1. Chris and I saw the movie ‘Golda’ yesterday. It is about Golda Meir and the Yom Kippur war in 1973. There was a lot of original footage.
It was especially poignant as it mirrored so many current events. Fifty years since the Yom Kippur War, and nothing much has changed in the players.
Israel is attacked – Israel fights back and defends itself —- other nations call for Israel’s restraint and apply pressure for ceasefire. Repeat. Again and again.
Ecclesiastes 1:9 says: “What has happened before will happen again. What has been done before will be done again. There is nothing new in the whole world.“
2. Below is a blog post from a lady that lives in Israel and writes under the name Forest Rain. Her writing touches my heart.
“Israel was soft with Gaza so they assumed we have no honor.
They broke into our homes, raped, tortured, burned, broke and butchered our people.
And in between, they opened our refrigerators, sat down at our tables and ate our food.
We don’t do all those horrible things.
But we will prove to them and everyone watching that we meant it when we said Never Again.
And that is why now we are in their homes.”
3. I read this X post from a journalist who watched the latest videos released by the Israeli government on the atrocities from October 7. It is so graphic and horrifying I will only post the text of the link here. If you dare to read it, remove the 3 x’s from the beginning then copy and paste into your browser.
“For Zion’s sake I will not keep silent, for Jerusalem’s sake I will not remain quiet, till her righteousness shines out like the dawn, her salvation like a blazing torch.” ~Isaiah 62:1
I am here.
These radicals and terrorists are fueled by hate and indifference to life. Israel is like a mother defending her children. When attacked, mothers from all species will fiercely defend their young. Who would expect any less?
I sit often in disbelief in what is happening around the world… the world’s shock turned to blame, blame to animosity, animosity to hate.
So many times I’ve heard ‘Never Again’ and here we are AGAIN!!
My eyes do not want to see anymore, my ears to not want to hear anymore. My heart wants to stop aching. My only hope is to trust in God, his word says…
“Indeed, he who watches over Israel will neither slumber nor sleep. The Lord watches over you — the Lord is your shade at your right hand. The Lord will keep you from all harm — he will watch over your life.” ~ Psalm 121:4-5; 7
November 11: Veterans Day in The US, Armistice Day and Remembrance Day in UK, Canada and other countries.
A time to honor and recognize the men and women who have served to protect the freedoms for which we all have benefited – our freedoms, and the freedom of people all around the world.
They have sacrificed, they did so for love of their countries, with a sense of honor and pride. Their devotion for the countries they served does not fade. They are a noble group, a very small percentage of our population who answered the call to serve.
I did some research and found that those currently serving (active duty) in the US Military, all branches, comprises (.4%) less than ONE HALF of ONE PERCENT of the population of the United States. In 1970 during the Vietnam War it was only 1.4%.
Today there are 18.2 million veterans living in the US going back to WWII. So total the percent of US veterans still living is just 6.4% of the US population.
They truly are, and were, the select, the brave and the few who sacrificed so much for the protection and security of the 99.6% of the rest of us.
They are the shield standing between us and those who want to destroy us. My promise is to honor and remember them everyday and keep them always on my heart and in my prayers.
It is November, and I am thankful for all things in my life. I often take this month to to take a special accounting of all the blessings in my life, whether they be large and small, and I share them each day. However, this year my heart feels heavy. I still remind myself everyday, I am just finding it hard to share when so many are suffering.
My hope in the future is waning and it seems everyday there is more and more discourse, more incidents that indicate we as a society are in trouble. I cannot escape the sense of foreboding or shut out the noise, the hate, or the insanity that I am bombarded with everyday, as it seems it is now every moment of everyday.
Truly, lately, I feel as the old hymn says…”This world is not my home.” and daily I am telling myself that, ” I am just passing through.”
