Then & Now

    One of the benefits of aging is the perspective that comes from experience. Perspective is why I no longer jump on diet or health fad bandwagons, (perspective, and the fact that I am too old and fat to jump). I now realize the wagons are just passing through and only a moronic kangaroo would try to jump on all of them. Here are some of the "science" swaps of my adulthood. In the 70's the miracle vitamin was C, followed later by E, then B12. Now the cure for all ills is D3. Then the undiagnosed illness everyone was afraid they had was low blood sugar, which was a real issue--for about seven people. Now the illness you must have even though you don't realize it, is gluten intolerance. The reason gluten intolerance has become epidemic is because the list of symptoms consists of things experienced by every human on the planet, such as occasional sneezing.
     The impending weather disaster of the 70's was the coming ice age. Now, based on the same scientific expertise, it is global warming. The first sign of warming being the "cooking" of the statistics. The political ideology we feared back then was communism, which would usher in nuclear war. Now we fear terrorism, but not as much as being politically incorrect, even regarding terrorism. The enemy nations which inspired "James Bond" movies were Russia and China. Now our enemies are North Korea, who at least has the courtesy to admit it, and most Muslim countries, especially Iran. Unfortunately, our president is too busy being politically correct to attend briefings on our enemies. The bomb shelters of the 50's are back in vogue for the doomsday preppers of the 2010's, only now they contain more guns which will be needed to protect your hoard of trail mix from looters, not to mention protecting your brains from marauding zombies.
     In the 80's whether you went to the doctor for blood pressure or nail fungus, the culprit was coffee. Now three cups a day are the minimum requirement for health. When I had my first child, we were taught laying a baby on its back might cause it to aspirate and die, and the preferred thing to lay them on was faux sheepskin. Now laying a baby in any position except back would practically be considered a death wish, as would the sheepskin. Unfortunately, when this science shifts, it will be too late for the flat-headed babies. The immunization scare of the 80's was the supposed link between autism and the pertussis vaccine. In order to appease paranoid parents, a DT (diphtheria, tetanus) option was available. Now par(anoid)ents are omitting the MMR immunization because of (see above).
     Speaking of immunities, after years of being told to douse everything that might touch children with disinfectant, science now concludes that their bored immune systems are creating allergies just to have something to do. Along the same line, after school lunchrooms have made possession of a peanut butter sandwich as threatening as bringing a handgun to school (or pointing a cracker shaped like a handgun), doctors now say the upswing in peanut allergies is caused by introducing them too late. In a further food fad, coconut oil, which dieticians believed would clog arteries on contact, is now the current miracle cure. We know it works because it is endorsed by Dr. Oz, who is correct almost as often as the weatherman. There have been too many diets to count since the 70's, but one of the most popular now is the paleo, the diet that kept our hunter/gatherer forebearers slim for life--which was about 40 years.
     There are better ways to lose weight than jumping on and off of bandwagons and frankly, it makes us look a little gullible. Remember: Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me. Fool me over and over--we call that Obamacare.

     
                                                            

God's Day Off

    Many Christians today act as if our president got elected on God's day off. As though the leader of the nation that, at present, God most uses to spread the gospel, alleviate suffering, and speak out for justice in the world, was not of particular interest to Him. Even those who accept Romans 13:l,2 "Everyone must submit himself to the governing authorities, for there is no authority except that which God has established. The authorities that exist have been established by God. Consequently, he who rebels against the authority is rebelling against what God has instituted, and those who do so will bring judgment on themselves.", often look for an escape clause. Others feel that our president is God's punishment on America, but if that is true, isn't it still our duty to accept it in the way God commands. It's not as if The Lord doesn't know believers live here.
     The last time I gave in to despair about our leadership, Bill Clinton had just been reelected.  We were studying the history of Israel in BSF that year, and I felt as if Ahab and Jezebel had won the election. However, I could not help but notice that God was Sovereign, that He blessed for generations following one faithful king, and brought that faithfulness from the most unlikely lineage. Israel had little choice in who became king and even a rotten one could reign for decades. We have the privilege of having, supporting and voting for worthy candidates, but God gets the deciding vote. And He doesn't take days off.

Walk in the Wind

     I had so many months of creativity constipation since my surgery, I began believing my ability to write resided in my replaced, right knee. Fortunately (or not), my brain is now fertile again, probably because of the constipation previously mentioned, and I am producing brainchildren at a prodigious rate. Hence the following.

                                                  Walk in the Wind

Today we must go for a walk in the wind,

out of the door we go.

and we must follow the path that it takes

wherever the wind may blow.

We are as free as the waves on the sea

riding the gusts so high,

coats spread out wide like the sails on a ship

watching leaf-boats blow by.

We feel as high as the clouds in the sky,

feather-light wisps of white,

over the mountains, not knowing the place

where will shall be tonight.

If you should see my granddaughter and me

out in the cool, March wind

you will not guess the adventures we’ve had

or places that we have been.

We have not hasted and rushed through our day

and surely must pay the cost,

but time that is wasted on walks in the wind

never is truly lost.

Secret at Blackbird Cafe

     The fun of a rhyme is finding out
     as I write line by line
     what the poem is about.

     That was certainly my experience with this poem, which is strictly a work of fiction that, I hope, does not resemble anyone's real life. All I knew when I started writing was that I wanted a certain rhythm, a secret, and a twist. This is definitely twisted.

      Secret at Blackbird Café

That’s Roscoe O’Toole and his favorite stool

is the one in the corner there.

He eats twice a day at the Blackbird Café

because home is too lonely to bear.

