What's going on between my ears?

Sometimes I ponder a question that I suspect could result in insanity if I pursued it too far:  Do any of us really know each other?  I have been married to the same man for 45 years and know him better than anyone else does.  He knows me better than anyone else does.  But, do we really KNOW each other?

We all spend our waking hours thinking with some degree of control over those thoughts.  We spend our sleeping hours with our brains in a state which I do not understand and over which we don’t seem to have much control.  Even we don’t remember all of what passes through our minds while sleeping, but let’s not worry about that right now.  There is enough to be concerned about regarding what is processed during waking hours.

Someone once accused me of saying everything I think.  Oh, boy!  He was very mistaken on that notion.  My brain is endlessly busy all day long.  I think about people and their actions.  I “write” stories or fragments of them which will never appear in print.  I invent dialogues between me and someone I know or someone I create with my imagination.  I think about conversations I overhear in public and how they might fit into the context of the speaker’s life.  I remodel houses and plan sewing projects.  I talk to God all day about all sorts of things, and I pray for people as I think of them.  But, sometimes I start traveling down a dark road…what nasty thing might I be able to get away with?  I stop myself before I travel very far….no…no…I refuse to think about that.

The point is that my dear husband, who knows me better than anyone, is unaware of about 90% of what I think.  I am certainly unaware of what he is thinking about all day.  Occasionally, he will tell me something that he has obviously been pondering for weeks or months and hasn’t previously mentioned.  I am surprised…huh?  I had no idea he was thinking about that!

None of us knows what is going on in another’s mind.  Is it just white noise or are the wheels actually turning?  Am I typical, or am I an “outlier” because my gears seem to rotate non-stop at a rapid rate?  We each only know what has been sufficiently filtered that the other person feels safe sharing it.  What is being guarded behind the locked door?

For the word of God is living and active.  Sharper than any double-edged sword, it penetrates even to dividing soul and spirit, joints and marrow: it judges the thoughts and attitudes of the heart.  Nothing in all creation is hidden from God’s sight.  Everything is uncovered and laid bare before the eyes of him to whom we must give account.  Hebrews 4:12-13

Someone does know my thoughts and yours.  He knows us in a way we cannot possibly know each other.  Fortunately for us, He loves us anyway.

You know you are in California when...

We are in California visiting with our son and his wife. Today while they were at work, we decided to drive from Mountain View through San Francisco and across the Golden Gate Bridge to the Muir Woods National Monument to see the redwoods.

On the way there, I realized, much to my annoyance, that I had forgotten my camera. It was in the side pocket of my backpack which I had left at their apartment. I would have loved to have taken a picture of the bridge or a picture from the bridge of San Francisco Bay. The coastal redwoods are much too impressive to actually be captured in a photo.

We hiked through the forest...further than we meant to when we started out. The trail was muddy and slippery from recent rain, but the trees were awe-inspiring. It is overwhelming to stand among them looking up and realize their immensity. Later we drove further up the mountain and then down the west side where we could see the ocean from a lookout area. Way below us was the Pacific crashing against the shoreline. Again, it would have made an amazing photo.

However, the picture I most missed taking was of a sign I saw on the way back to the parking lot. You know you are in California when you see a sign that says, "First Amendment Rights Area." Underneath the title was the explanation that this was the designated area in which individuals wishing to express their first amendment rights could do so. Seriously??? There are designated areas for such?! Does any other state in the union do this?

I once heard someone say that a long time ago, the country was tilted to the west, and all the nuts rolled to California. Maybe he was right.

Respect and Disrespect in Denver

Last evening we arrived in the Denver airport and boarded the shuttle train to the baggage pick-up area. Apparently someone was in the doorway the first time the doors attempted to close.

A recorded message said, "Please stand clear of the doors. You are delaying the departure of this train."

Huh???? Nothing like being dissed by a recorded message!

"Oh, wow," I said to my husband. "Welcome to Denver. Whose brilliant idea do you suppose that was?"

With a smirk, he responded with the name of someone that he knows I think is disrespectful and insensitive.

"Hmmmm....I didn't know her influence extended this far!"

Seriously, wasn't there a better and more polite way to ask a person to remove his carcass from the doorway?

How about, "Please stand clear of the doors, so that the train may proceed."

