At one point, in my young life, I sent a true story to magazines. My grandmother and most faithful cheerleader urged me and helped me with a list of magazines she thought would snatch it up. None did. They didn't believe it was true. It was about an LSD trip, my one and only such trip. Looking back, it was really 'out there'... though well written, we both thought.
They trickled in, one rejection letter after another. I thought I would never write again, and then Reader's Digest accepted a short anecdote and I felt somewhat avenged. I had been published!
Yesterday I was pretty down in the dumps. I was rejected by a cable company. The job seemed to fit my resume, but I didn't fit what they were looking for, apparently.
So, today I am on Craig's List and have applied for 8 other jobs in the area. I also spoke with my previous manager and feel assured I could maybe find work in my old company if I am willing to move. So, there is hope.
No one knows the future, but God knows the plans he has for me and I am trusting Him. With God, there is always hope for a new tomorrow, for a new life, for a new home with Him!
Wednesday, February 10, 2010
Saturday, January 30, 2010
Another death in the neighborhood....
A couple years ago we started going to the lakes for the summer. The last two years we have had winter stays in Minnesota, as well.
One time, we came back to a next-door neighbor who had a brain tumor. He died a week later. We kept watch and cared for his widow, a dear, confused lady. The next time we came back home, she died a few days later, before we had a chance to reconnect with her. I remember being very concerned because I hadn't seen her. I went next door and knocked but there was no answer. I found out later that she had been living in a retirement home the last few months and her funeral was less than a week after we got back. I heard this from another neighbor the day after her funeral.
So fast-forward to this present year. I have renewed my morning walks with Belle and, although we stop at her "boyfriend's" house every day, he doesn't run to the fence for a kiss, as usual. Yesterday, I stopped to talk with the kids who were delivering groceries for their aging mom...I explained who I was and asked about their dog. I was told that his kidneys had failed and she had to 'put him down'. We were so sad that I didn't think it was very polite to ask the dog's name. We always referred to him as Belle's boyfriend.
She was always excited to go there and they went through the peeing ritual, as close to the fence as possible. The aging male labrador would get on his hind legs on the corner of the fence, then she would look, pleadingly, up at me for a lift. I would lift her up and she would turn her head away like she was tolerating his sloppy lick on the neck but not enjoying it, and then want down. I know she enjoyed it. I know she misses him. Everyday we cross the road, we go to the fence and she looks for him. Eventually, she won't. She may even find a new boyfriend.
He was so faithful, always waiting. She knows he is gone. Maybe she understands english better than we know. Maybe she has an inner instinct that tells her after a week, he is history. Maybe she didn't care as much as I thought; I hear that we try to give human characteristics to our pets. However, I believe she is being brave, perhaps she cries in her pillowed bed, but I know that pets make us feel good...and I think she is being brave for me.
I love you, Belle, and he did too! We didn't know his name, but he was a neighbor, created by God, and we miss him.
One time, we came back to a next-door neighbor who had a brain tumor. He died a week later. We kept watch and cared for his widow, a dear, confused lady. The next time we came back home, she died a few days later, before we had a chance to reconnect with her. I remember being very concerned because I hadn't seen her. I went next door and knocked but there was no answer. I found out later that she had been living in a retirement home the last few months and her funeral was less than a week after we got back. I heard this from another neighbor the day after her funeral.
So fast-forward to this present year. I have renewed my morning walks with Belle and, although we stop at her "boyfriend's" house every day, he doesn't run to the fence for a kiss, as usual. Yesterday, I stopped to talk with the kids who were delivering groceries for their aging mom...I explained who I was and asked about their dog. I was told that his kidneys had failed and she had to 'put him down'. We were so sad that I didn't think it was very polite to ask the dog's name. We always referred to him as Belle's boyfriend.
She was always excited to go there and they went through the peeing ritual, as close to the fence as possible. The aging male labrador would get on his hind legs on the corner of the fence, then she would look, pleadingly, up at me for a lift. I would lift her up and she would turn her head away like she was tolerating his sloppy lick on the neck but not enjoying it, and then want down. I know she enjoyed it. I know she misses him. Everyday we cross the road, we go to the fence and she looks for him. Eventually, she won't. She may even find a new boyfriend.
