Truth vs Lies

I am not in favor of lying…. not ever…not for any reason.  I am not sure if I could lie to save my life, or even the life of someone I loved.

Ironically, I was once accused of lying by the same person(s) who accused me of being too truthful…of telling the truth when I didn’t need to do so.  It is a compulsion I have.  I sometimes go into more detail than necessary, in an effort to be perfectly clear and to make sure a situation is not misrepresented.

I know President Trump “lies” and I know the press “lies.”  That is, they both misrepresent the truth.  They are both so accustomed to lying that the don’t know how to be totally truthful.

I think Trump’s condition may be pathological.  He has his own version of reality, and it is so altered from the reality of most of the world that he doesn’t even recognize he is in an alternate universe.  I am sick of hearing about every one of his lies in the media.  If I protest to this nitpicking on Facebook, I get accused of defending him.  I think his critics should stop picking at every little thing.  That just weakens their arguments and makes them look like whiners.  They should just wait until they can catch him in something huge and impeachable. 

But, who is going to monitor the media?

The media always has an agenda and makes the facts fit it.  Over the years, I have been involved in public meetings where the media was present.  I was there.  I knew what happened.  But, it was hardly recognizable when I read about it in the paper the next day.  The reporter would not report on the meeting as a whole or even the most important elements.  He/She would pick an obscure but controversial part of the meeting and blow it up into the whole article.  Technically the reporter was telling “the truth,” but he/she was totally misrepresenting the situation.  That is not honesty.  That is having an agenda and squeezing the facts into it.  It might be called “fake news,” although perhaps not by Trump’s definition of “fake news.”  In any event, I am cautious about believing what I read or hear on the news.

When Christ was being questioned by Pilate, he said, “…I came into the world, to testify to the truth.  Everyone on the side of truth listens to me.”

Pilate replied, “What is truth?”

And that is a very good question appropriate for today.  Truth is very hard to find…that is, TRUE TRUTH.  How does one discover actual facts, that have not been bent or distorted or placed in an altered context?  Pilate didn’t know and neither do I.

But

I do know that Jesus and a relationship with him are still the answer to life’s huge questions.  I cling to the promise that someday the crooked will be made straight.

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 4:13

Thankless Tasks

I could live my life quite happily without ever folding the laundry.  I also know I would be unhappy if there were piles of clean, but unfolded laundry strewn about the house or heaped up on the bed.  I have been in homes where that is clearly what happens.

As I folded laundry today, I thought that I can understand women who avoid the task, but I also cannot understand women who avoid the task.  (I say women, because, let’s be honest….not a lot of men do laundry.)  Folding the laundry is not inspiring.  It is not creative.  No one has ever thanked me for doing it.  And, the job is never finished.  The laundry basket or hamper which is empty this afternoon will by nightfall have the day’s dirty clothes in it, and the cycle begins again.

There are a lot of thankless tasks in housekeeping.  Cleaning the bathroom isn’t fun.  Dusting isn’t fun.  Picking up toys isn’t fun, and neither is trying to teach the kids to do it themselves.  Changing the bed linens is a monotonous routine.  It may be fun to cook a lovely meal…that can be creative, and one might even get compliments…but cleaning up the resulting dishes is a downer.

So why do any of this?  I have heard it said that it is much more important to spend time with your children….that they will never remember whether or not your house is clean.  I don’t agree with this.  I think kids do remember whether or not they grew up in chaos.  Could they find a matching pair of socks?  Was the shirt they wanted to wear a wrinkled mess in the middle of the heap?  Were there so many dirty dishes stacked in the sink that they couldn’t get at the faucet for a drink of water?  Were they embarrassed because I friend came to see them and there wasn’t a chair available to sit on?  I have been in a home where something was stacked on every chair except for a folding chair at a card table.  I’m pretty sure kids remember these things, or that the disorder is even built into their personalities.

I spent a lot of time with my children.  I enjoyed playing games with them, reading to them, going for walks or bike rides, taking them to playgrounds, teaching them to bake…and…I did teach them to fold the laundry.  I don’t go around inspecting, so I suppose they may have decided it is just too much trouble, but so are lots of other things in life that are worth doing.

Somewhere there is a balance between work and play.  “All work and no play make Jack a dull boy.”  I’m afraid that all play and no work make Jack a slob, and it is probably a sign of depression.