"Please be sure you are not blocking the doors, so that they will close properly."

"Please allow the doors to close by moving all the way onto the train."

One would think that every attempt would be made to welcome an arriving visitor with a politely worded message.

We retrieved our baggage and found the car rental shuttle.

I noticed during the ride that a young man on the shuttle seemed to be looking at me. I wondered why. If I had been 35 years younger, I would have thought he was admiring my good looks.

When we arrived at the car rental, my husband jumped up, grabbed his suitcase and put it out on the sidewalk first. Before the young man could have even assessed whether my husband would come back to help me, he stepped over to me.

"I'll get your suitcase for you. Is it OK if I sit it right out here on the sidewalk for you?"

Ah...so now I know what he was thinking. "That poor old lady looks tired. I'll give her a hand."

I found myself thinking old lady thoughts.

"Oh, what a nice young man!"

So just in case you care, there is disrespect and respect in Denver.

We humans have a choice as to how we treat each other every day in every city.

Moving in the Right Direction

I am filled with a sense of relief that things are moving in the right direction.

Twelve days ago, my father-in-law fell in the bathroom and did a number on his left forearm. A large flap of skin was left hanging. The doctor decided not to remove it, hoping that circulation would reestablish and the wound would heal without the loose flap needing to be cut off.

Each day when I have dressed the wound, I have been concerned about the extreme discoloration of the wedge shaped flap. Various shades of deep purple, sometimes with yellow patches have had me worried.

Yesterday I went with him to the follow-up doctor appointment. Much to my relief, there was finally some improvement. Today the improvement was even more significant. There are a couple of very small edges that clearly aren't going back into place and will eventually come off, but the bulk of the tissue appears to be healing.

Each day I have evaluated the situation and found it static. I was waiting for it to get worse, so that I could make the decision to get him back to the doctor, or to improve so that I could exhale with relief. Turning the corner is a very good thing.

At this time of the year, I can see nature turning a corner. We still have lots of snow and freezing temperatures, but the sun is higher in the sky. The cold doesn't seem quite as bitter. South-facing snowbanks are showing signs of melting and creeping back from the edges of the roads and sidewalks. We are moving in the right direction.

Healing happens.

Spring comes.

Balancing on the edge of a situation is stressful. Knowing which way you are going, even if it is in a negative direction, at least gives you an inkling as to what your course of action should be. It's the not knowing that is unnerving.

Unwarranted Familiarity

I absolutely hate it when people I don't know call me "honey" or "sweetie" or "dear."

When I was in nursing school back in the dark ages, we were instructed never to use such terminology with patients. It was viewed as inappropriately familiar, and therefore, lacking in respect.

Having people address me this way seems to be happening with increasing frequency, and I am struggling with how to respond, or whether I should respond at all. I suppose the gracious thing to do is to let it roll off. But, depending on the tone or context in which it is said, it can be downright condescending.

I suppose this is pride on my part just bubbling to the surface, but I find myself wondering....

Do I really look like a honey or sweetie or dear? Most people actually find me a bit intimidating. Do I secretly like being intimidating, and is that why it makes me mad when a stranger calls me by a familiar term?

Am I starting to look like a doddering old lady? Are they thinking, "Oh, the poor, sweet, old dear."

Is it just a generational thing? When I was young I was taught not to address my elders that way, so is it that I just can't accept such unwarranted familiarity now being in vogue?

Earlier this week, I was in a J. C. Penney store at the mall. I found what I wanted to purchase and began the search for an open checkout station. It was clearly past opening time on the store clock, but the checkouts at both the back and side entrances were unattended, and no clerk was in sight. I wandering into the center of the store where a clerk was at the jewelry counter. I asked if there was a checkout open somewhere. I was, of course, hoping she would offer to check my purchase out right there. But her response was, "Why the front check-out is open, honey."

I muttered, "I'm not your honey."

She said, "Pardon me?"

I repeated with a sigh, "I'm not your honey."

"Oh, I'm sorry."

I know I made her feel bad, and so I felt guilty. It was the tone that got me. Of course, I probably would have found the front check-out open eventually by myself, but I had entered at the back of the store, the store was supposedly open, she didn't offer to check out the item herself, and then she called me HONEY!"

