Where is My Car?

Today I spent some time wandering around the mall parking lot wondering where on earth I had parked my car.  Part of my problem was a bit of disorientation, because I had come out a different door than I had entered, but that isn’t really my excuse.  I don’t normally get disoriented by these slight changes.

As I wandered around, and after finally finding it, I was pondering all of the things I actually do remember.  How can I remember these things, and not remember where I left my car about 30 minutes ago?

I remember my childhood address and phone number, numerous phone numbers that are currently valid, my social security number, my present address and most fortunately, my name.  Although I was in high school 55 years ago, I still know the beginning of Caesar’s Commentary on the Gallic Wars…in Latin!  I can still tutor a high school student in algebra, geometry and trig.  From the security and zero-pressure area of my living room, I can come up with answers to many, many Jeopardy questions.

But….I don’t know where my car is parked!

Perhaps I was distracted by the fact that I had earlier forgotten my wallet.  I arrived at the first stop on my list of errands, reached into my purse to get the wallet and pay…and….no wallet!  Then I remembered that I had more cash in my wallet than I normally carry, so just before leaving home, I took out my wallet, removed some of the cash, and put it in a safe place.  Apparently putting the wallet back into the purse wasn’t part of the routine.   ARRRRRRRRRRRRRRGH!  I had to drive all the way back home, retrieve the wallet, and start over.

I related my woes to Bill, and he asked me why I didn’t just push the horn button on the key chain.  Well, then everyone would have known I couldn’t find my car!

Jesus Washes Me White as Sand

Come now, let us reason together says the Lord, though your sins are like scarlet, they shall be as white as snow.  Isaiah 1:18

The brilliant whiteness of snow is used to portray purity in the Bible.  Our sins stain us, but the sacrifice of Jesus can cleanse us and make us so clean that no telltale spot of our sin remains.

While playing on the beach recently one of my granddaughters created a bit of art in the sand.  She wrote “Jesus Washes Me White as Sand.”  The beach did have rather white sand, and I would never criticize this fractured bit of scripture.  She has shown an understanding of the important concept behind the verse.  Before any of my children or grandchildren were born, I was already praying for them to grasp the meaning of these words in a very personal way…..in a way that would permeate every corner of their souls and lives.

Each of my children and grandchildren is unique.  Some are beautiful, some are highly intelligent, some are loaded with personality, some have a sunny disposition or an amazing sense of humor, and some have ambition or a specific talent.  I did not pray for any of those things to be true.  Before I ever had children I prayed that my children and their children would grow into people who would be totally committed to God and to His plan for their lives.  It is all I ever asked of Him.  I never felt concerned about having a child who might deviate from the norm, if only this was true of him or her.  I know God has done His part in revealing Himself to them.  It remains for each of them to do their part in allowing Him into their lives.

It remains for each of us as individuals to allow Him into our lives.

When I go to the Ball Park…

..…I love to watch the people.

*I saw a man with loads of tattoos who was wearing a tank top in order to show them off.  The front of the tank top had the message “Tatooed and Employed.”

*Apparently if you get at least 4 beers, you can get a bucket of ice.  I won’t ever know for sure, because I don’t drink even one beer, much less four.  I can’t stand the smell and figure the taste can’t be much better.

*Two generous applications of sunblock make ones arms so slippery that they skid off the chair armrests.

*Some families go to great lengths to include their special needs family members in baseball outings.  I saw two children with Down’s syndrome.  One of them was a toddler and slept in the mother’s arms most of the time.   That little girl had two older sisters.  I wondered if the couple had a third pregnancy hoping for a son.  Instead of a son, they got a special needs daughter.  I wondered how they were coping with this.  Some people who do fine, but others would struggle.

*I also saw a middle-aged man with cerebral palsy and an elderly man who had had a stroke.  Both came in wheelchairs.  I hope the family of the man who had had a stroke had put some sunblock on him before they came, because he had a very fair complexion and it looked to me like the sun was bothering him.  Both of those families ended up leaving early.

*The person who sang the national anthem was a very young girl….I would guess not as old as ten, and she had an amazing voice for a kid. She sang a cappella, and I thought she had pitched the song too high and was never going to make the top notes, but she did.  She did hit a few clunkers and notes she had to slide in to, but she ended in the same key she started in and was pretty impressive.

*The lemonades were huge….probably 32 ounces.  They cost $6 and a refill in the same cup was $3.  I certainly did not expect to need a refill, but we were sitting in the hot Florida sun, and I drained the cup and got a refill.

*In the same category….as a wimpy northern girl who didn’t have a hat along, I purchased a straw hat in the gift shop, and it was worth every penny of the $25.

*The staff at the Hammond Stadium in Fort Myers is extremely congenial.  We didn’t run in to one cranky person.

*We chatted some with a very pleasant young couple from L.A.  She was originally from Minnesota so she was rooting for the Twins.

*There was a guy behind us quoting Donald Trump.  I wanted to turn around and say that I hoped he didn’t believe everything Donald Trump says, but I refrained.