He had a good wife he will love all his life,

although she passed away years ago.

A drunk hit her car as he drove from a bar

and she died by the side of the road.

The law never did catch up with the kid,

but Roscoe found out who he was

and shot him down dead with a round to the head

like the sniper he’d been in the war.

I helped him then because I was his friend,

and that body will never be found.

I declare to this day that the boy moved away,

and sometimes, that I’ve seen him around.

No one would guess from Roscoe’s quietness

at his stool in the Blackbird Café

the secret we share and the stain that we bear

for the bloodshed that happened that day.

Say what you will of a man’s right to kill,

we believe justice was done.

And I feel no regret for my part in the death

of my worthless excuse of a son.

 

Without Words

     The older I get, the more I become persuaded as a Christian that the exhortation of I Peter 3:1 for wives to win their husbands to the Lord without words has a broader application.  I believe it also applies to mothers of grown children, especially sons.  One of the reasons I believe this is because the more I pray for wisdom in how to approach spiritual issues with my children, the more God tells me to shut up--in more sanctified terms, of course, but that is the gist of it. This is a shame because I think I have so much wisdom to share, but since I have noticed the Holy Spirit doesn't use any of my suggestions to change other people's lives, I will have to trust Him on this also. That is the heart of the issue--do I trust God enough to believe He can guide my loved ones without my words?
     I had 18 years of their childhoods to plant, pour and pound God's word into my children's hearts. We supplemented that with both church and school that taught God's word. Now I must do the same thing Christ did when He left the earth just weeks after his disciples finally figured out who He was, I must trust the Holy Spirit to bring to their minds what they have been taught. My job is to develop that gentle and quiet spirit that God values so highly. I have messed up enough myself to be gentle with those who struggle. Quiet is an ongoing project.
     Faith aside, having lived with my husband for 37 years and sons for 30, I have noticed that the way to a man's heart is seldom his mama or his mate's mouth. God typically uses men to challenge men. When I started going to BSF years ago, I told my husband how much I was blessed by it but, in a rare stroke of wisdom, I did not push him to go. I prayed for another man to invite him. That not only led to my husband joining BSF, but to him inviting other men. At a family gathering some time ago, a female relative was lecturing a male family member about church attendance in a fairly public setting. My husband told me, "That won't work. It will only push him away." I am a pragmatist. I want to do what works. Not only am I not my husband's Holy Spirit, but my words can actually obscure His. That is like a friend's story of their faithful dog trying to protect her husband from the paramedics that came to help him when he fell off the roof.  I am by nature that well meaning, but clueless, dog. I hope someday to find that winsome, wordless wisdom of a woman of worth.

Waking Up

    This afternoon I did something I have not tried for a long time. Alas, it is not losing weight. It is sketching.  I wear Sketchers, but I am not a sketcher. Art has always been frustrating for me. The pictures I draw are nothing like the pictures in my head. My medium is words. With words I can express my thoughts with accuracy, and occasionally, beauty. Nevertheless, I found myself sitting on our back deck with a spiral notebook, a well-used pencil and tiny stub of talent. My only goal was to draw what was right in front of me. After drawing the back fence, spindly sumacs and leafless apple tree, there was an uninteresting empty spot, which in real life was only dead leaves and dormant grass.  I decided to push myself further and write a poem.
     Despite what I said above about expressing myself in words, my writing brain has been as dormant as the grass for months now. I am beginning to think it will never grow back, which is no great loss to the world of literature, but still disturbing to me. Perhaps I have blogged a piece of my mind too many times and now there is nothing left. I decided that, like the drawing, I would simply try to represent what was right in front of me which was the coming of spring.

Waking Up

Beneath the newly melted snow

before the grass begins to grow,

the promise of the coming spring

makes welcome, even common things

like dead grass, leaves and dog poop.

Rejoicing in the cloudless sky

the dog, the cat, the sun and I

enjoy the music of the birds

without the need for thought or words,

like leafless branches waking up.

Giraffes Again

   In the hilarious Jim Gaffigan video "Mr. Universe", he talks about staying at a Disney resort for a family vacation. There were giraffes (Giraffes!) outside the window of his hotel room, but after a few days he became bored with it--"(sigh) Giraffes again. Why couldn't it be a lion? or maybe a lion eating a giraffe?" Giraffes again has become my new expression for becoming inured to even positive experiences. We have been in Dallas for two and a half weeks now. There have been blue skies and temperatures in the sixties most of that time. I have not had to clean anything but laundry, or cook anything but my own lunch. I have eaten in my favorite restaurants like Red Lobster, Olive Garden, and Joe's Crab Shack. I have had ample time to rest, recover from knee replacement, and read. I am ready to go home, but I have not yet reached the giraffes again stage of being in Dallas.
     One of the perks of staying at a Residence Inn is the free breakfast. Of course there is the do-it-yourself waffle bar, toaster and cereal that most hotels provide now, but there are also scrambled eggs, meat, potatoes, oatmeal, muffins, fruit and yogurt. Yet, despite the abundant variety, I have reached the giraffes again stage of the hotel breakfast. To put this in perspective, my normal breakfast is fruit, toast and tea. I am hardly a gourmand. Yet somehow--giraffes again.
    As American Christians, it is easy for blessings to become blase (can't figure out how to put on the accent mark, but it's French.)  Sunny, sixties in January may be fairly normal for Texans, but it is an extraordinary experience for a Montana girl and I want it to stay extraordinary. I want to marvel at the giraffes God puts in my life again, and again.