Today's blog will finish up what I had begun writing on the afternoon of my 45th wedding anniversary as I answered my therapist's question, "What are you angry about?" At this point on my bumpy ride I had been going through therapy for only a short period of time. During my hour with Dr. B. each week, I had not been able to come up with any emotions I was experiencing or had experienced. All I could tell her was that I was ticked off and sad. I told her I knew God was in control and had been in control the whole time. I told her I knew God would use this whole sordid mess for good. How that would happen I didn't know, but I didn't want to miss it.
I want to make one thing clear at this point. At no time during my therapy did Dr. B make any judgement calls on my comments. At one point she did remind me that emotions were God given, but each week she basically asked questions that caused me to probe for the answers. As each session came to a close, she would give me a writing assignment, which I did not appreciate. I didn't mind the idea of writing, I didn't want to have to think.
Through the combination of our weekly conversations, her thought provoking questions, and the writing assignments, God began to reveal that I had a lot of work to do. After all, he had created me with the ability to feel. With the Spirit's help I had to discover where I had hidden my emotions, haul them out from those dark recesses of my mind, and name them so they could be dealt with. I was shown that sorrow, anger, confusion, doubt, hatred, etc were just some of the emotions I had been given as a human. I had also been given compassion, love, joy, hope, etc as well. They formed who I was. My feelings by themselves were neither bad nor good. It's what I was doing with them or allow them to do to me that would either give God glory or cause me great problems. By pushing my feelings away whenever they arose and then denying they ever existed, I was destroying part of who I was as God's child.
As I wrote on that Sunday afternoon, I had some fear. I didn't know what I would find in my search for anger. What I discovered were sentences coming off the end of my pen that surprised even me. After thoughts were completed I would re-read them and either ask myself, "Where in the world did that come from?" or tell myself, "Hummm, that's an interesting thought." After a couple hours of introspection and thought, I came to the final paragraph that went like this:
"In spite of it all, I am thankful. I'm thankful I had the investments necessary to weather the worst of the storm. I'm thankful for my wonderful kids who are going through their own kind of pain, but still find time to call and talk about their day, drop in unannounced, invite me to dinner or coffee and a chat, call to "check up" on me, or slip me small financial gifts just because. These extra dollars allow me to to see an occasional movie, get a Whopper at Burger King, buy cute socks or colorful bedding plants, or take a grandchild out for a treat, things that just aren't in my budget. I'm thankful I have discovered a part of myself I didn't know existed. I CAN figure out how to get the mower blades to engage. I CAN physically empty heavy bags of grass clippings. I CAN use the weed-eater. I CAN maneuver the garbage and recycle bins to the road. I CAN let my kids help me when necessary. I am a much stronger person today than I was 18 months ago. For that, in spite of my anger, I am thankful."
Three years ago it was not nearly as clear as it is today that what I really have to be thankful for is my Lord who is always at work as the advance man. He is the one who put everything into place ahead of time. Even now he has put everything into place for tomorrow, next month, next year. I just have to keep my heart, mind, and spiritual eyes open to what he has prepared, do what he wants me to do, and give him the thanks and the glory. Notice the word "just"? I could have used "only" or "merely" instead. Any one of those three words make the verbs seem as if they're easy to do. They are not.
I do know though that I CAN do all things through Christ who strengthens me.
I can be contacted at jansjournal@hotmail.com
Tuesday, June 26, 2012
Monday, June 25, 2012
I Am Angry (continued 2)
Why have there been no new posts the last two days? I've was out of town for a bridal shower. Since I have two grandsons getting married within the next six weeks, it seems like I have been on the road almost every weekend lately. All the trips weren't wedding related though. Two were for college graduation and Air Force commissioning events and parties. It has been fun.
For the next few moments, I will put the fun aside and return to my previous blog topic, anger. This anger is what I was feeling on my wedding anniversary in 2009 while I sat in my sun room and journaled. As I said before, my anger was not, and still isn't directed at my husband. My anger is directed at sin and its consequences. His actions hurt everyone he knew, especially his family.
"I am angry about the pain he caused his granddaughters--awakening in them some 'wonders' of their bodies that should never have been revealed at their ages of innocence. I am angry at the potential emotional and psychological harm he has caused.
"I am angry about the $100 worth of just filled prescriptions sitting on the dining room table waiting to be tossed into the garbage--fifty days worth of three different medications plus eye drops that couldn't be transferred from the County Jail to the State Prison. What a waste!!