Today two posts from the past expressions of gratitude broughtme some peace. They reminded me that even in all the chaos around me and in the world, there is still so much to be thankful for. I can still count my blessings and be thankful when others are struggling. I do so with a humble heart knowing that I have done nothing to deserve even one blessing or even my next breath.
The first post follows this simple instruction from Psalm 69 says, “…praise the name of God with Song”… meaning to worship. When I sing and praise God it lifts my spirit, it eases my deep sighs and fill my heart with gratitude.
“I will praise the name of God with song, And exalt Him with thanksgiving.” Psalm 69:30 NASB
“I have learned that in every circumstance that comes my way, I can choose to respond in one of two ways: I can whine or I can worship! And I can’t worship without giving thanks. It just isn’t possible. When we choose the pathway of worship and giving thanks, especially in the midst of difficult circumstances, there is a fragrance, a radiance, that issues forth out of our lives to bless the Lord and others.” ~Nancy Leigh DeMoss
The second post was more personal, of all the gifts I have received, my sons are among the greatest. They are unique and each one touches my heart in different way.
“Let us be grateful to the people who make us happy; they are the charming gardeners who make our souls blossom.” ~ Marcel Proust
This picture, taken in 1999, makes me smile each time I see it and I see it everyday. These three people are the ones that make me happy and bring joy to my heart.
It is November, a month for giving thanks. I thank God for everything because He has given me Everything.
In June, I purchased a pair of Bose QuietComfort Earbuds II. At nearly $300 it took me a year to even convince myself that I deserved them.
I had some cheaper earbuds several years ago that proved to be more of a frustration than useful. They were hard to connect, the charging connection was finicky, and after a few months they just fell apart.
I loved these new earbuds. They connected to The Behemoth that big 75” QLED TV and when I traveled I could keep my phone charged without having to unplug the earphones. Best of all, when I was out mowing the lawn they not only muffled the mower sound, but I could hear if anyone called and I had music that seemed to make the job a little less strenuous and tedious.
So all-in-all, I was pleased with them and I realized they were well worth the price because they were going to last a long while.
Fast forward just three months, Monday afternoon, we are in rush hour traffic trying to get to SeaTac Airport to pickup my sister, Paulette, who was coming for a visit. I am driving because, well, I wanted to get there without my stomach in my throat.
We arrived about 10 minutes after the plane had landed, so Chris jumped out at the bridge to the terminal to meet Paulette and I was going to find a place to park and catch up.
When I parked and turned off the car, I got a warning tone… “Ding, ding, ding, ding, ding” and it says on the dash, “Key fob not detected press brake to restart.”
Oops, I did not have my key fob and Chris’s was in his pocket. I opened the door to get out thinking I would just manually lock the door and go. But to make my frustration worse, my purse that had been between me and the door fell out of the car and all the contents dumped on the ground.
I quickly gathered everything, took a quick look around to make sure nothing rolled away then I tried to manually lock the car because apparently it could still be restarted until a key fob was present.
However when I hit the manual lock, it would lock all the doors but the driver’s door. Still dinging, still instructing me to restart. I could not leave it like this, I called Chris and told him where I was parked and stayed in the car. After about ten minutes the lights went out and everything shut off. I tried to start it but the restart no longer worked.
This seems like a good thing but I am telling you it is not! Cars these days are so “smart” you have to play by their rules or you are doomed. I had enough brain power to think through the “what ifs” of opening the door and leaving. The way things were going, I would open the door, the alarm would go off, but because I had no key fob, I would have no way to silence it. So I just sat there and waited for the key fob in Chris’s pocket to return.
Tuesday night, everyone is tired after a busy day and we retire early. I wanted to unwind a little and watch TV. I went downstairs to get my Bose earbuds to connect to “The Behemoth” so I don’t disturb anyone and to my surprise when I open the case it is empty.
My thoughts start racing. When did have have them last… Sunday, on a flight home from Salt Lake City? I am sure I put them back in the case, I have been very careful with them. As I search my memories (a difficult task these days), I wonder if I could have left them on my tray, did I put them in my pocket and did they go through the washer and dryer?