A couple of years ago, I went into a flooring store to order some laminate. We were remodeling the kitchen at the time. The salesman was young enough to be my son and maybe even my grandson. The entire conversation was sprinkled with "sweetie." Finally I couldn't take it anymore, and I said, "I am NOT your sweetie."

He looked shocked. I suppose it is such a habit, that he doesn't even know he does it.

Recently my computer needed repair. The owner of the shop, who I would guess to be close to my age, kept calling me 'dear.' I didn't say anything to him, but I thought, "If I was his wife it would bother me that he calls other women 'dear.' It would cheapen the term."

I later learned, he is divorced. Hmmmmmm.

I wonder if our society is so lacking in genuine intimacy, that people attempt to make up for it by using terms of endearment on a routine basis. Personally, I am reserving 'honey,' 'sweetie' and 'dear' for my children and grandchildren. My husband is 'my love' and absolutely no one else gets that!

Choosing Life

I caught a bit of the Larry King show a couple nights ago. Representatives from Focus on the Family and NOW were going at each other over the controversial ad scheduled to play during the Superbowl this Sunday.

Apparently Focus on the Family developed this ad based on the story of a very talented college quarterback whose mother was encouraged to abort him. They see the ad as a celebration of choosing life. NOW sees it as anti-abortion and disrespectful of a woman's right to chose.

I may have to actually watch the Superbowl this year...or not. The ad will probably appear on the internet as soon as it has played during the game.

In any event, it made me think about my own experience. I became pregnant just about 24 years ago, two months before my 41st birthday. Our youngest child at the time was 13, and the "empty nest" was in sight. We had not planned the pregnancy. We had been using birth control, but.... even the mathematically gifted occasionally make miscalculations.

Neither my husband nor I were upset by the news. Although we thought we had our hands full with the children we already had, I had told God many times over the years that if He, in His wisdom, knew we should have another child, that was just fine with me. So, both my husband and I reacted with an "oh-what-a-good-idea-why-didn't-we-think-of-that" attitude.

My OB-GYN group did not share this line of thought. They stamped "High Risk--Advanced Maternal Age" in red letters on the outside of my chart. They told me that I had to go to genetic counseling for their legal protection, so that they could document that I understood the risks of continuing the pregnancy. Three times they urged me to have an amniocentesis. Three times I turned it down.

I found all this quite annoying, because:

1. I am a nurse. I knew perfectly well what the risks were.

2. I was quite aware of the increased incidence of Down's Syndrome in older parents.

3. We had already adopted a daughter who had a physical disability. How could I consider NOT continuing the pregnancy? What message would that have sent to her?

4. Anything treatable prenatally would have been found on the ultrasound, not through amniocentesis. The only reason for that procedure would have been if I would consider an abortion.

I knew that the genetic counselor would sketch out a family tree and put every possible negative thing in the squares and circles, so I made my own family tree and put every positive thing in the squares and circles....artistic ability, musical talent, obvious high intelligence, creativity, organizational skills, etc. Although my personal decision wasn't based on logic and probability, by the time I finished my chart, I was convinced the odds were in our favor.

Of course, I never believed this was a roll of the dice. I just thought that might make more sense to people who don't put God in the equation, and make them stop nagging me.

So...what did God send us? Where do I begin?

Our only son.

A sweet toddler who verbalized his love for me in the era when his teenage sisters were sassing me.

A genuinely cute kid with a great sense of humor.

A child who never rocked the boat....from the get-go he behaved as though listening to one's parents was the only reasonable approach to life. Displeasing his parents was, in his mind, counterproductive.

Not once, did he give me grief over taking out the garbage.

His room was NOT a pig sty.

When he visits us now, he goes out of his way to be helpful.

He did, however, make a liar out of my husband. When I told my husband that I was pregnant. The first words out of his mouth were, "Oh....I will be 65 before the kid finishes college!"

Our son took his first college course at the age of 13, finished his Bachelors at the age of 19 and his Masters at the age of 20. Then he went out and found himself a real adult job. My husband was only 63 at that point and didn't mind in the least that he had been proven wrong.

