Worthy of Her Notice

For weeks I have been walking by her, frequently greeting her.  She has shown no signs of even acknowledging my presence.  Today she became a pest!

When we sold our house and moved into an apartment near downtown, I established the habit of swimming in the Family Y lap pool three or four times a week.  Walking to the Y avoids the problem of finding a parking space.  It is only about a block away, if I cut through the city parking lot which is behind our complex and then through the historical society property.  A very pleasant walkway lies along the north side of the historical society building with an adjacent garden, interesting trees, and park benches.  In addition to the main museum, there are a number of out buildings.  One of these is marked “Private Residence.”  I am sure one or more humans live there, but it clearly belongs to a gray and white cat.  Perhaps the whole historical museum property belongs to her and even the nearby bank parking lot.

Often when I pass, kitty is lounging on the porch.  Whether or not she is asleep, she never acknowledges me, even if I say “Hello.”  Sometimes she is sleeping in the middle of the black-topped walkway having found a warm sunny spot.   She never moves, so she forces me to walk around her.

This morning as I passed, she was off the porch sharpening her claws on a rock.  I did not take that as a good omen.  But, she trotted after me, and then began weaving back and forth in front of me.  I altered my course repeatedly to avoid tripping over her.  I finally spoke to her and scratched her behind the ears.  Only then did she stroll off and stop entangling herself in my feet.

The queen has deigned to recognize me walking through her kingdom.

The Miracle of Life

Still in wonder here I stand,

Awestruck by your mighty hand,

Working with such craft and art,

True expression of your heart.

Intricate is your design,

Beauty I cannot define,

Each part meshing with the whole,

Linking mind, body, soul.

The miracle of conscious thought,

Of every fleeting moment caught,

We take for granted and assume,

Randomness some will presume.

The master potter molds the clay,

His very image to portray,

And someday every knee will bow.

As for me, I do it now.

I’m grateful that you formed me, made me,

Cared for me, redeemed and saved me.

Fashioned me and gave me breath,

Shelter me from birth to death.

The F Word

Today as I walked along the sidewalk, I came up behind a woman whose back was turned to me.  She had stopped and was looking at something down the street….I don’t know what.  She was so focused on whatever, that she did not hear or see me.  Just as I reached her, she uttered, “What the F*#@.”  Then realizing that I was passing her she said, “Whoops” and then “I’m sorry.”  I kept walking and did not stop to say anything to her. 

This four-letter F word is unbelievably common.  In movies I have seen recently, it seems to be part of every sentence.  I have overheard conversations in which the same seems to be true.  Toddlers use the word having no clue as to its meaning.

It is used so indiscriminately, that I wonder if it actually has a meaning anymore.

A few years back, I was at the skating rink and a woman had the 4 letters imprinted on her pants right over her buttocks.  This put them at eye-level of small children skating.  I did say something on that occasion.  A relative of the woman became furious with me.  She said the woman was from Europe and that it wasn’t a bad word; it was the name of a clothing company in Europe.  “Ah yes” I said. “And the clothing company was started by Franz, Charles, Ulrich and Karl and the marketing department has no idea that those letters have meaning.”

The F word is used to express hatred and contempt toward others, but also sprinkled in conversation to give emphasis or to make one seem tough or worldly.  Sometimes the word is not spoken, but a finger is raised to represent the word.

The terribly sad truth is that it is a horrific perversion of what God intended to be meaningful.  Sexual intimacy is not meant to be an animalistic act infused with hatred and violence.  God intended it for both procreation and pleasure for both man and woman.  It is supposed to be an experience that is physical, emotional AND spiritual.  He intended it to be symbolic of the ecstasy that we feel when we are united with Him.  That meaning is a mystery to us...something the human mind cannot quite grasp.  The devil himself wants to make it ugly.  If he cannot make it ugly, he wants to trivialize it and remove any meaning.

Every time it is used, something sacred is dragged through the mud and soiled beyond recognition.  This breaks my heart. 

Surrounded by Water

His breath parted the waters,

They crossed between its walls,

Their pursuers stuck in the mire,

Were swallowed up.

But first, Moses stretched out his arm.

His breath piled up the waters,

Sending them into a heap,

No matter that it was flood stage.

They crossed on dry ground.

But first, the priests stepped in.

Wind and waves buffeted the boat.

A frightening image appeared.

A man walking on the water beckoned.

Peter walked on the water to him.

But first, he got out of the boat.

The waters raged about the boat.

He slept as they worried.

He spoke and the wind obeyed,

The waves were stilled.

But first, they admitted their fears.

Help me to confess my fears,

Get out of my boat,

Step into the flood,

Stretch my hand to the task,

In obedience to you.

I Saw a Unicorn

On a recent trip to the mall, I saw a unicorn…or at least, someone who fancies herself a unicorn.