The search begins. I checked all my pockets, the washer, the dryer, my makeup bag, my suitcase, my purse… then I remembered my purse falling out of the car, and earbud case was one of the things on the ground. Could they have popped out of the case when it hit the ground? Yes, I’m thinking so.
I am so disappointed, three months, all that money and they’re gone. I looked them up online and not only are they just expensive, they are now $30 more. I’m told myself that is too much money and I don’t need another set. As I said before it took me a year to convince myself I deserve the first pair.
I wondered, did someone pick them up? Could they use them? Are they connect somehow to my account?
When I thought about how my purse fell and how I had looked around, I thought, possibly, they might have bounced forward and are still there. Maybe near the front of the parking spot?
Chris told me he did not think there was any possibility they would still be there, and if they are, they have been run over by cars going in and out of the parking spot. Regardless, on Thursday (three days later), I have to take Chris back to the airport. I know exactly where I parked, 4H12, because I had to tell him where to find me on Monday night. I’m thinking, even if I find them destroyed, at least I won’t be looking for them any longer because I’m not 100% sure about what happened to them.
On Thursday, we enter the parking garage and head up to level 4. We drove down aisle G, turn the corner and head up the H aisle. As we approach spot 12, I see a white object under the back of the car park in space 11! I am so excited I shouted, “I see one! Stop the car!”
I jumped out and sure enough there is an unblemished white earbud in the center of the spot about 3 feet under the car. I got down on the ground, reached under the car and grabbed it. Then I looked up. The first thing I see is the other earbud in the same position in spot 10!
I crawl over and retrieve that one as well. I started jumping up and down with joy and danced all the way back to the car. Chris said he had not seen me so happy in a long time.
It was so crazy, I hardly could believe it but I realize that even in the small insignificant things, I am blessed.
I am going to rate the best job I ever had by the lasting friendships that have remained from it. Not counting the current job I have had for 32 years, the best job I ever had was at Dateline Technology in Bellevue, WA in 1984 when I moved to Washington.
Other than the one day I worked as a temp and left crying at lunch, Dateline was my first job here. It was a technology company that sold and installed Prime and Wang data storage systems. It was owned by two ex-Prime Computer employees. One had been an engineer and the other a marketing manager, Joe and Jack.
When I started there, other than Joe and Jack, there were five other guys, they were technicians and installers. Seven guys and me. Although I was only 28 years old, I was affectionately referred to as the “den mother.”
It was a growing business and in just a few years there were over twenty of us. Joe and Jack made Dateline a fun and challenging place to work. In a few short years they made record sales and the guys were traveling all over the US installing systems. I was the secretary, girl Friday, and later bookkeeper. I handled all the travel arrangements for the guys in the field and kept in contact with them. Sometimes they head out for two places and end up to going to four other places in several states before they made it back home.
Once we had a holiday party where they celebrated the sales and success of the prior year. After dinner, Joe and Jack played a game of “Price is Right,” employees had guessed total sales for the year, profits and sales projections. The winner in each category was the person whose guess came the closest without going over. Since I was doing bookkeeping by this time, I did not play along. They handed out some really nice prizes to the winners.
The last prize was a simple drawing for a small radio/tv so I could participate. Jack reached in a pulled out a name…it said “Wink Martindale!” One of the sales guys jumped up and began dancing around the room singing the notes to the “Price is Right” theme song. Jack looked around and said, “I don’t know a Wink Martindale.” He drew another name and I won! I still have that little TV at the office and even though it doesn’t work on any system available today, every time I see it, it makes me smile.
At that same party there was a young woman who was our receptionist, Shannon. At one point in the evening we got up and went to the ladies room together. When we came back and sat down there was a moment of dead silence, then all 12 of guys stood up and left the room (supposedly all going to the restroom like women do… together). We sat there and laughed and laughed.
