How many old ladies still have their favorite stuffed animal?

I wonder how many old ladies still have their favorite stuffed animal from their toddler years.  I still have my Scotty dog….he is an awful old mess, but I still have him.

When he was new, he was fuzzy and white.  Because he was a Scotty, he wore a plaid tam on his head.  I don’t remember if his collar was plaid or solid red.  Best of all, he had a music box that played “Oh, where, oh, where, has my little dog gone?” 

I had other stuffed animals, but Scotty was my favorite.  He was hugged and loved throughout my childhood.  After suffering that abuse, he held the place of honor on my bed each day throughout my teen years.  Eventually, the metal edge of his music box wore a hole in his side.  Since the music box no longer worked, I decided to take it out.  I carefully made the slit large enough to remove the box, stuffed the hole with cotton and sewed him back up.

Scotty went off to nursing school and college with me and always sat on my bed during the day.  I actually think I slept with him until I got married.  Our first bed had a bookcase headboard, and he sat there for years.

For some reason, I thought about him when I woke up this morning.  Where did I put him?  As soon as I rolled out, I went looking and remembered he was now on the bed in the guest room.

So here he is…..70 years old, no fuzz left, scarred from his music box surgery, hat long gone, but he still has both of his red button eyes.  

I’m chuckling over the thought of taking him with me to the nursing home someday.

My Favorite Holiday

One evening this past week, I was feeling lazy and uninspired at supper time, so my husband suggested we go to the sub shop in the neighborhood.  We had just settled into a booth with our subs, when a young couple passed on the way to their table.  I heard only a snatch of conversation which went something like this:

Guy:  My favorite holiday is Halloween.

Girl:  I like Christmas.

Guy:  Christmas sucks.  I like Halloween and you have to go along with me on that, because it’s my favorite.

I had a pang of sadness.  It didn’t spoil my appetite for the sub, but it did make me sad for a couple of reasons.

One….it sounded like she was supposed to participate in his excitement over Halloween, but he might not reciprocate at Christmas.

Two…he clearly doesn’t understand the significance of Christmas.  I guess the commercialization of Christmas “sucks.”  Maybe Santa was never good to him, and he never got what he wanted for Christmas as a kid.  Maybe he doesn’t like all the twinkling lights and good cheer, or maybe he’s been trampled in Walmart.

I, on the other hand, love Christmas and everything about it.  The idea that the eternal God stepped into time with a plan to redeem me is beyond my understanding.  I delight in every possible way to celebrate that.  I enjoy the decorations and the special foods.  I absolutely love buying gifts for my family.  I put a lot of time and effort into picking things I think they will enjoy.  If they want money, that’s OK.  I still give them homemade cookies too.  I eagerly anticipate getting cards…especially those with letters catching me up on the lives of friends I don’t see often.

AND

I love the music.  I am sad that I can’t sing anymore.  For decades one of my main joys at Christmas was to go caroling.  If there was no group going, I coerced a few family members and friends into going with me to sing to someone.  My heart was singing…..Oh, let’s be joyful and express it.  Jesus came!

Now as to Halloween, I know there are Christians who think it is evil and pagan and no Christian should celebrate it.  I have no problem with kids dressing up and having an excuse to get candy.  I still enjoy carving a pumpkin.

But, I am so sad for anyone whose heart isn’t just filled to overflowing at Christmas.  I don’t even mind the crowds in stores and all the hustle and bustle.  All I care about is that Jesus came.  If the angels were excited and joyful, I can be too.

No bah humbugs here.

Is There a Reason for Being?

I don’t typically read the column in Parade magazine written by Marilyn vos Savant.  I confess to feeling a bit put off by claims that she has the highest IQ ever recorded, or that, at least at one time, she did.  I don’t think knowing ones IQ is particularly helpful, or that IQ is a good measure of success in life.

In any event, I happened to read her column on May 29, 2016.  A man who made a point of being a Mensa member said that he and other members had been debating a certain question for years. 

“What is the reason we are here?”

I did like her response in this case.  She pointed out that whether there is a reason for ones existence is dependent on ones spiritual beliefs. 