"I am angry because he threw away everything he held dear: dinner and movies with me on date nights, river walks with his daughter-in-law, riding shot-gun into town with his son-in-law or son, hikes and camping trips with his entire family, birthday parties, school award assemblies and plays, holiday breakfasts that he loved preparing, spur of the moment phone calls to his kids, and playing with his grand kids. He threw away ministries he loved including our church's jail ministry. In addition, he threw away the things yet to come: track meets, basketball, soccer, and volleyball games, graduations, weddings, and great-grandchildren. He threw it all away. That angers me.
"I am angry that he has denied his grand kids the opportunity to get to know him as the gentle, kind, funny, wise man I married. I pray they don't remember him as a sick child molester spending his days sitting in a prison. To some grand kids he is still Papa, but to others he is now called by his first name. So sad.
"I am angry about the loneliness this has caused me--no more hugs, kisses, embraces, talks or cuddle time. I'm angry about having to fight back tears so I can drive safely. Times come when I must stop reading or whatever else I am doing to just let the tears flow. I don't like dealing with tears."
There you have it, some of what I was angry about. Many of those angers are still there, especially the ones about... To be perfectly honest, they all still make me angry to some extent when I take time to think about them. The good part is I feel more sadness than anger now, but there is still emotion attached to all of them except the waste of the medications and money to purchase them.
The last paragraph in my journal entry will be my blog tomorrow. It begins, "In spite of it all, I am thankful."
I can be reached by e-mail jansjournal@hotmail.com
For the next few moments, I will put the fun aside and return to my previous blog topic, anger. This anger is what I was feeling on my wedding anniversary in 2009 while I sat in my sun room and journaled. As I said before, my anger was not, and still isn't directed at my husband. My anger is directed at sin and its consequences. His actions hurt everyone he knew, especially his family.
"I am angry about the pain he caused his granddaughters--awakening in them some 'wonders' of their bodies that should never have been revealed at their ages of innocence. I am angry at the potential emotional and psychological harm he has caused.
"I am angry about the $100 worth of just filled prescriptions sitting on the dining room table waiting to be tossed into the garbage--fifty days worth of three different medications plus eye drops that couldn't be transferred from the County Jail to the State Prison. What a waste!!
"I am angry because he threw away everything he held dear: dinner and movies with me on date nights, river walks with his daughter-in-law, riding shot-gun into town with his son-in-law or son, hikes and camping trips with his entire family, birthday parties, school award assemblies and plays, holiday breakfasts that he loved preparing, spur of the moment phone calls to his kids, and playing with his grand kids. He threw away ministries he loved including our church's jail ministry. In addition, he threw away the things yet to come: track meets, basketball, soccer, and volleyball games, graduations, weddings, and great-grandchildren. He threw it all away. That angers me.
"I am angry that he has denied his grand kids the opportunity to get to know him as the gentle, kind, funny, wise man I married. I pray they don't remember him as a sick child molester spending his days sitting in a prison. To some grand kids he is still Papa, but to others he is now called by his first name. So sad.
"I am angry about the loneliness this has caused me--no more hugs, kisses, embraces, talks or cuddle time. I'm angry about having to fight back tears so I can drive safely. Times come when I must stop reading or whatever else I am doing to just let the tears flow. I don't like dealing with tears."
There you have it, some of what I was angry about. Many of those angers are still there, especially the ones about... To be perfectly honest, they all still make me angry to some extent when I take time to think about them. The good part is I feel more sadness than anger now, but there is still emotion attached to all of them except the waste of the medications and money to purchase them.
The last paragraph in my journal entry will be my blog tomorrow. It begins, "In spite of it all, I am thankful."
I can be reached by e-mail jansjournal@hotmail.com
Friday, June 22, 2012
I Am Angry (continued).
Yesterday I started sharing what I had written on my 45th wedding anniversary in 2009. My husband had been in jail for only 4 months. The writing was done for my therapist who wanted me to explore what I was angry about. This was a very hard thing for me to do because I didn't believe I was angry. I was ticked off, sad, confused, but I couldn't say that I was angry. Part of that was because I had confused anger with rage. There had not been any rage, therefore I must not be angry. Another part of denying anger was the way I was reared. Emotions were a waste of time and energy. I had learned quit well to suck it up and get on with life. There was no place for anger.
Well, sucking it up and getting on with life (trying to get on with life) wasn't happening. So there I sat on that Sunday afternoon and began writing about anger. The more I wrote, the more I found to be angry about. Here are the next few paragraphs that I wrote.
"I am angry about the lost dreams we had. What about the cruise to Alaska? What about Baja, Mexico? What about seeing all 50 states. We had such a great start. What about reliving the Western States trip we took with my folks and our kids. This time it was going to be you, me, our kids and grand kids. What about that? Sure, I can do some of this by myself, but not without guilt. Not guilt about going alone, but about spending part of what's left from our meager nest egg. I am angry enough to say, 'You threw me into this pit, so listen here buddy. I'm spending the rest of the money fulfilling our dreams all by myself. So there.' I'm angry enough to say it, but not angry enough to do it.