It was a fun place, we were like a family. Sadly as with a lot of successful small businesses, they had growing pains and later conflicts between Joe and Jack on financial issues and the direction for the future. I left there when my old boss, a lobbyist for Sun Oil Co. in Colorado, moved to Washington and offered me a job. Shortly after I left, they sold to a California company. A couple of the guys moved to California to work for this new company, but most found new jobs.
Of the original seven from when I started, I am still in contact with four of them: Jim, Dave, Steve and Terry.
Jim lives in California now; he was like a brother to me and my kids still call him Uncle Jim. Over the years we have visited California and Jim would go with us to Disneyland. He was like a kid and would spend hours on Tom Sawyers Island with Josh.
Dave lived with us for a while after Dateline sold. He was from Massachusetts and he moved back to the East Coast. After moving back he got married a lovely lady named Lynne. We still communicate via Facebook and he sent the kindest note a few years back that made me realize I’m part of something bigger.
The note read: “I spoke to the (church) group about how important the YMCA and the Boy Scouts were to me but to my friend beside me and to Lynne later, I spoke of a person that has made me believe and think of God more than anyone in my life; a person that held out their hand to a young man that moved across country and didn’t have many friends made me feel special and a part of her family. This person opened my eyes to church more than a young Catholic man had seen before and it awoke a desire for more that I am just now understanding and I thank the Lord for you everyday. For many years I could only read stories now I can act and talk my faith. I believe in the power of prayer and my heavenly woman you and Chris have opened your home and your heart to me and I can never repay you for all you have done for me.”
I never imagined.
Steve lives in Joyce, WA on the Olympic Peninsula with his wife Elizabeth. When I was pregnant with Josh, I got a job as an administrative assistant at the company where Elizabeth worked, so I had worked with them both, and they both remain friends.
Terry who was one of the electrical engineers used to live here in the same town in North Bend, and we would see each other occasionally, but he has since retired and moved to Oregon.
I never heard from Jack after I left. He was more my boss than Joe was, and I think he was upset at my leaving and never really forgave me.
I did casually stay in touch with Joe. When JD was born he and his wife came to visit and brought a gift. It was a yellow sweater with little ducks on it that his wife had knitted. Joe sadly died from Lou Gehrig’s disease in 2008. Chris and I had gone to visit him a few years before that, he had lost all movement below his chest but could still speak. He had been a ballroom dancer and visiting him and seeing him this way was hard. Hard visit for us, but I know it was a blessing to him.
In summary, Dateline was the best job while it lasted, just shy of three years, and it created several of the “best friendships” that have lasted for nearly forty.
That’s me in a sales brochure that went out in 1986. I was pretending to be a technician. Jack was trying to emphasize what a progressive company we were employing women in high tech jobs. In truth I did not even know how to turn the thing on and I don’t really think it fooled anyone.
If I could turn back time, travel back to any country and any era and come back completely safe where might I go?
I have given this a lot of thought over the past week and I have to say honestly that every place, every time, that I can think of has its horrors and inconveniences. Even if I could come back safe and unharmed, I don’t know that I would want to carry the burden of the things I might witness. My current lifetime has enough sorrows of its own.
I don’t want to see the horrors of wars, bloody wars, world wars. I don’t want to see slavery, or indentured servitude. People dying from diseases we have, for a time at least, conquered.
No matter how romantic Jane Austen made the 1800’s seem I think it was not so great for the masses. I am accustomed to modern conveniences, I like my hot showers and working plumbing. I don’t know that I would like to see sewage running in the street or cold baths in dirty water.
I can keep going back in time and I am sorry to be a pessimist but I just don’t see anything I want to witness, it was a hard life and hard times for the majority of the people in any age; hardline religious views, cruel and overbearing rulers, unsanitary conditions, food shortages, inadequate protection from the elements, lack of healthcare.
