"This and That" followed by "It's Not Fair"

If, as a writer, I am unable to imagine, conjure up, visualize, or have a revelation about anything to write, the pros say, "Write anyway." I have ignored that advice for too long now.

These past weeks I have heard great sermons, attended stimulating Bible studies, and participated in powerful prayer meetings. With all the spiritual energy that has surrounded me, a comic-strip light bulb occasionally appeared. Holy Spirit "aha" moments did grab my attention; however, nothing stood out as far as this blog goes.

I have attended exciting track meets, enjoyed sunny days, rain, and my silly cat. I did write one post as a result of my granddaughter's false start at a track meet, but that was it.  I have written nothing because I didn't have any idea about what to write.

So, what's this gal to do? Sit here in my chair, free write, and see what comes off the end of my fingers.

I have a To-do list with a zillion tasks to complete before noon tomorrow when I leave for ten days. I wonder how in the world I will do them all when I am helping at the school for a few hours after lunch. I guess I will do them the way I always do things. I will prioritize, then do them one at a time in any order I decide. In the meantime, I sit here writing, which makes no sense because I should be taking care of my important jobs.

So, why am I writing?  First off, I am writing because I feel guilty about not writing all week. More importantly, I am writing because of a Dream List I wrote earlier this year. On that list was, "Write and publish a book." The battle I fight in that area will never be won if I don't write when I have no idea what to say. So, I am writing.

My To-do list has several items crossed off. I have washed my clothes, stopped mail and newspaper delivery, paid some up-coming bills, and cleaned bathrooms. I also wrote a letter to my husband--not on my list.

By noon tomorrow, when my car is packed up and I leave for the school, my adventure will begin. The adventure is not only mine, but also Licorice Kitty's. I will be attending both a district and a state track meet. A train trip to see my sister and dad is sandwiched in-between. Dad will be celebrating his 94th birthday. I am looking forward to the visit.

Licorice will spending the time at a "cat spa". That should be interesting. The two of us get along just fine, but I know what she will tolerate. She loves to run, play, and attack the covers when I make the bed. She hides behind furniture and grabs my legs with her paws when I walk by. She comes to me when she wants to say hi, get petted, or sleep on my lap, but she doesn't like to be picked up or put in any situation where she feels trapped. AND, she still hunts.

Several days ago a freshly killed shrew greeted me from the welcome mat. Most cats don't eat shrews; Licorice was no different. She merely left it for me to admire, and admire, and admire. After returning from town this afternoon, I discovered that the tiny, little rodent was gone. Some critter had carted it off. Hooray for some critter.

As I have finished writing all this 'stuff', one question continues haunting my mind. It is a culmination of all this week's activities, studies, daily living, and a great-niece's facebook post.

Over and over again I hear about the unfairness of life. I absolutely agree that tragic events around the world seem extremely unfair. From stories of kidnapped girls to children dying of cancer, the not-fair cry raises heavenward. Lost jobs and natural disasters cause the same not-fair cry to echo across the land. Traumatized and hurting people have done nothing to deserve what they have received. It isn't fair.

Why then don't I cry out, "It's not fair!" when I have something I don't deserve in my life? Why don't I grieve because of the unfairness of having a wonderful family and friends and a comfortable home and good health? All I have, all I have been given, is completely undeserved.

And what I did deserve I didn't receive. Christ received it in my place. That is not fair, but it is God's love and grace.

Blessed by the unfairness of grace,
Jan

Learning from, "Oooops."

80+ degrees on the coast is too, too hot. At least for most of the us spectators at yesterday's track meet it was too hot. Having the stands full of people isn't unusual around here. That is usually the only place to stay dry and out of the biting wind. Yesterday that was the only place to stay out of the sun. Sadly, an afternoon breeze never developed, so there was absolutely no relief. But hey, we didn't care. The athletes did well, the company was great, and I loved hearing a young athlete sitting next to us ask his friend, "Who is that short, little girl coming around the corner?"  You guessed it. My oldest granddaughter who was gaining on and ultimately passing their team mate just inches from the finish line of the 200 meter dash. Impressive!--even to the competition.

More impressive, though, was a younger granddaughter's performance. Because she had never run the 400 meter dash in competition before, she was not seeded, This meant she was to start in the far outside lane. In a staggered start, that meant she would seemingly be in the lead for most of the race--at least until the last third, but hopefully more (a tough lane to be in). She is fast and hoped to make it to districts next week. She was pumped and ready to show the rest of the runners that they had some serious competition.

"On your marks!" She steps into the blocks.

"Set!" She settles into place. Her mind is focused on the race ahead.

Starter pauses.