"I am angry about all the responsibilities I have been left with--or should I say had dumped on me? I hate making phone calls to start with, but dealing with credit card companies, attorneys, Social Security personnel, doctors, dentists, pharmacies, etc. was so hard. BUT I DID IT and SURVIVED. I don't want to ever go through that again any time soon. And then there is our home--a home I love. All the little things that can and do go wrong have to be dealt with. The wooden gutters are rotting and some of the soffits need replacing. Spigots in the garden that were broken off in the winter storm are still unusable, so I have left the orchard to fend for itself--getting watered only by the rain. Two giant fir trees are still down, needing to be cut up. The dishwasher is broken. NO BIG DEAL. I don't mind doing dishes by hand. Yes, it is a big deal, especially when I have the whole gang over.
"Being one to rationalize, I ask myself, 'What would I do if my husband had died?' The answer that comes is, 'The spigots would still be snapped off, the dishwasher still broken, the gutters still rotting, and the trees still down, but I would have life insurance money at my disposal to hire the work done."
That is where I was three years ago. It is quite obvious I was operating in a "poor me" mode. In spite of all the support I had from my family, deep down inside I was scared. I was living in a world I didn't know even existed. I knew neither its dangers nor its beauty. I had to learn how to navigate in a new land.
I bit the bullet, re-roofed the house, and had new gutters installed. That very difficult decision turned out to be the right one at the right time--God's time. There was quite a bit of rot in the rafters that could have spelled disaster in a heavy snow. God is good. The downed trees have been cut up and given to people in need of fire wood, thanks to a local volunteer fireman.
The dishwasher still doesn't work, but the new system works great. We fill the sink with hot soapy water and each person washes his own plate, utensils, and glass, rinses them, dries them, and puts then away. Not only does it work well, it causes a lot of laughs. The outdoor faucets still haven't been repaired, but there is enough rain to keep the apple trees producing and the grass green.
While learning to navigate my new world I have discovered that not only can I handle much more than I thought, but also that my kids, who help out whenever they can, however they can, are absolutely amazing. Thankfully, what had been foreign to me three years ago, is now a world I have learned to enjoy and celebrate.
Above all, I have learned, as I have said over and over, that God is faithful, faithful, faithful. He has provided encouragement when I needed it most. He has provided support when I was feeling weak. He has provided advice when I was questioning my decisions. He has provided various provisions when I was lacking.
To my family and friends, God has answered prayers, many of them unspoken, through you when you were not even aware if it. Thank you for your obedience. You are truly treasures who have blessed me greatly.
Well, sucking it up and getting on with life (trying to get on with life) wasn't happening. So there I sat on that Sunday afternoon and began writing about anger. The more I wrote, the more I found to be angry about. Here are the next few paragraphs that I wrote.
"I am angry about the lost dreams we had. What about the cruise to Alaska? What about Baja, Mexico? What about seeing all 50 states. We had such a great start. What about reliving the Western States trip we took with my folks and our kids. This time it was going to be you, me, our kids and grand kids. What about that? Sure, I can do some of this by myself, but not without guilt. Not guilt about going alone, but about spending part of what's left from our meager nest egg. I am angry enough to say, 'You threw me into this pit, so listen here buddy. I'm spending the rest of the money fulfilling our dreams all by myself. So there.' I'm angry enough to say it, but not angry enough to do it.
"I am angry about all the responsibilities I have been left with--or should I say had dumped on me? I hate making phone calls to start with, but dealing with credit card companies, attorneys, Social Security personnel, doctors, dentists, pharmacies, etc. was so hard. BUT I DID IT and SURVIVED. I don't want to ever go through that again any time soon. And then there is our home--a home I love. All the little things that can and do go wrong have to be dealt with. The wooden gutters are rotting and some of the soffits need replacing. Spigots in the garden that were broken off in the winter storm are still unusable, so I have left the orchard to fend for itself--getting watered only by the rain. Two giant fir trees are still down, needing to be cut up. The dishwasher is broken. NO BIG DEAL. I don't mind doing dishes by hand. Yes, it is a big deal, especially when I have the whole gang over.
"Being one to rationalize, I ask myself, 'What would I do if my husband had died?' The answer that comes is, 'The spigots would still be snapped off, the dishwasher still broken, the gutters still rotting, and the trees still down, but I would have life insurance money at my disposal to hire the work done."