She wore a black dress which was too small and too short for her oversized dimensions.  I first noticed her, however, because of her footwear…silver platform boots.  She was clomping along on the super-thick soles of shiny silver boots which went almost to her knees.  As my eyes drifted upward taking this all in, I came to the black lipstick and then to…wonder of wonders…a head piece featuring a single black horn.

I chuckled to myself that she must have intended to go to Walmart and took the wrong turn and ended up in the mall.

Following her was a very round child of indeterminate gender dressed totally in black, but with no visible horn in the midst of a bizarre haircut.  Even so, I guessed the child was the unicorn’s offspring.

My amusement faded into a still lingering sadness.

Our society says we must accept others as they are, and that includes all manner of “self-expression.”  We are expected to walk past a “unicorn” without reacting with laughter, derision or pity, even if Halloween is still months away. 

However, as I see it, this woman is actually screaming for attention.  She wants to be noticed.  I seriously doubt that she dresses this way at home on a regular basis.  It would be pretty difficult to do housework in those platform boots on which she was precariously perched.  No…she dressed up to go into public.  She wanted people to think, “Well, there is someone who is not troubled by convention, and has the guts to express herself.”

I am sad for what she is doing to herself and her child.  Dressing appropriately for a situation says something about our respect for others and our respect for ourselves.  While I would hope she wouldn’t go to a job interview dressed in this manner, what if she passes someone in the mall with whom she has a job interview later this week?  As a potential employer, I would be afraid she had a screw loose and wouldn’t risk hiring her.  What kind of example is she setting for her child?  Is she setting her child up for bullying?  Or, will her child eventually be embarrassed by the mother and lose all respect?

Accepting others as they are is one thing.  Ignoring bizarre behavior is another.  How have we come to this place in our society, that there are no standards of conduct?  We look the other way no matter what others do or say.  Does this woman have no spouse or no friend who can encourage her in the right direction?  If I go up to her as a complete stranger and say, “Oh, honey, you really shouldn’t be walking around like this,” she will have no reason to think I genuinely care about her and that my opinions are valid.  It will just reinforce her desire to “follow her own path.”

So, since I don’t know her, I can say nothing, do nothing.  I can only feel sad for her and her child and pray that someone close to her will have the courage to help her.  She is screaming for help without knowing it.

Who's to Blame?

Most Americans are justifiably horrified by the recent mass shootings and know something must be done to stop this terrible trend.  In order to stop something, we look for a cause.  Since we are a varied society, we come up with varying ideas as to how to solve the problem.  The difficulty is that there seem to be multiple factors, and different voices among us are, therefore, calling for different actions.

Some blame it on the availability of guns, while others believe that being able to carry a weapon is actually a deterrent.  I know of people who “conceal carry” to church.  Personally, I believe in Second Amendment rights, but I don’t think that should include anyone being able to purchase an automatic weapon that can eject large volumes of ammunition in rapid succession.  We need to limit large volume magazines and the types of rifles that are typically used in mass shootings.  We need a change in our gun laws without taking away the individual’s right to own a gun for hunting and personal protection.

Some blame mental health issues.  It is true that many people who need mental health care have difficulty accessing it.  Parents, who are aware that their child is struggling with mental health issues, may find themselves struggling to find adequate care for their child.  For decades now, there has been a move to deinstitutionalize people with mental health problems.  They have been integrated into society, instead of being placed in confined situations.  Some of these people cannot function adequately in society.  Some are homeless.  Some are as isolated IN society, as they once were isolated FROM society.  Our mental health system needs to be improved.

Others point to violent video games and other media.  Young people don’t draw as defined a line between reality and fantasy as adults do.  Sure, my generation saw violence in cartoons, but they were clearly goofy cartoon characters.  The Road Runner and Wily Coyote did not look like the people we lived with and among.  Now, graphics in the media are extremely realistic.  Television and movies are filled with violence.  But seeing a bloodied corpse on the screen is not as upsetting as seeing one lying at one’s feet.  We become immune to the gore which should be making us sick.  There should be additional limitations on what can be shown through the media.

The media and 24/7 news are also part of the problem.  A shooter knows he will gain instant recognition.  For some sick minds, that is a reward.  A famous anchor will go to the site of his carnage, and although he/she will say they are focusing on the victims, the shooter knows he, although he may be dead, will have power over this situation.  His picture will be shown.  His manifesto will be read.  Sadly, there will be those who follow his lead.  I have no idea how we put this genie back in the bottle!

Being incited to violence by the rhetoric of our politicians is currently a favorite whipping boy.  In the two most recent mass shootings, one shooter had expressed white nationalist, ultra-right views.  But, the other called himself a Democrat and a leftist.  Both parties need to become more circumspect in what they say and recognize that what to them are just words, may become actions to those who listen to them.  Neither side is guiltless.

Now let’s get to the REAL problem.  Our nation has lost its collective soul!

