn't go out alone at night.

I saw understanding the mind set as part of the situation between our two sons.  The oldest is not nearly as big as his younger brother.  When he bullied him in their childhood, I would say, in frustration, "When you're adults, he's going to get even."

When my oldest came home basic training, he slipped up behind his brother and grabbed him.  My youngest was powerless-more because he adored his older brother than the lack of physical strength.

The news that a female agent was overpowered by the intruder sent me off on this  bent (rant according to my husband).  Regardless, if some young girl reads this and decides to be more alert and careful, I'm grateful and I'll continue to rant.

In fact, in my books, the lead character is protective of the woman he loves.  I think that's one reason why women who've read the one that's been published like him.  Two women have said if I know any "Charlie's," let them know!

For your won sake, please, wake up, girls.