Now, possibly, if given the choice, I would like to see the future. I guess I’ve reached a certain age where I see changes that I think are taking society down a wrong path. I might find it reassuring to know that the choices the generation behind me are taking are ones leading down a road to peace, happiness and a better life for all. I might want to see how my children and grandchildren’s lives turned out. I would love to see them happy and know they enjoy the beauty around them, the blue sky, the wildflowers, the warm sun and cool breezes.
However, that is not the choice. So, if I could go back, take me to the Garden of Eden. Especially if it is on a beach, with coconuts, fruits and flowers and lush gardens, and make it near a warm place with gentle breezes — no winter, no snow please. Let it rain warm showers, followed by sunshine, so that I can nap under the shade of a large oak tree with the soft sounds of a waterfall in the background. Everyday would have glorious golden sunrises and fiery red sunsets, it would be a paradise. Finally and ideally, there would be no wild beasts to attack, but sadly as we all know there would still be serpents… I am not fond of snakes and we all know the one in the Garden of Eden is one that caused all the other stuff I don’t want to see since the beginning of time.
Not Eden but maybe close. Butchart Gardens, Victoria, BC, 2016
Music… I grew up deep, deep in the heart of Texas. Until I was 14 the only music I heard was gospel music and country. Not modern country but old country Jim Reeves, Marty Robbins, Tex Ritter, Johnny Cash, Tammy and George and Loretta.
There was no other music and rock and roll was the devils music. When I got married and left home and eventually Texas a whole new world opened up but I never strayed far. The first song I remember that wasn’t country was “Love Grows Where my Rosemary Goes,” by Edison Lighthouse. Funny because I heard it just the other day and I instantly flashed back to 1970 in Houston, Texas riding in a 1962 red Ford Thunderbird, windows down and radio blaring. I was free, pregnant and the world was my oyster.
In the 70’s, I treasured a lot of early 70’s pop rock and maybe I got into a little old time rock and roll from the 60’s but never got into anything much crazier. A lot of those songs take me back to Florida, sunshine and palm trees. It was a great life.
After Florida I moved to Alaska, had another child and now at 18, I was discovering more about myself. A neighbor gave me the John Denver album, Windsong, and she told me the song “Looking for Space,” reminded her of me and where I was in life. I loved it and it is still a song about me. That album was the beginning of a love for John and his music.
I migrated from there to other folk artists, Jim Croce, Gordon Lightfoot, Eddie Rabbit, Elvis, James Taylor, Kris Kristofferson, Simon and Garfunkel and Willie Nelson. I still like old country and some newer stuff but ballads and folk are still my style. I am pretty simple and boring. On my phone I have favorites from almost all of these artist mixed in with a little Fleetwood Mac, John Lennon, 60’s rock and roll, folk music and lots of worship music.
My favorite rotates depending on my mood. Last week when I was mowing the lawn, I replayed Joni Mitchell’s, “The Circle Game” by Tom Rush over and over again. Listening to it made me think of Josh and how he was so full of life and filled with inspiring dreams and about how quickly time passes. It was a melancholy afternoon.
So back to my first favorite, the song that I still relate to, “Looking for Space“…
On the road of experience I’m trying to find my own way Sometimes I wish that I could fly away When I think that I’m moving Suddenly things stand still I’m afraid ‘cause I think they always will
And I’m looking for space And to find out who I am And I’m looking to know and understand It’s a sweet, sweet dream Sometimes I’m almost there Sometimes I fly like an eagle And sometimes I’m deep in despair
All alone in the universe Sometimes that’s how it seems I get lost in the sadness and the screams Then I look in the center Suddenly everything’s clear I find myself in the sunshine and my dreams
And I’m looking for space And to find out who I am And I’m looking to know and understand It’s a sweet, sweet dream Sometimes I’m almost there Sometimes I fly like an eagle And sometimes I’m deep in despair
On the road of experience Join in the living day If there’s an answer It’s just that it’s just that way When you’re looking for space And to find out who you are When you’re looking to try and reach the stars
It’s a sweet, sweet, sweet dream Sometimes I’m almost there Sometimes I fly like an eagle And sometimes I’m deep in despair Sometimes I fly like an eagle Like an eagle I go flying… High
I’ve been thinking all week about my Mother and also today on what would be her 90th birthday.
