Concern for my "Reputation"

Sometimes I think I am back in junior high school, even though I am at a retirement community.

It has been pointed out to me by multiple people that they have seen me sitting with a man in church.  I have, in fact, sat with this man and his girlfriend for most of the past three years, which no one seems to have noticed.  When I lost Bill, my neighbor B.H. noticed me sitting alone in church.  He told me that he and his girlfriend J.V. would be happy to have me sit with them.  This was a great kindness to me.  But, J.V. died this summer.  Should I abandon B.H. when he has just lost the person he loved?  He was kind to me when I lost the person I loved.  I think it would be unkind and rude to sit elsewhere…so…I guess people can continue to talk.

I can give them plenty more tidbits, if they need them.  I have recently accepted rides home on the golf cart of B.B.  This has resulted in some meaningful conversation.  I sometimes email P.D., often with prayer requests.  I go out of my way to check and see if G.G. is at his garden.  When I switched gardens, he expressed sadness that I was no longer in the garden adjacent to his and, therefore, no longer available to talk to him.  So, I now look for him.  At Christmas time, I take cookies to W.S. and B.L. and J.I. if he is not out of town. This is a tradition that began when their wives and my Bill were alive.  I see no reason to quit. 

 When interacting with another widow, I can hug her, hold her hand while praying with her, invite her to my apartment for a meal, suggest we get together at the Café or one of the onsite restaurants.  I would not do any of these things with an unattached man.  But, I can offer kindness and conversation.

I am not now and never have been a flirt.  I am not “on the prowl” trying to add some man to my life.  Do I enjoy the company of men?  Yes…I always have.  I had brothers, no sisters.  My only girl cousin died in childhood, so I had all boy cousins.  When the family gathered at my maternal grandparents’ home, the women sat in the kitchen talking, while the men sat in the living room.  Little Ruthie sat in the living room with the men.  The conversation there was much more interesting. 

I had lots of “brothers” in both high school and college.  Sometimes, I thought I knew them better than their girlfriends did.  They didn’t need to project a certain image with me.  I majored in chemistry in college, and at that time, it was dominated by males.  I had no problem being the only female in the room.

At my last full-time job, I coordinated our hospital’s participation in an NCI funded prostate cancer research project.  I had 34 men enrolled and saw them twice a year for 8 years. I was careful to maintain a professional approach.  At the beginning, the men were sometimes accompanied by their wives or girlfriends.  When that no longer happened, I figured the women knew they could trust me.

I always believed flirtation was manipulative and dishonest.  I didn’t even engage in it with Bill.  After we had dated several months, he said, “You know, I wouldn’t mind if you flirted with me.”   After we were married, it was a different story.   I loved to flirt with him.  One of my daughters recently remarked that when we washed windows, he would wash the outside, and I would wash the inside, and we would flirt with each other through the glass.  I do not flirt with any other window washers.

So, men are absolutely safe with me.   I am 80 years old, and it is too late to alter my behavior.   I will continue to enjoy conversation with men and even sit with them if it seems like the right thing to do.

It’s actually pretty amusing that this could even be a concern at my age.  Ha!

Charlie Kirk

Before Charlie Kirk was killed, I had no knowledge about him.  I had never even heard of him, but I am not a young person on a college campus.  I am an eighty-year-old living in a retirement community most of the year.  Over the past 2 days, I have read about and seen news segments about Charlie Kirk.  I recognize that he is a polarizing figure.

It is interesting to me that people can look at the same individual and see two very different people.  One group sees him as a kind, thoughtful, intelligent man who had the ability to speak truth and engage in discussion.  The opposite camp sees him as mean and hateful.  How can this be the same person?

It appears to me that those who were in close personal relationships are the ones who see him as kind and thoughtful.  It is those who disagree with what he boldly proclaimed that see him as hateful.