That is where I was three years ago. It is quite obvious I was operating in a "poor me" mode. In spite of all the support I had from my family, deep down inside I was scared. I was living in a world I didn't know even existed. I knew neither its dangers nor its beauty. I had to learn how to navigate in a new land.
I bit the bullet, re-roofed the house, and had new gutters installed. That very difficult decision turned out to be the right one at the right time--God's time. There was quite a bit of rot in the rafters that could have spelled disaster in a heavy snow. God is good. The downed trees have been cut up and given to people in need of fire wood, thanks to a local volunteer fireman.
The dishwasher still doesn't work, but the new system works great. We fill the sink with hot soapy water and each person washes his own plate, utensils, and glass, rinses them, dries them, and puts then away. Not only does it work well, it causes a lot of laughs. The outdoor faucets still haven't been repaired, but there is enough rain to keep the apple trees producing and the grass green.
While learning to navigate my new world I have discovered that not only can I handle much more than I thought, but also that my kids, who help out whenever they can, however they can, are absolutely amazing. Thankfully, what had been foreign to me three years ago, is now a world I have learned to enjoy and celebrate.
Above all, I have learned, as I have said over and over, that God is faithful, faithful, faithful. He has provided encouragement when I needed it most. He has provided support when I was feeling weak. He has provided advice when I was questioning my decisions. He has provided various provisions when I was lacking.
To my family and friends, God has answered prayers, many of them unspoken, through you when you were not even aware if it. Thank you for your obedience. You are truly treasures who have blessed me greatly.
Something New
I can be reached this e-mail address:
jan'sjournal@hotmail.com
Thursday, June 21, 2012
Wedding Anniversary 2009
Today is my forth-eighth wedding anniversary. Man alive, I barely get that sentence off the tips of my fingers, and my throat tightens up and tears start forming. I'm caught by surprise again. I had no idea that was going to happen, but it did. (blow, snort, sniff, inhale deeply) Now, let's proceed.
When I plopped down on the sofa a couple minutes ago, I had a scrambled egg sandwich on my plate, and a different idea for this blog. This is how it transpired. I had just gone out to the garage to see if there was any gas in the mower. I was afraid I would have to make a trip to town to get fuel before I could mow. The tank was full!! Now that makes me happy. With a big smile on my face, I fixed my sandwich and thought about other little things that bring me joy. There were quite a few. Soon my idea had taken on a life of its own and my sandwich was ready to eat.
Why, oh why I wrote that first sentence is beyond me. Yes, it is my anniversary today. Yes, I got a card and a note from my husband. No, I didn't send him anything. Did I forget? No. That pretty much says it all. Even though I wrote on my Father's Day blog about recognizing my husband as a good father, I chose not to recognize the fact we have over forty years of good memories together. I still have a lot of healing to do. BUT, I have come a long way .
While going through the notebooks of written material from the past years, I came across one titled "I'm Angry Because..." dated Sunday, June 21, 2009. That was my first anniversary spent alone. The first paragraph described a beautiful day, beautiful yard that had lots of work to be done (nothing new), and the work family members had done to trim up my trees. Finally I wrote, "Rattling on and on about the yard isn't why I'm writing. I want to get on paper the reasons I am angry. This endeavor is a result of my therapist's questions about my lack of anger over this whole affair. So, here goes.
"First of all, I think I was confusing anger with RAGE. No, there has been no rage, but yes, there is anger. What I am about to say might sound crazy and even make little sense, but my anger seems to be over the consequences of my husbands actions and not the action itself. I am angry over the hardship, heart break and damage he brought upon the entire family, and to a lesser extent, our friends, but especially to me.
"I AM ANGRY THAT TODAY, OUR 45TH WEDDING ANNIVERSARY, HE IS SITTING IN A PRISON CELL WHILE I SAT IN CHURCH ALONE, CAME HOME TO AN EMPTY HOUSE (the dog doesn't count), AND TEARED UP OVER THE LEAST LITTLE THING.
"I am angry about the financial situation I have been put into. I have found myself spending hours figuring out what income I have to work with after losing $1,300 in Social Security. Sorting out monthly, bimonthly, quarterly, and annual bills would bring tears of anger and frustration. Having to throw attorney fees along with polygrapher and psychologist bills into the mix added insult to injury. I was angry about having to take large amounts of our investments out to pay off our credit card debt and the attorney's retainer fee when the market was falling at a rapid rate. Getting the "out-go" less than the "In-come" was painful. I was not a happy camper."
The rest of my anger, which I will share this next week, is expressed in paragraphs that start like this:
I am angry about the lost dreams we had.
I am angry about all the responsibilities I have been left with--or should I say had dumped on me.
I am angry about the pain he caused our granddaughters...