“If you don’t believe in a god, the question contradicts your thinking.  Having a reason implies having a purpose, which indicates an intelligent being (or cognitive power), with intent.  That’s what people call a god.  So if you don’t believe a god exists, you can’t believe a reason exists.  You must settle for assuming we got here through some natural process, and that’s that.”

In other words, you are a purposeless accident.  Perhaps, you are a happy accident, but none-the-less, an accident.

It seems to me that anyone who is smart enough for Mensa should have figured this out himself/herself.  If this was a group discussion, it seems someone in the group should have happened on this viewpoint without writing to a “savant.”  I suspect that many intelligent people actually do know this, but don’t want to accept it. 

Answering this question has little to do with intelligence.  We would all like to believe that there is a reason for our existence.  If we don’t believe it, suicide seems to be an attractive option.  I remember struggling with this as a teenager and deciding that I could only find a purpose for being through my faith…..not through my intellect.

 But for many, faith is not an attractive option.  If there is a god, he might expect something of me.  He might have some claim on my life.  His reason for my existence might not line up with my plans, and I do want to have my own way.

I am convinced that most atheists don’t arrive at that belief by rational, logical decision.  They arrive at that point because the possibility of a god doesn’t line up well with their desire for self-determination.  Since the existence of a god cannot be proven or disproven logically, something else comes into play in determining whether or not one believes.  I think that something is our own desire to be in charge.

Personally, I have no desire to be in charge of my life.  I cannot know the future.  I cannot see where my decisions will lead me.  I would much prefer to trust my life to an all-knowing God.  He has a reason for my being here and knows how I fit into His plan.

To quote King Solomon, one of the most intelligent and wisest of men, whose IQ isn’t recorded for us:

Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways acknowledge him, and he will make your paths straight.  Do not be wise in your own eyes; fear the Lord and shun evil.  Proverb 3: 5-7

Entangled

Stirring in the night,

Our arms and legs entwined.

My leg between yours.

Yours over mine.

Entangled.

Thinking the others thoughts,

You say what I am thinking.

You laugh as I begin to speak,

Knowing what I will say.

Entangled.

You haven’t done the taxes,

I am upset and threaten,

“I will file on my own.”

The accountant says, “Not possible.”

Entangled.

Strange to see in our children,

Strands of our DNA combined,

Each looks and acts like you.

Each looks and acts like me.

Entangled.

What if one of the threads,

In the tapestry dies.

Loses the ability to interact,

Withers away or disengages?

Untangled.

What if the warp and woof,

No longer cross over.

Will the fabric fall apart?

Will one of us be left in strings?

Entangled with memories.

Home Alone!

The first time we left our kids alone to “babysit” themselves, they were about eleven, twelve and thirteen.  Nate was not born yet, so I’m talking about Janelle, Laura and Michelle.  I don’t remember where Bill and I went, but we decided the girls were old enough to manage a couple of hours without getting into too much trouble.  Hmmm……

We arrived home and everything seemed to be OK on the first floor of the house, although the girls did seem to be especially gleeful.  On going upstairs, we discovered that the hallway had been turned into a tangled spider web of yarn strung between door knobs and light fixtures.  

When we went into our room and flipped on the light switch music began blaring.  They had plugged a tape recorder with the volume turned way up into the outlet which normally had a lamp plugged into it.   I kept my cool through all of this.  The monkey business had kept them busy all evening, so they hadn’t gotten into any serious trouble.

When I went into the bathroom, I noticed that the fuzzy cover from the toilet seat was on the floor in the corner and was obviously wet.  “What happened here?” I inquired.

It seems the girls had decided that if they put up the lid over the toilet, and placed the fuzzy cover on the seat instead of the lid, I would come in and not realize this, and when I went to sit down, I would fall butt first into the toilet.  The problem was that after they set this all up, they decided that it would work best if the room was dark, so they needed to unscrew the light bulbs over the sink.  They couldn’t reach the bulbs, so Laura without thinking about what they had just done, decided to stand on the toilet seat....and fell in feet first.

I totally lost it at this point.  The mental picture of her falling in was more than I could handle, and I burst out laughing.  So much for maintaining any serious ability to tell them not to pull such a stunt again.