Granddaughter loses her balance and steps off her blocks just as the gun goes off.

Second gun sounds. False start. Granddaughter is disqualified.

I am so proud of that girl. Yes, she sought solitude for a time. Yes, she cried (sobbed actually). Yes, she was disappointed. All her hard work to reach this point seemed for naught; however, within a half hour or so she was out of seclusion, videoing other athletes, and talking to coaches, family and team mates. A smile was back on her face in spite of the occasional tear. She is ready to run again tomorrow in the  4x100 meter relay. She will also high jump tomorrow. Life will go on.

Last night after getting home she tweeted, "Thank you to all my family and friends for comforting me when I was crying. It meant a lot. I am proud to have a team/family like you guys!"

This granddaughter I once knew as a silly-little, pretty-little girl  has become a witty, talented, beautiful young women  who continually surprises and blesses me with her thoughts, wisdom, and love.

She will probably always remember that false start, but I pray there will be life lessons learned--lessons about: working hard, disappointments, always being ready to move forward even if she occasionally jumps the gun, false starts saying nothing about her abilities or her training, and victories are more than crossing the finish line first.

You're a winner, girl.

I will spend another afternoon at a track meet tomorrow, the final day of district pre-lims. This meet determines what athletes will advance to next week's district competition. All five grandchildren have a good chance to make it, barring dropped batons, scratched jumps, and false starts. No matter what happens, they are all winners in my eyes.

Thankful that my Lord thinks I'm a winner too, even when I have false starts. Ooooops! I did it again.
Jan

I Am Truly Blessed

A wonderful Mother's Day is what I had. Wonderful is very good, but underlying it all was a tinge of sadness. I could never put my finger in the reason for this feeling. I just knew it was there.

My day started off with text messages from my kids, and a grandson, then continued with a great church service and visiting with friends. After getting home to let Licorice Kitty in, I joined my daughter's family for a nice lasagna and green salad meal followed up with a freshly baked rhubarb crisp. My son-in-law did all the clean up. That was followed by graduation party planning and senior picture ordering. I thoroughly enjoyed myself--especially the picture ordering.

Here is a question that came up. In pictures taken with a pet cow, do you choose the picture for the cow or the girl? I chuckled over that one. Thankfully, all the girl's poses were great. My decision was a full-face view of the cow instead of the profile view. Only in rural America!

We had most of the party planning done and were barely finished choosing all the pictures and our cups of apple-cinnamon tea when the phone rang. It was my son. "Mom, are you hungry yet?" he asked. I gave my usual replay of, "I'm working on it." In response he shot back, "We will pick you up in a few minutes."

Suddenly, I found myself perched in the front seat of their van surrounded by their family, and headed off for dinner at a local restaurant. Since servings are huge, we each shared a meal and still had two boxes of leftovers to take home with us,

As we ate, we shared funny stories as well as weekend happenings. I love hearing the grand-kids tales.

As for the sadness that hung around, I did a good job blocking out most memories of my own mom who died around 10 years ago. Why I did that, I don't know. She was a good mom. Her not being around might have been a source of my feelings. I thought of my husband and experienced some negative emotions--sort of a split second mini pity party as other husbands went to the front of the church to get flowers for their wives. Sadness and resentment were short lived, but they were there.

And the party planning? As much as I love helping my daughter with stuff like this, it makes me very sad to think that because of my husband's moments of weakness, he separated himself from things that brought him the most joy--his grand-kids. By the time he gets out of prison, there will be no more sporting events, school activities, or high school graduations to attend. Those will all be over.

I can't let myself dwell on thoughts like that. 2 Corinthians 10:5 says to take every thought captive to the obedience of Christ. If I let my disappointments, sorrows, and negative thoughts from everyday living lead me down the path marked, "Poor me, why, if only" I most assuredly will lose the Joy of the Lord. Instead I celebrate and thank the Lord he has brought me this far, and there is still a road to continue down. With God, there are no dead ends.

I am so thankful for my wonderful family. I am truly blessed.

Points of View on My Poached Egg Morning

It is a bright, gray day with dancing shadows on buildings and lawns, and no rain puddles in sight. This is my kind of day. Breakfast was also slated to be my kind of breakfast. Mentally, a poached egg served on a bed of sautéed mushrooms and spinach was on the menu. With a watering mouth, I rolled out of bed. Every step for a culinary masterpiece was already in motion--at least in my mind.

Upon reaching the kitchen, I grabbed my little egg poaching pan, added the necessary amount of water, and turned  on the burner. The water would be boiling soon. I then put a large skillet on the biggest burner, poured in some olive oil (extra virgin), and turned it on. While the skillet heated, I retrieved an egg, a large mushroom, and a huge handful of fresh spinach from the fridge. All was on schedule.