He was so faithful, always waiting. She knows he is gone. Maybe she understands english better than we know. Maybe she has an inner instinct that tells her after a week, he is history. Maybe she didn't care as much as I thought; I hear that we try to give human characteristics to our pets. However, I believe she is being brave, perhaps she cries in her pillowed bed, but I know that pets make us feel good...and I think she is being brave for me.
I love you, Belle, and he did too! We didn't know his name, but he was a neighbor, created by God, and we miss him.
Friday, December 18, 2009
Angels at Toys R Us
Tell me that you, too, have been in a hurry...trying to get a number of things accomplished in a specific, unrealistic amount of time. Unfortunately, it is sometimes seems like a way of life for me, especially when I am 'on the road'.
Like now, I am a visitor to the 'homeland' where I grew up, staying with my daughter, trying to help out and trying to DO Christmas. In fact, I am trying to DO Christmas without my best friend and help-mate, Jim. In fact, I am not even ready to TRY to DO Christmas.
So, I had 2-1/2 hours when I left the house. Plenty of time to get an oil change and do some Christmas shopping before supper. That was before the 1-1/2 hour oil change...ok, 1 hour left. I can at least make a quick stop for toys. And I would have made it home on time if I wouldn't have had to get off the Interstate to go back, risking life and limb (ok, that is a bit dramatic) on an icy highway then hitting all the red lights before getting back to Toys R Us.
Crying, pleading, and praying all the way...I called on God, Jesus, The Holy Spirit, my guardian angel, and any guardian angels who may be in the area...please, please, please! It only took me 12 minutes, but it felt like 30 and I drove right up to the outdoors buggy corral in the row I had originally parked...No! Not There!
I ran into the store and cried out over the other customers at the courtesy desk..."Did anyone find a purse in the parking lot?!!" Oh, yes, some nice man brought it in! Follow me, ma'm! "Oh, thank You, God!" What color is it? "Brown! Yes, that's it!" I hugged that young man so hard he had to cough and clear his throat before I backed off!
So, I have to thank the angels at Toys R Us! Once I got home, I checked, nothing missing! Oh, God, I am so sorry that I am rushing through this season of Jesus' birth with so many mundane thoughts in my head and errands on my mind. Help me be mindful of You and the greatest gift the world has ever received!
Wednesday, December 9, 2009
Savoring This Time
I am sitting in a cold, dark motel room watching my sweet, two-year old grandson sleep. He is covered up in a Mickey Mouse towel and his Grandma Mavis' sweatshirt-style robe...you could say he is wrapped in love.
As I look out on the ice and snow, listening to the cars and trucks lumbering tires upon the snow-packed pavement, I think that this is where I am supposed to be at this place in time. It is, in some way, a desolate place to be just before Christmas, certainly not for those who live here...but perhaps for those who have to be here and away from home. It brings to mind the plight of Mary and Joseph on the night baby Jesus was born. They did not pick that place.
We are here for our miracle, believing God. Briggs' heart sugery is scheduled for 9:30 am tomorrow and Grandpa Chet and Grandma Kim will take over caring for this sleeping angel while I wait on Tracy and Jeremy's family: Mom, Mavis...Dad, Curt...sister, Stacy wait on him. We will all be waiting for good word from the surgical staff.
In the recovery days that follow, I will have the privilege of accompanying Owen in his coloring endeavors, walking around, playing, puzzling, reading...etc. I am not just putting in my time but will savor this time, make memories with this time and enjoy every minute I can with him.
As I look out on the ice and snow, listening to the cars and trucks lumbering tires upon the snow-packed pavement, I think that this is where I am supposed to be at this place in time. It is, in some way, a desolate place to be just before Christmas, certainly not for those who live here...but perhaps for those who have to be here and away from home. It brings to mind the plight of Mary and Joseph on the night baby Jesus was born. They did not pick that place.