So…if you’re reading this instead of folding the laundry….

Cuke-a-Melons

The fact that the local cucumber crop is coming in has reminded me of one of my misbegotten gardening attempts.  I always started the squash, cucumbers and pumpkins in pots inside around mid-April.  Our growing season isn’t really long enough for watermelon, but one year I hoped that by starting watermelon inside too, I might get a few.

I transplanted the small vines outside around Memorial Day and was delighted to see the watermelon progressing much faster than I had even hoped.  Sometime in early August, one of the watermelon looked ripe.  I picked it and took it into the kitchen.  When I cut into it, I was surprised to find that it was not at all pink.  Inside, it was white and tasted like a cucumber.  A week or so later, I picked another watermelon.  This time I discovered that there were circular areas of pink surrounding the seeds.  It looked like a pink polka-dotted cucumber inside.  A few days later, I picked a third watermelon.  This one had wedges of pink.  Thereafter, everything I picked was totally pink, although a bit pale, but did actually taste like watermelon.

I concluded that I had planted the watermelon and cucumbers too close together, and they must have cross-pollinated.  Those that were genetically more cucumber must have ripened first, while the more “watermelony” ones ripened later.  At least that is my theory…unproven scientifically….but I like it.

And the cucumbers that year were especially sweet!

Saying a Whole Lot of Nothing

This morning I followed a link under the category of science and read an article written by an atheist about where to find God.  The writer threw around a whole lot of scientific terminology, but basically said nothing of substance.  It was not science.

I am, therefore, pondering obfuscation, which is the practice of using “big” words like obfuscation to make something difficult to understand.  This technique can be used to impress others or confuse them.  I find this quite annoying.

I know of a brilliant young man who enjoys the challenge of discussing highly complicated and technical matters in such a way that most average folks can have at least some understanding of them.  I have also encountered a young man in a graduate class I took some years ago, whose purpose was quite the opposite.  He would expound at length on some topic under discussion using big (i.e. multisyllabic) words, technical terms and currently in buzz words.  When he finished, most of the class seemed to be in awe of him.  I would be sitting there wondering, “Am I the only person here who realizes he just said absolutely nothing!”

During my working years, I attended a state-wide meeting on universal health care.  After a presentation from “an expert,” I posed a question.  She talked around in circles using all the “right” words.  When she finished, I said quietly to those sitting at my table, “Did she ever answer my question?”  All of the heads shook “no.”  A few minutes later, a rabbi from New York City got up and asked the same question.  She again talked and talked and said nothing of substance.  I wondered how many people in the room actually fell for this.

When you don’t understand what someone is talking about, it is, of course, possible that they are smarter than you, or that you are not familiar with the terminology they are using.  BUT, it is also possible that they don’t know what they are talking about and have just learned the right words to throw out there, or that they are purposely attempting to confuse you because they have an agenda.  A really intelligent person, who cares about his topic, will want you to understand and will make every attempt to communicate on the level of the audience.

Of course, one must have some sympathy for the person who really doesn’t know how to communicate and doesn’t even know he is not connecting with his audience.  I am talking about the brilliant person who lives in his own world.  I had a college professor whose initials were FOG and that is what most of his lectures were…fog.  He didn’t mean to leave us wandering in a cloud of confusion.  I can feel kindly toward him.

But in general, be suspicious of the person who obfuscates!

When I don't know how to pray....

Praying is something I do regularly and frequently.  I am not talking about a formal time when I sit down with prayer requests and check them off like items on a list.  I am talking about the way I live life.  As the day goes along, and I am faced with decisions, I silently ask for God’s guidance.  As people with needs come to my mind, I try to discipline myself to turn my thoughts of them into prayer for them.  All of that comes easily to me since I have been practicing it for decades.

But there are prayers that do not come easily.  Agonizing thoughts that come from the depths of my soul.  Friends or family may be in the throes of disease or difficulty…especially when the difficulty is of their own making, resulting from their own bad choices.  Then I simply don’t know what to say to God.  I don’t know what to ask for.  I may plead a generic, “Oh, help them!” but that doesn’t seem adequate.  I recognize that I do not possess the wisdom to ask for something specific.  I don’t have His mind.  Don’t know His plan.  Certainly, I can pray “thy will be done.”  But, that may not ease the painful struggle in my mind and heart.