I am angry about the $100 worth of prescriptions sitting on the dining room table waiting to be tossed...
I am angry because my husband threw away everything he held dear...
I am angry that he has denied his grand kids the opportunity to get to know him as the...
I am angry about the loneliness this has caused.
In spite of it all, I am thankful because...
Stay tuned for what I wrote in those paragraphs in 2009, because here in 2012 the anger is mostly gone. There is still some sadness, but as I look at the difference between then and now, I smile.
I can now be contacted at jansjournal@hotmail.com
When I plopped down on the sofa a couple minutes ago, I had a scrambled egg sandwich on my plate, and a different idea for this blog. This is how it transpired. I had just gone out to the garage to see if there was any gas in the mower. I was afraid I would have to make a trip to town to get fuel before I could mow. The tank was full!! Now that makes me happy. With a big smile on my face, I fixed my sandwich and thought about other little things that bring me joy. There were quite a few. Soon my idea had taken on a life of its own and my sandwich was ready to eat.
Why, oh why I wrote that first sentence is beyond me. Yes, it is my anniversary today. Yes, I got a card and a note from my husband. No, I didn't send him anything. Did I forget? No. That pretty much says it all. Even though I wrote on my Father's Day blog about recognizing my husband as a good father, I chose not to recognize the fact we have over forty years of good memories together. I still have a lot of healing to do. BUT, I have come a long way .
While going through the notebooks of written material from the past years, I came across one titled "I'm Angry Because..." dated Sunday, June 21, 2009. That was my first anniversary spent alone. The first paragraph described a beautiful day, beautiful yard that had lots of work to be done (nothing new), and the work family members had done to trim up my trees. Finally I wrote, "Rattling on and on about the yard isn't why I'm writing. I want to get on paper the reasons I am angry. This endeavor is a result of my therapist's questions about my lack of anger over this whole affair. So, here goes.
"First of all, I think I was confusing anger with RAGE. No, there has been no rage, but yes, there is anger. What I am about to say might sound crazy and even make little sense, but my anger seems to be over the consequences of my husbands actions and not the action itself. I am angry over the hardship, heart break and damage he brought upon the entire family, and to a lesser extent, our friends, but especially to me.
"I AM ANGRY THAT TODAY, OUR 45TH WEDDING ANNIVERSARY, HE IS SITTING IN A PRISON CELL WHILE I SAT IN CHURCH ALONE, CAME HOME TO AN EMPTY HOUSE (the dog doesn't count), AND TEARED UP OVER THE LEAST LITTLE THING.
"I am angry about the financial situation I have been put into. I have found myself spending hours figuring out what income I have to work with after losing $1,300 in Social Security. Sorting out monthly, bimonthly, quarterly, and annual bills would bring tears of anger and frustration. Having to throw attorney fees along with polygrapher and psychologist bills into the mix added insult to injury. I was angry about having to take large amounts of our investments out to pay off our credit card debt and the attorney's retainer fee when the market was falling at a rapid rate. Getting the "out-go" less than the "In-come" was painful. I was not a happy camper."
The rest of my anger, which I will share this next week, is expressed in paragraphs that start like this:
I am angry about the lost dreams we had.
I am angry about all the responsibilities I have been left with--or should I say had dumped on me.
I am angry about the pain he caused our granddaughters...
I am angry about the $100 worth of prescriptions sitting on the dining room table waiting to be tossed...
I am angry because my husband threw away everything he held dear...
I am angry that he has denied his grand kids the opportunity to get to know him as the...
I am angry about the loneliness this has caused.
In spite of it all, I am thankful because...
Stay tuned for what I wrote in those paragraphs in 2009, because here in 2012 the anger is mostly gone. There is still some sadness, but as I look at the difference between then and now, I smile.
I can now be contacted at jansjournal@hotmail.com
Tuesday, June 19, 2012
Enjoy your Children
I am so happy. For the past month I haven't really let myself think of everything I had lost when my laptop crashed. This morning I finally decided to look in old notebooks and binders to see what I might have saved. I am a pack rat, you know. I was so thrilled to find original copies of many things I had put into my computer plus copies of assignments I had printed off for my therapist. I knew I had started a project sometime last year, but didn't realize what a great job I had done. (High five, ol' girl! Way to go.)
So today, I am going to share something I wrote years ago for the church newsletter. It was for an article I wrote every month called, "A Mother's Musings".
"An empty-nester mom recently told me she would like to tell today's busy moms to cherish the sight of sunlight glistening on their children's hair instead of hurrying off to get some work done while the kids were outside playing. Her comment got me to thinking. Here are a few things I'd like to share.