I know that this story could have been different. I know I could now be struggling with what to do about a disabled child as I age. I'd like to think that God would have provided me with the strength to deal with those challenges. Our son...and our other children....have and continue to bring challenges into our lives. So far, God has been faithful in helping us to cope. I have no reason to think He will not continue to do so.

Becoming a parent is always a risk. I don't know any other way to approach this rather frightening proposition than with faith, and today, I am celebrating my choice.

A Vow of Faithfulness

So now we learn that a certain governor who was thought to be hiking, when he was, in fact, in South America with his mistress, did not want "being faithful" included in his wedding vows.

What?! What?!

It was easy for me to first react with, "You've got to be kidding. Why didn't she call off the wedding? What possible reason could he have had other than that he had every intention of being unfaithful?"

But, then I wondered, "At what point did she know this?"

If it was two months before and the invitations had not been sent out, that would be one thing. However, if she found out the night before at the rehearsal, that would be quite another thing. The pressure to forge ahead would be enormous. It is simple for me to think I would have walked away, but in honesty, I don't know what I would have done, if I had found out at the last minute that faithfulness wasn't part of the bargain.

My husband had dated a lot prior to our relationship. At a point where things seemed to be getting serious, but marriage had not yet been discussed, I brought up the topic of faithfulness in marriage. I told him that I had observed that he was fond of women and had a history of enjoying the company of multiple women. I asked him if he thought he would ever be able to settle down with one woman.

He replied in a way I found most interesting. "If I were to marry you, that would be my promise to you that there would never be anyone else. Not because I might not find someone else attractive, but because I would be making a promise, and I wouldn't let anything happen to cause me to break it."

Wow...he didn't say something syrupy like, "You are so wonderful, I would never look at anyone else." That would have been a lie.

He told the truth. "I might find someone else attractive, but I would not break my promise."

I decided there was real security in that response.

I should add that although my husband had dated extensively, neither he nor I believed in or engaged in sex prior to marriage. We both believed that being faithful to our values prior to marriage was an important component of being faithful within marriage.

Women need to ask themselves, "If he would 'cheat' with me before marriage, will he 'cheat' with someone else after marriage?" I recognize that in our culture today, such a notion probably seems totally unrealistic and even hysterically funny to some.

On the other hand, I find it amusing when a second or third wife who had an affair with a man during his marriage to a prior spouse is shocked and upset when he has an affair during their marriage. Why would she be surprised?

Faithfulness was in our vows.

Faithfulness was in our hearts.

Forty two years of experience says it's worth it.

Empty Oppulence

Yesterday we took a boat tour of Sarasota Bay. It was a beautiful sunny afternoon, although a bit on the cool side. We needed sweatshirts. But, we spent the time with wonderful friends that we don't see often enough.
We were fortunate to see dolphins...5 of them. At one point, three were breaking the surface in a unison dance that looked like they had been trained to do it.
The bay is surrounded by exquisite homes. The $3 to 4 million dollar homes are viewed as "tear-downs." Buy one, tear it down and build your upwards of $10 million dollar home on the site. Most of these homes are multiple stories with porches and balconies and pools. Some of the pools have cascading waterfalls. Each time you think you have seen the ultimate in luxury, you come upon another home yet more ostentatiously designed.
We passed hundreds of homes. I saw maintenance people at several sites. In all those homes, I did not see any lights on, any movement within the house, anyone sitting on any of the porches or balconies. I saw one person, and only one, sunning herself and reading next to a pool.
Empty...empty..empty. Furniture is in place, obvious through the large windows, but no one sitting in it.
What a waste! Clearly the owners have other homes...maybe several of them.
Empty, empty, empty...the pursuit of wealth and possessions.
People in this world have no roof over their heads.
People in this world have multiple roofs, so that they can choose which one will be their shelter tonight.
Empty, empty, empty.
I have not one shred of envy.