Our youth do not feel valued.  They know we can abort them.  Too many experience abuse and neglect. Well-meaning parents are afraid to discipline, lest child protective service comes to their door.  Children are ignored by parents who are both working to maintain a certain lifestyle, and who are glued to their smart phones when they are home.  Children are not given jobs in the home that make them feel like they are contributing to the family.  Parents leave the teaching of values to the school system, which can no longer incorporate anything “religious” into the school day.  Parents divorce and the kids are pawns in the battles between them. Single mothers struggle to play both parental roles.  Families no longer eat dinner together and talk about their day.  Gender identity issues are no longer considered mental health problems.  Anything goes.

The book of Judges in the Bible describes the chaos and evil of a society when “everyone did as he saw fit.”  We are in that situation.  We are told to be tolerant of other viewpoints, but we have carried that to an extreme in which we believe it is acceptable for everyone to come up with his/her own moral code.

Hey, folks!  This isn’t going to work!

I know that there are those who believe that if we all work together and if we educate young people to be tolerant of others and deal properly with their own feelings, this problem will diminish or even disappear when coupled with some appropriate changes in laws. Having been both a nurse and a teacher, I have observed that hard work and education do NOT solve a problem which comes from the heart and soul.  Nor can morality be legislated.

We are in a terrible downward spiral.  It won’t matter much whether 2020 brings a Democrat into power or whether Trump gets four more years.  We are looking at the fall of America, unless we rediscover our soul.  We once had collective values.  When I was growing up, even those who did not attend church, who were not “religious,” followed the Judeo-Christian ethic.  That ethic would be tolerant of other religious views or no religious views, but it would not incorporate them.  To be biblical, there is a difference between “caring for the aliens among us” and “bowing down to Baal.”

In Ezra 9, Ezra acknowledges the sin of his people.  Extracting the portions of his prayer that seem relevant today:

O, my God, I am too ashamed and disgraced to lift up my face to you, my God, because our sins are higher than our heads and our guilt has reached to the heavens…..But now, O our God, what can we say after this?  For we have disregarded the commands you gave through your servants the prophets. …What has happened to us is a result of our evil deeds and our great guilt, and yet, our God, you have punished us less than our sins have deserved….O Lord, you are righteous!...Here we are before you in our guilt, though because of it not one of us can stand in your presence.”

We cannot tolerate everything in our society.  We are decayed on the inside, and it is reaching the surface and exploding outward in hatred and violence.

Our nation needs a spiritual reawakening.  We need to plead for forgiveness and turn from the evil we have been embracing.

God’s love demands His mercy, but His righteousness demands His judgment. 

Someday the Lion will roar, and that day may soon be upon us.

Raspberry Reverie

The raspberry bushes in the backyard are currently producing enough that I have had two pickings which were not quite enough for a pie and which I used on ice cream and cereal, and one picking that was enough for a pie which I am now enjoying.  There are more coming too.

So here are some raspberry memories….

In the mid 70s we moved into a neighborhood of old Victorian homes.  The new neighbor across the street was reorganizing her yard and dug up a small clump of raspberries which she gave to me.  I planted them along a narrow strip of sidewalk which ran next to the carriage house.  Raspberries propagate by send up shoots from their roots.  Every year before my husband mowed the lawn for the first time, I would dig up the shoots which had popped up in the lawn and plant them back along that narrow sidewalk.  After decades of living there, I had a raspberry patch about 3 feet wide and 15 feet long.

The summer after our son was born, I would put him in the umbrella stroller when I went to work in the garden behind the carriage house.  As we passed the raspberries, I would pick one big juicy berry and put it in his little 8-month old mouth.  When he was about 8 years old, and he and his friends ate most of the berries while playing on the nearby swing-set, I figured it was my own fault, and I couldn’t scold him.  I had taught him the enjoyment of a raspberry….or two or twenty…right off the bush.  There were years when only a literal handful made it into the house.

Yesterday we attended the calling hours for an elderly woman who passed away last weekend.  In the receiving line we met a pretty young woman in her 30s who was a granddaughter of the deceased lady.  We would not have recognized her, but when she was a child, she had lived in the house next to us for a time.  The first thing she said to us was “OH!  I used to eat your raspberries!”  I think she felt guilty about it, but there was no need.  We knew the neighborhood children enjoyed the raspberries!  She also mentioned ice-skating on the rink my husband used to create in the backyard.  I am always pleased when I hear that a young adult has pleasant memories from childhood of being in our home. 

When we moved to our present home 9 years ago, I moved some of the raspberries.  Here I must try to keep the deer from eating them.  Children I don’t mind, but those deer are a pain!  I have covered the bushes with netting, but that makes it difficult for me to pick the berries.

We are moving into a small apartment in two weeks, and this time I can’t take the raspberries along.  The new owners of our home have a little boy and another on the way.  I hope they enjoy the raspberries!