"Enjoy the sight of a dirt-smudged face and muddy hands. This is your children's time of discovery. They will not always enjoy the feel of mud oozing through their fingers nor have the ability to run their dirty hands through their hair without feeling guilty. Let them enjoy the dirt guilt free. They can always be washed.
"Take time to enjoy the aroma of your children's freshly shampooed hair and laundered p.j.s. There is nothing like squeaky-clean children at the end of a busy day.
"Laugh at old jokes. They are new to your children. 'Knock knock.' 'Who's there?'
"Dine on pretend food.
"Marvel at the children God has given you. Be amazed at their imagination and dexterity as well as their climbing, reasoning, and speaking abilities.
"Recognize your children's uniqueness and thank God for it.
"Pray aloud with our children from the moment of birth. Say grace at every meal. Pray over skinned knees and fevered brow. Pray before bed. Even three-year-olds will learn to pray spontaneously if they hear you do it.
"My twenty-four year old son was lying on a bench, eyes closed, when his three year old nephew bounded up to him saying, 'play with me, Unca DD.' Unca DD muttered something about being very tired. That was when the small boy took DD's hand and prayed, 'Jesus, let Unca DD sleep bery good. Our Father who art in heaben and power for eber and eber. Amen.'
"Yes, even small children can pray."
So today, I am going to share something I wrote years ago for the church newsletter. It was for an article I wrote every month called, "A Mother's Musings".
"An empty-nester mom recently told me she would like to tell today's busy moms to cherish the sight of sunlight glistening on their children's hair instead of hurrying off to get some work done while the kids were outside playing. Her comment got me to thinking. Here are a few things I'd like to share.
"Enjoy the sight of a dirt-smudged face and muddy hands. This is your children's time of discovery. They will not always enjoy the feel of mud oozing through their fingers nor have the ability to run their dirty hands through their hair without feeling guilty. Let them enjoy the dirt guilt free. They can always be washed.
"Take time to enjoy the aroma of your children's freshly shampooed hair and laundered p.j.s. There is nothing like squeaky-clean children at the end of a busy day.
"Laugh at old jokes. They are new to your children. 'Knock knock.' 'Who's there?'
"Dine on pretend food.
"Marvel at the children God has given you. Be amazed at their imagination and dexterity as well as their climbing, reasoning, and speaking abilities.
"Recognize your children's uniqueness and thank God for it.
"Pray aloud with our children from the moment of birth. Say grace at every meal. Pray over skinned knees and fevered brow. Pray before bed. Even three-year-olds will learn to pray spontaneously if they hear you do it.
"My twenty-four year old son was lying on a bench, eyes closed, when his three year old nephew bounded up to him saying, 'play with me, Unca DD.' Unca DD muttered something about being very tired. That was when the small boy took DD's hand and prayed, 'Jesus, let Unca DD sleep bery good. Our Father who art in heaben and power for eber and eber. Amen.'
"Yes, even small children can pray."
Monday, June 18, 2012
They Say
My hair was still damp as I stood there after my shower, wrapped in a green bath towel and brushing my teeth. That's when I first saw it--a flash of something light-colored fluttering by the side of my face. What in the world? I quickly looked in the mirror to see what it was, but everything was a blur. I tried squinting, but knew full well that wouldn't work. You see, my glasses were somewhere on the floor next to my bed, right where they had fallen when I had taken them off the night before. Now I would have to go find them. But I decided to finish polishing the proverbial ivories first, in spite of the flapping, fluttering motion beside me. Whatever it was, it was silent and had rhythm.
I spat out the last of my tooth paste, then padded into the bedroom, stood by my bed and looked down where my glasses should be. I didn't see them. Now, sadly, comes true confession time. I need glasses to see well enough to find my glasses! It's all part of getting old they say.
So, this "old" lady had to get down on her hand and knees to see her glasses. Let me tell you, that isn't easy to do while wrapped in a bath towel. Anyway, I got down without my towel falling off and found my glasses without having to feel around for them. Then came the difficult feat of getting back on my feet without losing my loosening towel. Oh, the aches and pains. It's all part of getting old they say.
Finally, with my feet under me once again, glasses on my face, and towel tightened, I returned to the bathroom to look for something that might flutter. As you have probably guessed by now, nothing was evident. So, I decided to blow-dry my freshly shampooed hair. With my round brush in one hand and dryer in the other, I began the beautifying process. What? There it was again.
Not a flutter did I see, but a wiggle and a jiggle it was. Stopping in mid brush stroke, I stared into the mirror. Nothing moved. I began brushing and drying again--slowly this time. All was calm in the bathroom world. As I finished up, I did the old fluff-up-the-hair routine and was startled to see it again out of the corner of my eye, the flash of... Yes, you've got it, the flash of flesh. My once-toned upper arm had become a limp, flabby, fluttering, wiggly, jiggly glob of flesh that silently waved with the rhythm of my shoulder. It is all part of getting old they say.