When I find myself in that state, I have learned to repeat over and over, “Thank you for the Holy Spirit.”

Romans 8:26 The Spirit helps us in our weakness.  We do not know what we ought to pray for, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us with groans that words cannot express.  And he who searches our hearts knows the mind of the Spirit, because the Spirit intercedes for the saints in accordance with God’s will.

I have found that by repeating my gratefulness for the Holy Spirit, the turmoil within me subsides.  I rest in the knowledge that the Holy Spirit knows God’s will, because he is one with God, and yet knows my intents and can express them when all I can do is cry out.

I am sharing this, because I have recently talked to other believers who find themselves having no idea how to pray for someone they love.  If you find yourself in that situation, I encourage you to just start expressing thankfulness that we have been given the Holy Spirit as a comforter and intercessor.

50 Years

50 years

18250 days…plus a few extra for leap years.

A forever, but also an instant,

An eternity, but the blink of an eye.

We were young and optimistic,

Bravely stepping off the edge.

We promised to grow old together,

Confronting the unknown,

Full of faith, but still a bit scared.

And those days passed

One by one they crept or sped.

The clock ticked.

The pages turned.

Chapters were completed.

Children born, raised, launched.

Returned and relaunched.

Grandchildren sprang up.

But, we have slowed down,

As the years have accelerated.

We won’t get another fifty.

We don’t have the energy for them.

Each day we wake up together,

We are thankful for one more.

Each night we snuggle into each other,

Grateful we have kept our promises.

And when we step off the final edge,

A bit scared, into eternity,

We will be old and optimistic,

And still full of faith.

This Morning at Dunkin'

After dropping my granddaughter off at her job at 9 AM, I had 30 minutes to kill before my physical therapy appointment.  I made a quick stop at Staples, and then decided to go to Dunkin Donuts as I had left the house quickly and had not had time for coffee.

I usually go inside but decided to go to the drive-up.  I opened my window and spoke clearly toward the intercom.

“I would like a medium decaf coffee with cream and a headlight.”  Headlight donuts are my favorite.

The voice in the box replied, “I didn’t understand you.”

Me:  (voice raised slightly)  “A medium decaf with cream and a headlight.”

The voice:  “I still can’t hear you.”

Me:  (somewhat louder)  “Medium decaf with cream and a headlight.”

Voice:  “What size was that?”

Me:  (loudly)  “Medium”

Voice:  “I am having trouble understanding you.”

Me:  “OK…now I am going to shout.  A medium decaf with cream and a headlight.”  (As loud as possible)

Voice:  “Does that complete your order?”

Me:  “Yes”

Voice:  “Pull up to the window for your total.”

At this point, I am pretty sure she still hasn’t got it.  She did not repeat the order back to me, and she didn’t give me the amount, which they always seem to do.

I pulled up to the window.  Two employees were wearing headsets, so I didn’t know which one I had spoken with.  They were talking to each other and looking at a coffee cup which seemed to be the object of the discussion.

Employee 1 (to me):  “Was that a glazed donut?”

Me: (figuring the whole order was in doubt) “I want a medium decaf with cream and a headlight.”

Employee 2: “Oh, we’ve got it.  We’ve got it right here.”  She hands me the bag and cup.  “You don’t owe anything.  The customer in the car ahead of you heard you screaming and paid for your order.”

I’m thinking, “Oh, great.  This anonymous person thinks I am a crazed whacko having a bad day.”

Employee 2 nods toward Employee 1:  “She’s hard of hearing.”

Me:  “I’m sorry.  I didn’t mean to shout at you, but I kept raising my voice and you still couldn’t hear me”

Employee 1:  “It’s OK…it’s OK.”

So, I’m driving away pondering, “Why would Dunkin put an employee on the drive-up window who has a hearing problem?  Why would the employee not admit she has a hearing problem and can’t adequately do that job?

AND

Is there a person driving around town thinking they have done a kindness to a poor unbalanced soul (me) who screams at Dunkin employees?

I got to my physical therapy appointment and the young man who gets me started on the exercise bike asked me how things were going.  I told him this story.  Another patient in hearing distance cracked up laughing and said, “Oh, that is hilarious!”

I’m glad someone found it amusing.