Later trying to crawl into bed and finding that they had “short-sheeted” it was pretty anti-climactic.  I just started laughing all over again about Laura finding herself standing in the toilet. 

I am actually smiling right now as I think about it three decades later.

Surreal Hallelujah Chorus

Last evening the sermon at our church included a reference to the Hallelujah Chorus, and the fact that it is traditional to stand when it is performed.  I never hear a reference made or stand during the performance of this inspiring piece without my mind going back to the one time, I did NOT stand.

Decades ago, a church in our community was hosting a college choir.  They were in need of overnight housing for the members of the choir, so I offered our home, even though we were not regular attenders at that church.

I was enjoying the concert which was coming to an end, when a man who knew me well tapped me on the shoulder and said, “Something is wrong with my mother.”

I turned around and about two rows behind me sat an elderly woman whose skin was ashen, her lips blue, and her forehead covered with drops of perspiration.  She was slumped in the seat.  She clearly was not breathing.

I jumped up and hurried to her.  I could immediately see that her dentures were covering her airway.  I dug them out of her mouth and handed them to someone….I don’t remember who.  People quickly moved to the side, and we swung her legs up and laid her out flat on the church pew.  I knelt on the floor, pulled her jaw forward, and began mouth-to-mouth resuscitation.  At some point in this process, the choir began to sing and the congregation stood.

There I was kneeling on the floor giving mouth-to-mouth during the Hallelujah Chorus.  My mind was trying to wrap itself around this surreal situation.

It did not take long for her to begin breathing on her own.  Someone had run out and called an ambulance.  I suppose the Hallelujah Chorus was planned as the finale, but the choir continued singing until the EMTs had removed her from the scene, and she was on her way to the hospital.

I later learned that she had run out of her heart medication and had not told her son.  She apparently experienced an episode of heartbeat that was sufficiently irregular that she lost consciousness.  When she did, her jaw relaxed and her dentures fell over her airway.  I have seen this same phenomenon on another occasion in a church situation and resuscitated that woman also.  But…that time, the Hallelujah Chorus was not being sung.

Pilate's Question

Jesus answered…..”I came into the world to testify to the truth.  Everyone on the side of truth listens to me.” 

“What is truth?” Pilate asked.  John 18:37-38

 What is truth?  Today while I was out walking, I was thinking about how relevant this question is 2000 years after Pilate asked it.  How does one tease the grain of truth out of the heap of lies with which we are confronted?  A confusing mix of fact and fiction assaults us on every possible level from international to personal.  A plethora of information is available to us and anyone can create and distribute it.  My son once told me with a smirk, “57% of statistics are made up on the spot.”

Flossing is an essential part of dental health…or….nope, we have discovered it doesn’t make a substantial difference.

Aluminum in deodorant causes cancer…oh, good grief, no it doesn’t.

Hillary’s use of an unsecured server has put our national secrets at risk and contributed to the execution of an Iranian nuclear scientist.  No…this is false.  She did nothing wrong.

Donald Trump….huh….where to begin?  He contradicts himself so often that no one can possibly tell which of his statements are true and which are false.

Someone on Facebook acts depressed and lots of “friends” immediately say, “Oh, don’t be sad.  You are a beautiful person inside and out.”  Even though it is quite possible that neither is true.

Justice Scalia was actually murdered at that ranch in Texas.  What?!  Do you believe those conspiracy theories?

Someone close to me makes a promise I know he/she won’t keep or tells me a whopper they think I will believe.

Someone explains or excuses some behavior, and I know they are lying to themselves.

What is truth?  Is it based in my reality or in someone else’s? 

Jesus was saying that He is the standard for truth.  I try to judge truth by what I read in the Bible, and I pray for discernment.  That is the only way I know of to “listen to Him.”  Sometimes, however, I do wish I could audibly hear Him.  “Whether you turn to the right or to the left, your ears will hear a voice behind you saying, ‘This is the way, walk in it.’” Isaiah 30:21.  That, however, in context seems to be a promise for a future day.

So you and I are left in this confusing and imperfect world struggling each day to conduct our lives in keeping with the light we are given.

Send forth your light and your truth, let them guide me.  Psalm 43:3