I reminisced about her last few weeks and the time Paulette and I spent with her.
Eight months before she passed away, she had an arterial blockage. At the time, I was gently encouraged to keep her comfortable and let her go peacefully but I could not face that.
Although her dementia took away a lot of her memories, she was still engaging and she could be so funny and brought joy to others. So I pushed for surgery, which was technically successful, it restored the blood flow but she never walked again. With Covid fears and restrictions still in full swing she declined rapidly.
Perhaps I shouldn’t have approved the surgery, before that she seemed to have lots to give in life. Either way, it was a no-win situation. Had I let her go then, I think I would have still gone through a period of guilt. I am sorry she had to suffer.
It comes down to the final verse in this Wm Randolph Hearst poem ~’The River’
“So don’t ask why – We live or die, Or whither, or when we go, Or wonder about the mysteries That only God may know”
I love this picture of my Mother. It was taken two months after the surgery. I had given her the pearls my auntie sent her and she let me braid her hair. We spent the afternoon singing hymns 💕 It was hard to leave that day, but it was a day I will always cherish.
When I was in my teens and twenties I honestly thought I would die young but since I will be 68 this year, my mind has changed and I don’t believe that any longer! That belief came from the fact that I experienced so much before I was even “of age” and I felt that because I was moving through life in the fast lane, I would reach my end sooner.
However, in all seriousness, another thing I have changed my mind about is whether or not – Life Is Fair – or that we can make it fair and equal for everyone. Not to say we should not help others, but overall we cannot not change what hardships, through fate, are going to enter someone’s life.
I wrote a blog about this a few years back, and it seems we can give people things that make life seem more equitable, but there are unexpected things in life that happen for which we have no control.
A person can do everything that’s righteous and upstanding, they can help others and yet life seems to hand them one cruel blow after another. Contrasting that, it seems there are those who are wicked and unjust who breeze through life, taking advantage of the poor and weak and they seem apparently blessed with good fortune.
We, as humans, can try to level the playing field but it is God who is in control of our lives and although we may not understand, we are instructed to not lean on our own understanding. (Proverbs 3:4-5) and reminded that our ways and thoughts are not His ways and thoughts. (Isaiah 55:9).
So more than having changed my mind about life and fairness, I am learning to accept that life is is good, no matter what the circumstances. Whatever hardships I face, are mine to face. In the same way others have their own hardships and lessons to face on their journey through life. May each of each find the courage to see us through.
I started traveling at a young age. I was only six months old when my mother and the family moved from Virginia to Texas. I’m sure it was a road trip because airline travel was expensive back then and they were a family of five.
In Texas I stayed for many years until I was a young teenager. From there I traveled to Florida with my 3 month old son, Adam, and his dad who was going to be stationed at MacDill Air Force Base in Tampa.
I remember that trip well. We followed the coast of Louisiana, Mississippi, Alabama and along the coast of the Florida panhandle then south down the west gulf coast with only a paper map as a guide No A/C, no cell phone, no credit cards, only a small amount of cash in a very old blue Chevy pickup truck. With the windows down and hopes high, we hit the road. It was exciting to see all the small coastal towns with fishing boats lined up at the docks flanked by the gorgeous views of the gulf. It was 1971 and we had no car seat or baby carrier, Adam just laid on the bench seat between us. Life seemed pretty simple, nothing to fear (or should I say we feared nothing), excited to see what life would bring.