The Bottom of the Basket

Today I found the bottom of my ironing basket. This is an exceedingly unusual event, occuring only once every 3 to 4 years.
It is not that I use my iron this rarely. In fact, when I am sewing a garment made of a woven fabric, I iron at every step. I have learned that the finished product looks better if pieces are pressed regularly in the process. I also iron clothing that needs a quick touch-up before wearing, and certain items come off the top of the basket more often than annually.
But...the tablecloths just keep getting pushed to the bottom. I am a real slouch and procrastinator when it comes to ironing tablecloths. In most other areas of my life I am a get-it-done type. What am I doing with these tablecloths that need ironing! I have a couple that don't require it, and I use those over and over, while the wrinkly ones settle deeper and deeper under the pile.
Today I ironed one small table cloth and five large ones. A couple of them are so big that even the width folded in half won't fit on the length of the ironing board. This is a colossal pain as I have to keep adjusting the position of the cloth. I also ironed a couple of my husband shirts that have been missing from the poor man's closet for about a year. Sigh.
When my daughters were little, one of them lost an expensive name-brand dress shoe. We turned the house upside down looking for it. Who would have thought to look in the ironing basket? About a year later, after the shoe was outgrown, I discovered it in the bottom of the basket. When I told my mother, she was horrified, and said I should not admit that to anyone. She grew up in a different era. Her mother even ironed my grandfather's handkerchiefs.
Among the tablecloths today, was a lovely Christmas cloth. It wasn't available for use this past Christmas and maybe not the Christmas before that. My new daughter-in-law has probably never seen it.
But...it is now ready for next Christmas, and the ironing basket is briefly and blissfully empty.

Unanswered Questions

Nearly thirty years have passed since that memorable morning when my young daughter sat in the kitchen finishing her breakfast. It was almost time to head for school, but she sat there twirling her fork in a puddle of pancake syrup. My back was turned as I did something at the sink, but I could sense the quiet motion of mental wheels turning as the fork turned in the goo on the plate.
A sigh escaped.
Then the question..."Mom, in this world are there more questions than answers?"
"Yes, dear, I'm afraid there are."
There was no deep theological or philosophical follow-up discussion . What more could be said? She went off to school.
The daughter just celebrated her thirty-sixth birthday, and there are still more questions than answers. But, it was probably that moment more than any other that assured me that she would grow into a person who could cope with what life had to offer her.
We are all faced with unanswered and unanswerable questions. Sometimes we just need to get on with the business of living.

Arrogant Assumption Regarding Agony

I have been slow to pick up on this, but apparently a well-known televangelist has indicated that the earthquake in Haiti is somehow punishment for a deal made with the devil long ago.
Oh, my.
One of the most difficult things for a Christian to explain is the existence of pain and suffering in the world. Comments like his can only muddy the waters and create hurt on top of hurt.
I have done some reading and thinking on the topic of pain and suffering. I especially like "The Problem of Pain" by C. S. Lewis.
Christ Himself makes it clear that the rain falls on the just and the unjust. (See Matthew 5:45) We cannot assume that because something bad happens to a person or group that it is punishment. Nor can we assume (as preachers of the prosperity gospel do) that wealth and health are rewards.
The truth is that anyone who tries to make such correlations is arrogant and putting himself in the place of God. God alone knows the reasons for tragedies and blessings. No human being knows His mind or His purposes.
Consider Job....he was blameless and yet suffered greatly. He had no idea why. His friends were accusatory. His wife told him to curse God and die. He clung to his faith in the face of unbelievable adversity, and it turns out that is exactly what God expected of him.
There may be people in Haiti who made a pact with the devil and are suffering today. But there are also children of God who are suffering. They are crying out and clinging to their faith in a sovereign God. May He in His mercy sustain them.
May He also shut the mouths of those who arrogantly assume they can attach a reason to this agony.

Weighing in on Nature vs Nuture

I came of age intellectually during the era when the prevailing wisdom was that nurture trumped nature in determining a child's developmental outcome.

If you believed some of the writings of the 60s and 70s, there were formulas for parenting. All you had to do was A, B and C, and out the other end would pop a morally sound, self-actualized human being whom you had properly parented.

I bought into this to some degree, not only because it was the prevailing theory, but also, because as a person of faith, I believe in the ability of God to heal in every sense of the word. This includes my belief that He can help a person to overcome genetic traits and personality flaws that are less than desirable. We may struggle with these throughout our life-time, but His grace is sufficient.

Before my husband and I ever had children, we discussed the fact that they did not come with a life-time guarantee and a Good-Housekeeping Seal of Approval. We acknowledged our dependence on God to shape and mold our children, and to give us the necessary strength and wisdom to accomplish the task of parenting.