I proceeded to slice the mushroom and place it and the spinach in my now-hot pan. Stir, stir. Add a little salt and pepper, stir, stir. Oh, look, the water is boiling. I break the egg into the egg cup, place it above the boiling water, put its lid in place, and return to the spinach skillet. Great, its contents are perfectly cooked..

I had no sooner arranged the spinach-mushroom creation on my plate than I remembered I needed to set the timer for my egg. Soooooo, with my left hand I reach to my right, hit the handle of the egg poacher (which I had failed to turn away from the edge of the stove) and knocked it to the floor. (That step was not on my mental list) Leaping a mighty backward leap, I managed to avoid any boiling water headed toward my little, bare tootsies.

"Thank you, Lord."

Now, I no longer had a poached egg to place on my spinach. I had  instead an egg yolk splattered on my kitchen floor, its vibrant yellow bleeding into its slimy, uncooked white as well as a cup of rapidly cooling water.  An accidental masterpiece of color, texture, and form was wonderfully morphing into something even more beautiful. Art in motion! There at my feet was artwork at its finest, but how could I  properly display the finished piece. It couldn't remain on the floor; however, dark wood did make a beautiful backdrop for my egg-scape. Finally, I did the only reasonable thing I could. The entire finished piece was absorbed into a paper towel or two or three, and carefully placed into the special depository under my sink.  If you visit my Garbage (Gahr bawge) Can Gallery today, you will find Jan's "Eggstaveganza in Motion" displayed between "Chicken Bone Horrors" and "Salad Choppings". Today is the only showing of this particular exhibit.

Anyway, I digressed. The unscheduled pan flipping set off a flurry of floor clean up, more water heating, and a new egg retrieval. Six minutes later I set a beautiful, steaming, poached egg onto vibrant green, cold, spinach and mushrooms, poured myself a glass of V8 juice, and feasted on my culinary masterpiece. Aaaah.

When I got up this morning I had no idea the adventures the next hours would bring. I had anticipated my enjoyment of a delicious breakfast, but I certainly hadn't expected to experience living art taking form at my feet. That was a special bonus for this new day. But, better yet, a large portion of my kitchen floor is really, really clean now.

If I had chosen to describe my day in negative terms, it would have gone something like this.

What? Cloudy again, I don't need another cloudy, Pacific Northwest day. ANOTHER. Bah Humbug.

I'm going to starve to death if I don't eat pretty soon. Who made the handle on that pan so long? Man alive, there is nothing I dislike more than cleaning up broken eggs from the floor. Stupid pan. Stupid egg, Stupid day. Now I have to start all over. Grrrr.

Now to eat this stuff. I'm starving. Eeeeww. Cold spinach. Yuck. I should have settled for peanut butter toast, but probably would have messed that up too. I dislike burnt toast as much as I dislike cold spinach.

It isn't even noon and my day has been ruined. I think I will get back in bed.

Here is the difference between those two approaches to my day, my week, my life--

This is the day the Lord has made. I will rejoice and be glad in it*. Thank you for sunshine and  CLOUDS. Thank you for spinach (both hot an cold). Thank you for eggs in the pan and on the floor. Thank you for un-burned feet, cleaning supplies, and a shiny, clean floor in front of my stove. Thank you, Lord. and may I continue seeing you in all parts of my days, weeks, and years. Oh Lord, you are good, and your mercy continue forever**.

Jan

 *Psalm 118:24
**Psalm 110:5

A Motionless Puddle Noon-day.

I have a new way for telling what the weather is at any moment. It is all about shadows and brightness and sky color and puddle conditions. Right now it is medium gray overhead, some brightness in places, no shadows, and motionless puddles. An hour ago it was dark gray skies, no brightness anywhere, no shadows, and bouncing puddles. Yesterday we had blue skies, lots of brightness, shadows on buildings and the ground, and no puddles anywhere. I can hardly wait to see what this afternoon brings because I am going to get my hair cut and styled. Finally.

A new "do" means that by 1:30 I will be a new woman. How long that will last is the question. By then the sky should be so gray it looks black., brightness will be a forgotten term, so will shadows, and puddles will be deep ponds alive with Foot Monsters ready go attack whatever runs by.

Oh, an umbrella you say. Those are for tourists. Instead, I'll wear my grand-kids's school hoodie (go Cats) and hurry back home for a track meet. Then, during periods of drizzle followed by showers, followed by downpours, I will watch from wind gusted bleachers as my grand-kids and their peers get soaked. It will be a black, dark, shadowless, puddle bouncing meet, but it will be fun.