We are here for our miracle, believing God. Briggs' heart sugery is scheduled for 9:30 am tomorrow and Grandpa Chet and Grandma Kim will take over caring for this sleeping angel while I wait on Tracy and Jeremy's family: Mom, Mavis...Dad, Curt...sister, Stacy wait on him. We will all be waiting for good word from the surgical staff.
In the recovery days that follow, I will have the privilege of accompanying Owen in his coloring endeavors, walking around, playing, puzzling, reading...etc. I am not just putting in my time but will savor this time, make memories with this time and enjoy every minute I can with him.
Wednesday, November 4, 2009
Oooo Smell That Smell...
No, not the song. I am talking about the memories that certain smells evoke. No, not the one where Dad says, "Pull my finger!" I think we all have that one somewhere in our past---a Dad, brother, uncle, Grandpa...but always a guy. The men just seem to master control of muscles and body functions that we girls would never think of!
I've gotten back into the somewhat daily routine of walking with Belle and it is Autumn is Georgia. The leaves are starting to fall and they are beautiful in their death robes of crimson, brilliant orange, and yellow. Of course, Belle has more primitive urges to take care of while I contemplate God's beauty in Nature...smell that mailbox, squirrel!, smell that ditch, squirrel!, oh look-another dog, grrrr!
AS I walk along, I can pick out scents that I can see no evidence of. The air smells not just of freshly mowed grass and back-yard grills, but radishes, sweet peas, carrots, onions, corn husks all jumbled together. Then FLASH, I am back in Dad's garden, weeding, helping harvest, pulling up a carrot, wiping the dirt on my jeans, and taking a big bite with a huge smile on my face.
That was in north Moorhead (MN.) in the corner of the backyard. I thought our garden was huge until I got a little older and we were living on the old Cook farmstead south of Fargo (N.D.) and we had a whole pasture at our disposal. First we used a little piece of it, which grew each year...then started to dwindle down again as we kids got older and weren't around as much.
I sure miss the garden and I sure miss my Dad. I think about him so often, and especially in the Fall when the air is so rich with the scents that seemed to cling to him. Do you smell that smell? Isn't it glorious!?!
I've gotten back into the somewhat daily routine of walking with Belle and it is Autumn is Georgia. The leaves are starting to fall and they are beautiful in their death robes of crimson, brilliant orange, and yellow. Of course, Belle has more primitive urges to take care of while I contemplate God's beauty in Nature...smell that mailbox, squirrel!, smell that ditch, squirrel!, oh look-another dog, grrrr!
AS I walk along, I can pick out scents that I can see no evidence of. The air smells not just of freshly mowed grass and back-yard grills, but radishes, sweet peas, carrots, onions, corn husks all jumbled together. Then FLASH, I am back in Dad's garden, weeding, helping harvest, pulling up a carrot, wiping the dirt on my jeans, and taking a big bite with a huge smile on my face.
That was in north Moorhead (MN.) in the corner of the backyard. I thought our garden was huge until I got a little older and we were living on the old Cook farmstead south of Fargo (N.D.) and we had a whole pasture at our disposal. First we used a little piece of it, which grew each year...then started to dwindle down again as we kids got older and weren't around as much.
I sure miss the garden and I sure miss my Dad. I think about him so often, and especially in the Fall when the air is so rich with the scents that seemed to cling to him. Do you smell that smell? Isn't it glorious!?!
Thursday, October 29, 2009
Long Live the King of Tomfoolery!
I am helping out our Missions pastor, doing volunteer work a couple days a week at my church. A few weeks ago, my husband asked me to take a picture of one of the pastors, Brother Charlie. I asked him why, I can't just blindly obey, you know. He said he wanted to make masks and wear them to our church's alternative to the traditional Halloween, Fall Festival. I thought it was kinda silly and a little lame and, in truth, didn't think it would even happen...but I dutifully said yes and took my camera to work. I did this for a couple weeks but could never catch him.