I am not a MAGA person, although I do tend toward conservative viewpoints.  I agree with some Trump policies and not others.  I could refer you to a blog I wrote years ago in which I expressed horror that Trump was to be the Republican candidate, so obviously I would not be in total agreement with Kirk’s support of Trump, but I do believe that Kirk was a truth-teller.

When a person hears someone express that their lifestyle is wrong, sinful or immoral, they don’t want to hear it.  If they defiantly hold to their position, they become angry.  They perceive the truthteller as hateful.  Over the course of my life, I have had some experience with this.  I have at times been hated for telling the truth.  However, I can also think of someone who later thanked me for speaking the truth when no one else would.  It had made a difference in her life.

At the point where Kirk was shot, he had just been questioned about how many transgender individuals had been involved in mass shootings.  Someone has viewed his response as “flippant.”  That is not what I hear when I listen to the video.  He obviously could not have answered the question he was asked with a specific number.  After the follow-up question, he asked a question for clarification.  If this is what triggered the shot, the individual was just looking for an excuse to fire…which given the amount of preparation required was almost certainly the case.

I believe all human beings deserve compassion, and that includes transgender people.  But we need to be honest, that transgenderism is harmful to the people who are practicing this lifestyle.  Promoting it and normalizing it is not helpful to anyone.  I do not believe that suicide rates are higher among transgenders because they are not accepted by society.  I believe they cannot accept themselves.  When we hate ourselves, the hatred bubbles over to others.

Our nation is being torn in two by opposing viewpoints.  The answer to this is not violence.  I am appalled by calls for civil war.  We cannot answer violence with violence, but I do fear for what may happen.  Our society is on a wrong path.  Things I believe to be truth are being called “hate speech.”   Most conservatives have tolerated angry rhetoric, because we live in a country where we are supposed to have free speech.  Apparently, conservatives are not granted the same privilege.

“For the time will come when people will not put up with sound doctrine.  Instead, to suit their own desires, they will gather around them a great number of teachers to say what their itching ears want to hear.  They will turn their ears away from the truth and turn aside to myths.  But you, keep your head in all situations…”  II Timothy 4:3-5

What Am I?

What am I that you are mindful of me?

            You count the hairs on my head,

            You care if I’m clothed and I’m fed,

            You were willing to die in my stead.

            What am I?

 

            You count me as one of your sheep,

            You watch over me while I sleep,

            You bottle my tears when I weep.

            What am I?

           

            A recipient of your grace,

            Though unworthy to look on your face,

            In heaven, you’ve saved me a place.

            What am I?

 

            Though no worthy offering I bring,

            Yet to this precious promise I cling,

            What am I?

            I am a child of the King.

The Trees of Genesis and Revelation

Every day before us lies,

The knowledge of that tree,

Good and evil, right and wrong,

A haunting enemy.

 

Dogging now our every step,

Standing in our way,

For that knowledge there is now,

A price we all must pay.

 

Gone the life of innocence,

Swallowed up by pride,

Steeped in adversity,

No place for us to hide.

 

Adam ate the bitter fruit,

It now is in our bowl,

A pleasure to our eyes,

But bitter to the soul.

 

Yet leaves from the Tree of Life,

Are there to heal our nation,

Life-giving branches,

A means of our salvation.

Adventures with Batman

I always smile when I think of an incident that happened in the summer of 1967.  I was between my junior and senior years of college, having already finished nursing school.  I had come home to live with my parents for the summer, and I was working as an RN at the local hospital, which still had a diploma nursing school program, so they had a nurses’ dorm.

Bill, my then boyfriend (later my husband), and I had begun dating the prior summer.  It was our habit to attend the Sunday evening church service together, and then go to his parents’ home for something to eat after church.  Typically, we had a big dinner and weren’t hungry for supper until late in the evening.  His mother had often served roast beef for Sunday dinner, so there was beef left over for sandwiches.