For some reason the kids love running in the rain. It it probably pure defiance to their mom's words, "What in the world do you think you are doing out there in the rain. Get inside right now. Do you want to catch your death of pneumonia! And don't get your feet wet!"

It might be a miserable day weather-wise, but as I tweeted this morning, My favorite days begin with Ms, Ts, Ws, Fs, Ss, and Jesus.

How do your favorite days begin?

Off I go in a gray, shadowless, somewhat bright, motionless puddle noon-day.

Jan

Climbing the Wall

Where in the world did the expression, "Climbing the wall" come from? I just spent half an hour trying to find out, but found myself up a creek without a paddle, and in the dark about its origin.

I did find out the definition of the term, although frustrated or anxious doesn't quite describe why I am climbing the walls. I itch!! Yes, you read it right. I itch. I have an itching rash from the top of my head to my neck all because I forgot my summertime no-no. Sunshine.

I thought I was being careful during our three days of sunshine. I wore long sleeved shirts, gloves, and a baseball cap when I mowed the yard and field last week. I wore 3/4 length sleeves and a cap while at a track meet, but I guess my face and neck still got enough sun to trigger the photo-reaction--all because of a medication I take. So, I am climbing the walls trying to keep from scratching my face and neck.

According to the pharmacist, the only remedy, although temporary, is using a cortisone cream and drinking lots of liquids. Antihistamines won't help. Oh well, maybe next time the sun is shining I will remember not to mow in the middle of the day. I will mow in the evening and hope my neighbor doesn't climb a wall and come after me. (that is a joke, I think)

So much for my wall climbing. Now for Licorice Kitty's wall climbing. This weekend, as I was sitting in the sun room and enjoying the view and smell of my newly mowed lawn, I heard her meow. There she was, half way up the chimney just outside the window and looking in at me. Well, that is one way to let me know she wants in the house. It worked. So I guess you can say we were both climbing the walls. Me, from my unending itch, and she from her frustration of not getting the house when she wanted to.

Now that I have unloaded my complaint for today, I have an idea about that expression's true meaning. It is not about being merely frustrated or anxious, but rather being frustrated and anxious to the point of doing anything to escape from the situation, even if it means climbing over the walls that surround me.

"Help! I want out of here!" I say.

"Meow, I want in there!" Licorice says.

So much for climbing walls. I need to leave for town in fifteen minutes. If I don't get my rear in gear, I will be in a pickle, whatever than means.

Off I go. Oh drat, the sun is shining. Yea, there are clouds in the sky.

God day to all,
Jan

Default Mode

Strong-willed modem!! It must not have liked my password, so decided to revert to its original default password, whatever that was. As a result, I have had no internet access for a week. The first couple days I thought my computer might have picked up a bug and was very ill. Maybe it needed to visit the emergency room again. Instead I took it to my son's house for my own form of triage. I needed to see if it could connect to the internet over there. Yep, it did. Hooray, my computer wasn't ill after all. What could the problem be?

This morning I finally called my internet provider (I don't like making calls to deal with these kind of problems), After getting a friendly recording, I pushed 1, pushed 1 again, pushed 10, entered my account number, listened to music, and finally talked with the techie. After explaining my situation, I went through a series of drop-down menus, as directed, making the required left and right clicks, then entered my password. No luck. The internet was still not available to my computer. Finally the tech said I needed to connect with an ether-net cable so he could see what was going on inside the modem. Well, that all sounded just fine, but I wasn't sure where my cable was. Besides, I had a meeting to go to in half an hour. I told him I would call back later in the day after the misplaced had been relocated. Of course, I found it right after I had hung up. It was nicely coiled up on the floor next to the phone jack.

When I called back this afternoon, I got a different tech who read over the notes on my problem, but had a different approach which worked. I now have a new password. I liked my old one better, but this one will do. At least the modem is no longer in control.

And that brings me to my post for today. DEFAULT settings. My default settings are for selfishness, jealousy, hatred, pride, lust, gluttony, and the list goes on. Those are the models that the world holds out as the way we are and the way we live.

Sorry, world, but I have a new owner now, one who paid a great price for me. All those default settings are being changed. Some changed instantaneously. Others are changing bit by bit, but they are changing. I am becoming what my new Master desires me to be--generous, forgiving, loving, self-controlled, thankful... But there are times that my thoughts, like my modem, slip back into default mode.

I'm thankful my Holy Spirit tech support is within me, cluing me in on potential problems, warning me of threats to my systems, and showing me how to overcome DEFAULT when it is gaining control.

By the way, my old password for my computer modem was the same one I use for my heart modem. "God leads."

That's it for today.
The arty shadows on my garage mean only one thing. The sun is shining.

Jan