We have four children: two biological, two adopted, three girls, one boy, one adopted as an infant, one not until the age of eleven. They represent a wide range of challenges and strengths.

I now believe that nurture can only influence within the parameters set by nature. Getting outside of those parameters requires Divine intervention for which the person himself/herself must be open.

I further believe in a sort of "no-fault" parenting. If I don't try to take too much credit for positive outcomes, maybe I don't have to take too much blame for negative outcomes.

And...most importantly...I am still a person of faith. I prayed every day for the wisdom to make correct decisions regarding my children, and the strength to carry out those decisions. I know I didn't do everything perfectly, but having exercised faith on a daily basis means that I cannot now beat myself up over results.

My children as they have become adults, must accept responsibility for their own lives. Each of us must answer to God individually. When we stand before Him, we are not going to get away with blaming our parents or our church or our teachers or our friends for what we have done and failed to do.

And so....I still pray for each of my children and my grandchildren to be responsive to God's voice and sensitive to His leading. The grace of God trumps both nurture and nature.

Lost Child

I know the feeling. The heaviness in the middle of the chest, the emptiness in the pit of the stomach, the swirling confusion in the head that accompanies the realization that you have no idea where your child is, or whether or not she is safe.

I experienced it the day my daughter did not arrive at school. Someone saw her get in a car with a guy at the bus stop. When we called the police, and they found out she was over 16, they said, "Well, then, we have to assume she is where she wants to be."

My husband spent the day driving around looking for the car that was described to us by friends at the bus stop.

A repeat of the feeling occurred the night we discovered her bed empty and her footprints leaving the house in the new-fallen snow.

Then there was the time we knew she was somewhere in town with someone, because she was going to school, but she wasn't coming home at night.

Later still, there was a time she called us from North Carolina.

"What are you doing in North Carolina?"

"I came down here with Chuck," she replied.

"Chuck who?"
She called out, "Chuck, what's your last name?"

I thought I might pass out that time. She was pregnant and we didn't know who the father of the baby was, but it wasn't Chuck.

Now the child she was carrying during that incident has disappeared herself. No one has seen her or heard from her in a week. She isn't answering her cell phone, and no calls have been made on it since December 30th. She hasn't been to school yet since Christmas break is over. She is 18 years old, cute as a button and very, very foolish.

I wouldn't wish the feeling a mother has in this situation on anyone....not even on the daughter who did it to me, and is now experiencing it herself.

Forgetfulness

Twice in the past 3 days, I have found a burner on the stove with nothing on it. Each time my dear husband has recently made himself a cup of tea, apparently removing the tea kettle from the hot burner, but forgetting to turn it off. The second time this occurred, I said, "Sometimes I worry about you!"

"And with good reason," he responded with a wry grin.

This morning I went upstairs for the express purpose of getting a coffee mug I remembered that I had left in the bathroom. Once upstairs, I used the bathroom and came back down without the mug. My husband was sitting in the front hall putting on his boots when I came through sputtering about my forgetfulness.

"Wouldn't it be awful if one of us grew old and the other didn't?" he asked.

Hmmm....that's true, but it is going to be pretty grim if we both get exceedingly forgetful.

I had a great-aunt and uncle who managed to function after he lost his physical strength, because she was still strong. She, however, lost her marbles, and he supplied the brain power for the duo. It was an arrangement that allowed them to manage in their own home right up until the end....they died within 24 hours of each other.

What happens when both members of the partnership become senile?

Sure hope we don't find out....or more accurately that our children don't find out. If we both lose it, we may not even realize it...or maybe we will each think the other one is loony.

So much to look forward to!

Gleaning

In some cultures many years ago, after the owner of a field had gathered in his crop, the poor were allowed to go through his field and pick up anything that remained. The beautiful story of Ruth in the Bible explains how Ruth met Boaz, because she gleaned in his fields gathering food for herself and her mother-in-law.
I was reminded of that story this week on my way to work. Most of my usual route is through farmlands. This time of year, the corn has all been harvested and the stubs of corn stalks poke up through a coating of snow. One such field I passed had hundreds of Canadian geese gleaning the remains of the crop. A few miles later in my trip, I saw a group of about a dozen wild turkeys picking through the leftovers of another cornfield. I have also seen deer in these fields on some mornings.
It made me wonder what will happen to wildlife as the number of small family farms in our country dwindles. The birds and the beasts are the gleaners in our fields.