Finally, I met him in the coffee room Monday. I asked if I could take his picture then realized I didn't have my camera that day. He said, "Get your cell phone." YAY! He asked why and I said, "It's a surprise!" He shrugged his shoulders and obliged me. What trust! I can learn a thing or two from him, I thought! My mind said... I hope he won't be sorry for trusting me!
Well, Jim spent an hour or so at the Office Depot trying to size it right and making 40 copies on heavier photo paper, then another hour or so purchasing elastic and making about 8-10 masks before he ran out of elastic. I picked up more and we did an assembly line, sort of. He cut out the eyes with a razor blade then I cut the face out, leaving tabs at the ears to fold over for more stability for the staples. Then Jim measured and cut elastic and stapled it to the mask. It took over an hour. I was surprised at the amount of work that went into a practical joke! (Maybe that was the joke on us!)
Jim had me run a picture up to the church to post on Charlie's door, as a preview. We modeled our masks for each other and I had a premonition I would regret the ability to have peripheral vision on a dark night in a crowd. (I was right!) We wore our matching caps backwards so the masks fit better, but that was also a rather signature "Charlie" style. I thought we should wear them right away...Jim thought if we did so, we would be swamped for the extra's...but it was quite the opposite.
First of all, we saw Charlie and he hooted...he loved it! We had our picture taken together and he asked for a mask...only 36 to give away now! We were not swamped, in fact, we had to explain what we were doing alot of the time. Some thought it was funny, some thought it was mean, some wouldn't even talk to us! The most open to taking a mask and wearing it were children! Some were visitors and didn't even know Bro. Charlie...but laughed and took a mask! Some people followed us to get a better look..."See, I told you is was Brother Charlie!" I heard one say to his wife. Some folks took part but it was nothing like we thought it would be. As we were leaving, we got more requests but after 1-1/2 hour we had finally gotten rid of all our masks and somewhere, there were 40 (including the original, Charlie Bibbs running around.
In retrospect, I remain surprised at some of our acquaintences' lack of a sense of humor, or misunderstanding why we did this...thinking it was, in some way, a hostile act. My husband Jim is like a little boy, as our kids and grandkids can attest to...and if there were an election for a King of Tomfoolery, he would certainly gain a spot on the ballot. That's one of his qualiies I cherish, but also one that can irk me at times when I don't let my sense of fun into our conversations. We are so thankful for Brother Charlie Bibb and the fun he injects into our church family and worship experiences. He would be on the ballot, too!
Saturday, October 24, 2009
Not Skin Deep
Sometimes I feel very unlovely. I learned long ago, in a Beth Moore study, "Free To be Me", that feelings of low self-worth are actually another form of pride. (It was the study after "Breaking Free" and I may have the title wrong, but I remember that week's lesson vividly.) When I am feeling down on myself, I am concentrating only on myself...I am being selfish...rather than focusing my life on my Lord and Savior.
I was having one of those days, or weeks, earlier in the month and as I tried to get to sleep one night, the Lord gave me a very simple poem that prompted a prayer I thought I would share:
Thank You for today
Thank You, Lord.
Thanks for the beauty
You've created in this world.
Thank You for the beauty
All around me that I see.
And thank You for the beauty
I may not see in me.
Dear Lord,
You have created me to be the perfect me and there is beauty in everything that has come from You. I have that measure of beauty that You have blessed me with, which make me ME. Please forgive me when I do not act, think, or speak beautifully. I owe You so much more than that. I love You.
In the mighty name of Jesus,
AMEN
I was having one of those days, or weeks, earlier in the month and as I tried to get to sleep one night, the Lord gave me a very simple poem that prompted a prayer I thought I would share:
Thank You for today
Thank You, Lord.
Thanks for the beauty
You've created in this world.
Thank You for the beauty
All around me that I see.
And thank You for the beauty
I may not see in me.
Dear Lord,
You have created me to be the perfect me and there is beauty in everything that has come from You. I have that measure of beauty that You have blessed me with, which make me ME. Please forgive me when I do not act, think, or speak beautifully. I owe You so much more than that. I love You.
In the mighty name of Jesus,
AMEN
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