Well, I'm not getting old. My hair may be more white than brown, by neck may be sagging, my eyes failing, my joints aching, and my arms jiggling, but I am not getting old. I am still young-at-heart, eager to learn, quick to listen, and slow to get up (I mean slow to speak). I love sports, music with a beat, and a good sermon. I believe God is supreme, all powerful, a just judge, the lover of my soul, and has a sense of humor. He did create the platypus, didn't he? I know Jesus is my Bread of Life, my Living Water, my All-in-All, and has deep feelings. He cried over Jerusalem, didn't he? And I'll sing "Jesus Loves Me" and "The B I B L E" with the youngest of folks. No, I'm not getting old no matter what they say.
By the way, just who are "They" anyway?
I spat out the last of my tooth paste, then padded into the bedroom, stood by my bed and looked down where my glasses should be. I didn't see them. Now, sadly, comes true confession time. I need glasses to see well enough to find my glasses! It's all part of getting old they say.
So, this "old" lady had to get down on her hand and knees to see her glasses. Let me tell you, that isn't easy to do while wrapped in a bath towel. Anyway, I got down without my towel falling off and found my glasses without having to feel around for them. Then came the difficult feat of getting back on my feet without losing my loosening towel. Oh, the aches and pains. It's all part of getting old they say.
Finally, with my feet under me once again, glasses on my face, and towel tightened, I returned to the bathroom to look for something that might flutter. As you have probably guessed by now, nothing was evident. So, I decided to blow-dry my freshly shampooed hair. With my round brush in one hand and dryer in the other, I began the beautifying process. What? There it was again.
Not a flutter did I see, but a wiggle and a jiggle it was. Stopping in mid brush stroke, I stared into the mirror. Nothing moved. I began brushing and drying again--slowly this time. All was calm in the bathroom world. As I finished up, I did the old fluff-up-the-hair routine and was startled to see it again out of the corner of my eye, the flash of... Yes, you've got it, the flash of flesh. My once-toned upper arm had become a limp, flabby, fluttering, wiggly, jiggly glob of flesh that silently waved with the rhythm of my shoulder. It is all part of getting old they say.
Well, I'm not getting old. My hair may be more white than brown, by neck may be sagging, my eyes failing, my joints aching, and my arms jiggling, but I am not getting old. I am still young-at-heart, eager to learn, quick to listen, and slow to get up (I mean slow to speak). I love sports, music with a beat, and a good sermon. I believe God is supreme, all powerful, a just judge, the lover of my soul, and has a sense of humor. He did create the platypus, didn't he? I know Jesus is my Bread of Life, my Living Water, my All-in-All, and has deep feelings. He cried over Jerusalem, didn't he? And I'll sing "Jesus Loves Me" and "The B I B L E" with the youngest of folks. No, I'm not getting old no matter what they say.
By the way, just who are "They" anyway?
Sunday, June 17, 2012
Fathers' Day
Father's Day brings such a mixture of emotions to my mind. I think of my own dad who turned ninety-two this year. We are alike in many ways, but oh, so very different in others. I think the main reason Dad and I were so close while I was growing up was my love of math and science. I loved spending time with him figuring out how much sand, lime, gravel, and cement would be needed to pour a concrete footing for a retaining wall. Of course that was after we had already calculated the number of cubic yards we needed to fill the forms. Oh yes, we also had to determine how much re- bar we needed, etc., etc. I have so many good memories of designing projects with Dad.
He also taught me to reconcile a bank statement with the check book. To this day, I love the challenge of finding even a two-cent error and correcting it. While designing homes as a way to supplemental his income, he taught me to ink and letter his architectural drawings, but I will admit it was my mom who taught me to check those same plans for places to store the brooms, vacuum cleaners, sheets and towels--things my dad occasionally overlooked.
These life-forming events played a big part in shaping me as a person, but my most favorite memory as a small child is of sitting on the bathroom counter watching Dad shave. He would soak his face with a steaming washcloth, lather up his cheeks with shaving cream from a can, and then (drum roll, please) dab some on my nose to the accompaniment of this little girl's giggles. I loved those morning times with him and sort of wished I could do the same thing someday.
Thank you, Dad, for being my mentor, teaching me life skills, and letting me shave with you in the mornings. You help me become who I am today. Happy Father's Day.