Why the Post Office is in Trouble

...or at least, in my opinion.
Last week we had lake effect snow in our area, but the band didn't really stall over the top of us, so we only got about a foot total. The first day of the snow, I went out and shoveled the sidewalk perpendicular to the street. A kind neighbor who, I think, knew my husband was out of town, did the sidewalk parallel to the street with his snow-blower.
The second day, I watched the weather and thought, "Well, there's not that much new snow, and I hate to shovel and then have to shovel again after it stops." So, I called the guy who has been doing yard jobs for us recently and left a message for him to come and shovel when it was convenient.
Later that day, I noticed the mailman on the other side of the street. I was sort of watching for him, because I had some letters that needed to go out that day, and of course, this close to Christmas, I was expecting to received some mail.
Currently the houses on either side of us are vacant, and the walks there are not shoveled at all. From my sewing table on the second floor, I saw the mailman go out in the street when he came to the house on the east side of ours and continue past our house and the one on the west side. I ran downstairs and out on the porch. I called to the mailman who was now two houses away, "Did you skip me, because my sidewalk wasn't shoveled?"
"Yes," he called back, and kept walking.
I would have chased him to get my mail, but I didn't have my boots on.
I couldn't believe it. All he had to do was walk up the driveway, the end of which the thoughtful neighbor had snowblown....there was no mound to climb over.
I took a ruler out and measured the depth of the snow on my walk...it ranged between 3 and 6 1/2 inches.....hardly a deterrent to a young adult male in heavy boots.
Now mind you, it was 4 pm and he was probably tired and anxious to finish his route, but I get lots of mail which he, by his choice, had to carry the rest of the route and back again the next day.
I also expect that the houses on either side of us not being shoveled out contributed to what he did, but that isn't my fault. I can't be expected to shovel out two properties I don't own....not at my age anyway. I'm in good shape, but I'm not exactly a teenager anymore.
There's this thing called "work ethic" that seems to be lacking in a huge percentage of the population.
So today, there was a promotional piece in the mail from the US Postal Service saying they would deliver holiday stamps to my door.
#1 It's a little late for that.
#2 They can't even deliver my mail if they don't feel like it.
Sigh.
I don't suppose they are interested in my opinion, but customer service is important.

Texting on Ice

Last weekend when the family had gathered for Thanksgiving, my fourteen year old grandson spent a good part of the weekend texting his friends back home. However, when I took some of the grandkids ice-skating, the phone stayed in his pocket.

Today I took some grandkids ice-skating again, and honest, I saw a teen girl skating around the rink texting. I use the term skating loosely, because you really can't do any serious skating without watching where you are going...especially on a Sunday afternoon when the rink is crowded.

I informed the teen granddaughter who was with me, that if I saw her texting on the ice, I would disown her.

I actually think having such technology is wonderful for people who have something genuinely important going on in their lives. A doctor might be able to spend a few extra minutes with his/her family until receiving the message that a patient is prepped and ready for the OR. A business owner might be able to concentrate on some crucial project until informed that his signature is needed on an outgoing document. But, what goes on in the lives of most teenagers does not even come close to qualifying as "important" in my opinion. It is possible to live a fulfilled life without knowing that your friend has just found the cutest shoes on sale at the mall.

Evidently I am way too old to understand this phenomenon.

Near Miss

Yesterday we woke up to a light coating of snow on the ground. This first appearance of snow resulted in a number of accidents around the area. One in particular was of interest to me.

A woman in a pickup truck pulled out to pass, decided she didn't have adequate room, and lost control of the truck when she tried to return to the driving lane. She hit an on-coming car head-on sending the occupant to the hospital. The accident occurred on the stretch of road I travel on my way to work. Yesterday I did not work.

But...

The day before yesterday on my way to work, a person in a pickup truck pulled out to pass and did not have adequate room. The truck was coming straight at me on a section of the road where there is guardrail, and therefore, not enough room for me to move all the way onto the shoulder. I braked to a near standstill, and the truck returned to its own lane just in time.

I wonder if it was the same driver.