One evening, Bill had fixed roast beef sandwiches with lettuce, tomato and mayo, and we were enjoying those when the phone rang.  The call was for Bill, and the caller was a student nurse who we knew from church.  She was calling from the nurses’ dorm in an agitated state.  It seems that there was a bat flying around in a suite of bedrooms in the dorm, and there was no one available in hospital maintenance to get rid of it.  The girls were damsels in distress, and for some reason, they decided Bill was the person to call.

Whether this was flirtation on the part of the caller, I was not sure.  One thing I was sure of was that my boyfriend was not going to go into the nurses’ dorm by himself! 

I rode along to the nurses’ dorm and went in with Bill.  The housemother and several girls were milling about in the lobby of the residence, afraid to enter the suite where the bat had been seen.  One of the girls handed Bill a badminton racquet.  I chuckled to myself that it was a BAT-minton racquet.  The girls pointed to a door into the suite, and off Bill went.  We could hear the sound of him moving about and the swish of the racquet.  I think it was less than 5 minutes when he returned with the bat wrapped in a paper towel.

The girls were grateful.  He disposed of the bat.  I felt tagging along with him had made it clear he was mine!

Afterward, I sometimes laughingly called him Batman.

The Dawn

If I had stood at Calvary and viewed the darkness there,

Looked up and seen my dying friend, and felt the deep despair,

Of seeing helpless him on whom I thought I could depend,

I think I might have cried out, “Oh, God…this is the end.”

 

If I had stood outside the tomb and seen the awful stone,

That sealed in the kindest man that I had ever known,

I might have thought, “He wasn’t God, he was only just at friend.”

And in my grief, I would have sobbed, “Oh, God…this is the end!”

 

But a new day was coming.  There was sunrise near at hand.

There would be a brand new morning.  New life was in the plan,

For Christ conquered death and rose again upon that Easter morn,

And just as surely as He lives, we too will see the dawn.

 

So if today you stand here, so overwhelmed by life,

If you cannot make sense of the confusion and the strife,

Put your faith in Him who conquered death, eternity you’ll spend,

In lifting up your praise to Him, this life is not the end!

 

For a new day is coming.  There is sunrise near at hand.

There will be a brand new morning.  New life is in the plan,

For Christ conquered death and rose again upon an Easter morn,

And just as surely as He lives, we too will see the dawn.

Lost Mate

She sits alone in the nest,

Scanning the sky,

With a plaintive cry.

 

She hasn’t repaired her nest.

She sits motionless, still,

Not using her skill.

 

Quietly with a heart needing repair,

Am I, scanning the sky,

Wondering “why?”

 

I understand her loneliness and grief.

Letting time slip by,

The osprey and I.

 

At least, she can fly.

Dream or Vision

I fell asleep one afternoon,

Was it a dream or vision?

A tunnel gray and long,

Raised an intriguing decision.

 

Should I enter quickly?

Carefully tiptoe inside?

Or race ahead recklessly,

Caution thrown aside?

 

The light at the end

Was not white, as expected.

A warm yellow glow

Towards me was directed.

 

Wispy cloud-like beings

Drifted across the light,

Not wraiths, but angels,

A tantalizing sight.

 

But as I stood and pondered,

“Has my time come?”

The tunnel walls collapsed.

And the dream was gone.

 

I woke up disappointed.

“I am still here,” I thought.

Perhaps, the next time will bring,

The heavenly peace I’ve sought.

Dining at the Table

 

 

Dining at the Table

 

We sat at a table on our first date.

It was in a restaurant.

I don’t remember what we ate,

But the conversation was appetizing.

 

For decades we sat at a dinner table,

Sharing the important and the trivial,

Talking through the chatter of children,

Nourished by both food and conversation.

 

We sat at a table one Saturday evening,

Not knowing it was the last time.

Later, I could not remember what we ate.

Only the freshly baked blueberry muffins.

 

Now I sit at a table with one placemat,

Picking at tasteless morsels,

While devouring rich memories,

Gourmet leftovers reheated.