I also think of my own sons on this Father's Day. As I was thinking about what to write today, I was surprised they came to mind before my own dad did. Maybe that is because I spent yesterday with my family celebrating a grandson's college graduation. My grandkids did a lot of joking and kidding about, "Oh, is tomorrow Father's Day?" That's because they have great dads.
My sons played with their kids, took them on hikes, vacations, and camping trips, encouraged their varying interests, participated in school and church events, taught them to pray and to serve, to respect and to work, to save and to tithe, to love and be loved. But above all, they showed their children, by example, what it looks like to love, worship, and serve Jesus Christ; thereby showing them what it means to love God. I am so proud of the God-fearing men they have become, the fathers they are, and the amazing grandchildren with which they have blessed me. Happy Father's Day, boys.
I also want to acknowledge what a wonderful dad my son-in-law is. He, too, is a man of God who teaches his children scripture and the things of God whenever the opportunity arises. His heart is large and his love my daughter and grandchildren is great. I'm thankful for him.
The hardest part of Father's Day for me is acknowledging the positive roll my husband played in the development ofmy our amazing sons. It is hard for me so look past the "error of his ways" to see the good examples he set in so many ways. His love of hiking and camping continues in his sons. His strong belief in returning to God the things that are God's by tithing continues in his sons. His willingness to stop whatever he had planned so he can help someone else continues in his sons. His helping out in the kitchen or with the housework when needed continues in his sons. He was a good dad and a good example. Happy Father's Day, and thank you, Father of our sons.
Now, as I have recognized that fact, I need to once again ask forgiveness for the resentment that arises whenever I think of the destructive behavior he exhibited, the harm he did, and the healing that still needs to take place. I must also be forgiven for my unwillingness to acknowledge him for the good he did and the father he was.
This all brings me around to the Father of all Fathers on this Father's day, the Heavenly Father who teaches how to truly love, serve, accept, care for, help, give, forgive... More than that, he shows by example.
"Lord, forgive me for my resentment and unwillingness. Let me be a more willing student, a faster learner, and a more accurate imitator. Let me sit on your counter and watch you every morning, then go and do what I see you do. Thanks for being my dad. Happy Father's Day, Abba."
He also taught me to reconcile a bank statement with the check book. To this day, I love the challenge of finding even a two-cent error and correcting it. While designing homes as a way to supplemental his income, he taught me to ink and letter his architectural drawings, but I will admit it was my mom who taught me to check those same plans for places to store the brooms, vacuum cleaners, sheets and towels--things my dad occasionally overlooked.
These life-forming events played a big part in shaping me as a person, but my most favorite memory as a small child is of sitting on the bathroom counter watching Dad shave. He would soak his face with a steaming washcloth, lather up his cheeks with shaving cream from a can, and then (drum roll, please) dab some on my nose to the accompaniment of this little girl's giggles. I loved those morning times with him and sort of wished I could do the same thing someday.
Thank you, Dad, for being my mentor, teaching me life skills, and letting me shave with you in the mornings. You help me become who I am today. Happy Father's Day.
I also think of my own sons on this Father's Day. As I was thinking about what to write today, I was surprised they came to mind before my own dad did. Maybe that is because I spent yesterday with my family celebrating a grandson's college graduation. My grandkids did a lot of joking and kidding about, "Oh, is tomorrow Father's Day?" That's because they have great dads.
My sons played with their kids, took them on hikes, vacations, and camping trips, encouraged their varying interests, participated in school and church events, taught them to pray and to serve, to respect and to work, to save and to tithe, to love and be loved. But above all, they showed their children, by example, what it looks like to love, worship, and serve Jesus Christ; thereby showing them what it means to love God. I am so proud of the God-fearing men they have become, the fathers they are, and the amazing grandchildren with which they have blessed me. Happy Father's Day, boys.
I also want to acknowledge what a wonderful dad my son-in-law is. He, too, is a man of God who teaches his children scripture and the things of God whenever the opportunity arises. His heart is large and his love my daughter and grandchildren is great. I'm thankful for him.
The hardest part of Father's Day for me is acknowledging the positive roll my husband played in the development of
Now, as I have recognized that fact, I need to once again ask forgiveness for the resentment that arises whenever I think of the destructive behavior he exhibited, the harm he did, and the healing that still needs to take place. I must also be forgiven for my unwillingness to acknowledge him for the good he did and the father he was.
This all brings me around to the Father of all Fathers on this Father's day, the Heavenly Father who teaches how to truly love, serve, accept, care for, help, give, forgive... More than that, he shows by example.
"Lord, forgive me for my resentment and unwillingness. Let me be a more willing student, a faster learner, and a more accurate imitator. Let me sit on your counter and watch you every morning, then go and do what I see you do. Thanks for being my dad. Happy Father's Day, Abba."
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