*Two ladies of my vintage were laughing about a woman a few rows ahead of us who stood up and seemed to be adjusting her undies through her dress.  They said she must not know we were all watching her.  I said that I figured she knew and didn’t care….she thought she would never see any of us again anyway.

*In spite of all of these “people watching” observations, I do know that the Minnesota Twins beat the Boston Red Socks 7 to 4 and that this was the last spring training game.  There were some great plays, and also a mess up by the 3^rd base coach who turned a runner back to second believing that a fly ball had been caught….it hadn’t…the ball was caught on a bounce and the runner would have been safe at third. 

*I am not a big baseball fan, but I totally enjoyed myself.

The Spear Hangs Quivering in the Wall

  

             I

Motivated by jealousy or fear,

In a rage, he flung the spear.

The hurled javelin was dodged.

Trembling in the wall it lodged.

So in fear of Saul, the king,

Lest he another missile fling, 

David ran out frightened, shivering,

And the spear hung there quivering.

            II

Motivated by jealousy or fear,

Gossip was flung like a spear.

No thought was given to the hole,

Now gaping in the other’s soul.

Startled by the searing pain,

Dodging it was all in vain.

From the hole, cracks were spread,

Falsehoods were fueled and fed.

            III

Who took Saul’s spear from the wall?

Retrieved and gave it back?

Patched up the gaping hole?

Smoothed out and filled the crack?

Who can undo gossip’s harm?

Remove the stain and scar?

Pour healing balm into the wound,

From love’s redemptive jar?

Look around you…have you seen it?

Heard it whistling past?

Have you done your best to stop it,

The spear that has been cast?

Does it still hang there before you?

A wound in someone’s soul?

Pull out the spear, stop the bleeding,

Patch up and fill the hole.

I Will Celebrate

I love Christmas.

I love the fact that God sent His Son into the world,

That the eternally existent one, stepped into time.

I love the stories of His life,

His great compassion on those in need,

His tenderness with the hurting.

I love His discernment.

He knew their hearts, saw behind their words,

Pierced their thoughts and judged rightly.

I do not love Good Friday.

I know I must remember His sacrifice, but I grieve.

He had to die for my sins.  He had none of His own.

I love Easter morning.

I could not conquer death.  He did it for me.

Because He lives, the pain of sin and death is gone.

I love Him.

I look forward to seeing Him, thanking Him in person,

And celebrating His coming, His Life, His death, His resurrection.

I will celebrate Him eternally.

Growing older is tricky.

Bill and I have been hard workers throughout our lives and more generous than most with our resources.  So, why do I feel self-indulgent spending a month in Florida and walking on the beach daily in my “retirement”….which isn’t even total retirement?

I love being here and being near one of my daughters and her family.  I have not been unproductive here.  I have made drapes for their new house, recovered a chair for one of the girls’ bedrooms, had them over for dinner, worked on the short stories I have been writing, colored eggs with the granddaughters, made peanut butter eggs with them, shown them how to do a craft with beads, helped with their costumes for “Night at the Museum” and dabbled in miscellaneous other things.

But, I have been here three weeks and I am starting to feel like I have withdrawn from my “normal” life and abdicated from some of my usual responsibilities.  I have toyed with the idea of spending more than a month here, but I’m beginning to wonder how I would handle that.  I apparently do not have the correct mental attitude to be a “snow bird.”

Over the years, I have observed people in retirement years seemingly enjoying being less active and less connected in their lifelong community and establishing a peripheral presence in both that community and one in a more favorable climate.  I must not be suited to peripheral involvement.  When I go to church here and learn of a need, I think to myself, “I could help with that!  Oh, wait a minute, I’m only here for 2 more weeks!”

Of course, there is also the issue that I have had a sense recently from some younger people, that I am “old” and my ideas dated and not worth considering.  Not that anyone has said that in so many words, but a couple of months ago, I made an attempt at a give and take conversation with a younger person and felt like everything I said was dismissed.   Come on!  I’m in my seventies, but my hair isn’t even gray yet!  My brain has not withered up inside my skull.

So, what am I looking at down the road?  Will I be able to remain active and involved and have the blessing of dropping dead in my tracks?  I really don’t want to sit in a rocker in the nursing home lounge staring out the window.  Can I content myself with something in the middle…such as reading writing, and daily walks on the beach?

This growing older thing is tricky!

Pelican

A bird not beautiful,

No flashy colors,

Ungainly appearance.

Waddling along.

But earth is not its element.

It belongs in the sky,

Skimming above the water

Aerodynamically configured.

Who taught it to tuck its head,

Spreading its wings,

Drafting on its mates

Inches above the waves?

We may be awkward

In this world.  Ungainly.

Inarticulate

Plodding along.

But the world is not our element.

We were meant for a better place.

There we will spread our wings,

And be totally fulfilled.

Perfected, we will bow our heads,

Soar with those of like spirit,

Come face to face

With our Creator and Redeemer.