A similar scenario happens to me on this stretch of road two or three times a year. In one area where there is dotted line indicating a safe passing area, there is also a curve limiting visibility. I never pass there having seen near misses on more than one occasion on that spot.

Life is, I think, full of near misses. Some of them we are aware of when they occur. I suspect there are others of which we are blissfully ignorant.

I thank God for His protective hand.

I am Thankful

Leafless branches silhouette against a gray sky on this cool November day. My house is strangely quiet....it is the lull before the storm of people and noise and general chaos. At this point, the only family members who have begun the gathering are my son and his wife...arrivals from California on the red-eye. She is napping, catching up on sleep she missed on the plane. He is out and about town, catching up with friends he has missed while away.

I know I am teetering on the precipice of frenzied activity, so in this quiet moment, I will be thankful.

I am thankful that last night I had a comfortable bed in which to sleep.

I am thankful that I could roll out and take a warm shower.

I am thankful for a car and gas to get to the airport and back.

I am thankful that two refrigerators are stocked with food to feed the family who will be here over the next few days.

I am thankful that my house is big enough to accommodate the family gathering.

I am thankful that I still have enough physical and mental stamina to cope with the expected level of activity.

I am thankful that God is always good. We may have difficult experiences, but He is good.

I am thankful for the gracious hand of God on my life....guiding, protecting, propelling in the direction He chooses.

I am thankful for this breath and the next one.

I am thankful that God's love for us is beyond our ability to understand.

I am thankful.

Who is in Control?

This week I attended a lecture by a physician who is a specialist in a particular type of cancer. A woman in the audience who has this type of cancer commented during the doctor's presentation on clinical trials, that she is part of a clinical trial and was chosen for the control group which receives no treatment. She said that, since she had prayed about this, she was taking it as God's plan. The doctor replied, “Actually you were randomly selected by a computer, so unless you believe God is a big computer.......” and she just let the statement trail off.

Now, I totally understand the concept of random selection by a computer. Part of my job, in fact, is to coordinate a research project on a different type of cancer than the one that was under discussion. When I first enrolled patients in that study, a computer somewhere in the country told me what to do with each person. But the doctor was wrong when she implied that God could not be operating in this situation, because an impartial machine is in control.

True,which arm of the study a person ends up in is dependent on what the computer generates. But, suppose the person who entered this woman's data stopped to have a cup of coffee or use the bathroom or took a phone call, and the data entry was delayed by a minute or two, causing someone elsewhere to enter the data on another patient first. The computer is not in control of that. There is plenty of room for God to operate in our world in ways we never consider.

This brings me to something else I encountered this week, which may, at first, not seem to be related. There is a message floating around on the internet that we should pray for President Obama according to Psalm 109:8 Let his days be few; and let another take his office. It is very distressing to me that anyone who believes in prayer would consider saying such a thing. If this is a joke, it isn't the least bit funny. If the originator is serious, he/she is terribly misusing God's word by taking it out of context.

The apostle Paul, writing in I Timothy, says: I urge, then, first of all, that requests, prayers, intercession and thanksgiving be made for everyone....for kings and all those in authority, that we may live peaceful and quiet lives in all godliness and holiness. This is good, and pleases God our Savior, who wants all men to be saved and to come to a knowledge of the truth.

If we love God and want to honor Him, we need to be praying for President Obama, the Congress and all of the leadership of our country. We don't have to agree with them, and it is perfectly legitimate to state our opposition to policies, but personal attack is wrong. We should never get caught hoping or praying for bad things to befall anyone.

If you don't agree with someone and maybe even dislike them, you can still pray for them in a way that honors God. Here is my prayer: “I pray for President Obama and the Congress. Lord, please use them to accomplish Your purposes in this world and to bring glory to Yourself.”

I think God can and will honor this prayer. I believe that He is in control. It doesn't matter what party is in office or whether the resultant policies are to our liking. I think of the world as an enormous Rubik's cube. Only God has the wisdom and knowledge to solve it and align the pieces to bring about His plan for human history. No matter how it appears to us, He is moving the pieces into position. At some points, it will look like everything is wrong, but that is only a temporary state caused by our imperfect perspective.

When God makes the last move, all mankind will be in awe, and no one will have any choice except to acknowledge that He is in control and has been right along.