At the time my mother lived in Bradenton, Florida and we drove there before my husband reported to McDill. As we neared our destination, we approached the Lower Tampa Bay and were met a by a very long bridge that connected the land on the north to the land on the southern side. It was called the Sunshine Skyway Bridge. It was 15 miles end to end. We traveled several miles just above the water on a low level causeway when ahead on the horizon appears steep high span. It seemed like it was a mile straight up into the sky although it was only 150 ft above the water. I was terrified; it felt like we were driving to the highest peak on a roller coaster not knowing what was on the other side. I wanted to turn around but there was no going back. When we reached the top of the span, the road surface was made of only metal grates and you could look down to the water far, far below. Over the next 3 years I dreaded every time we had to cross that bridge and I never got accustom to crossing it.
The original bridge was built in 1954 and in 1980 after I had left Florida, a freighter hit one of the support columns of the bridge and caused it to collapse. Several cars and even a greyhound bus plunged into the water. Thirty-four people died as a result of the collapse. How horrifying.
We made the trip between Florida and Texas by car several times, the last time I crossed that bridge was in December 1973, on my way to Alaska via the Alcan Highway. That was another exciting journey, but a story for another day.
Strangely enough, although I love to write, I am not much of a reader. I can read articles and short stories easily enough and I am a good researcher, but reading a big book cover to cover… I find difficult.
When I try to read my mind gets lost in my own thoughts and wanderings. I find myself having to go back and reread pages, even chapters of the books. I have a hard time remembering characters and have to search back through the pages to find who they are and what they have done.
When I was nine, my Aunt Barbara gave me the book “Little Women.” It was a children’s book but possibly 100 pages. I started that book so many times and never finished. I would get lost in the illustrations of the beautiful March girls and I would trace over them and then color them myself.
I think I was an adult before I ever finished that book. I recently gave it to my cousin, Beth. I received it the year she was born and my Aunt Barbara had written a note inside to me and dated it, Christmas 1964. When I gave it to her it had been taped together and the deep marks where I had traced the pictures were still evident. It had traveled the world with me for 54 years.
In 2003, I saw an interview with Mitch Albom, author of “Tuesdays with Morrie,” about his latest book, “The Five People You Meet in Heaven.” It was 196 pages and I figured I could conquer that. In short, I loved this book.
It was about a man, Eddie, who had a series of tragedies in his life, from war to love loss and lived with a handicap. He was the maintenance man at an amusement park and felt he lived a mundane life and really had no purpose to his life.
Eddie dies suddenly in an accident and finds himself not in heaven, but in a place where his life is explained by five people he encountered in his lifetime. Each one relays their experience with him. Some stories bring sorrow and others moments of joy.
In the end, the stories explain his purpose in life and why he was here. The experience answered many of the unanswered questions we all have in life. In ways we do not even know, our lives impact others and we are all connected in ways we do not even understand.
I read this book several times. I bought copies of it and gave it to people. There was a time I would carry it on trips and read it on the plane…it was my travel book.
I have bought several books by Mitch Albom that followed, but never connected as I did with this one. The latest one was “The Stranger in the Lifeboat,” and I still need to read again. Even after giving it to my friend, Sho, to read and having her explain the intricacies; I still do not fully grasp the players and the meaning in the end. Comprehension is not my strong point I guess.
I have read other books but I would say one a year at the max. Finally, it goes without saying I read from my Bible every day. It gives me hope and strength when I need guidance but there are many things there I cannot comprehend as well. I am praying for the day I meet up with the Lord in Heaven and he explains the meaning of it all.
The one on the left is a copy I bought off of eBay and gave to a friend with daughters, the right was mine from 1964. I recently gave it to my cousin as it was given to me by her mom the year she was born.
So much drama! I read the news, I look around me and it seems the drama is never ending and I want it to stop. It is exasperating. Yet, I wonder if the generation before me felt the same? I definitely had some strange ideas and beliefs when I was young.
Not only did I have some strange ideas, I also did some foolish things. There are things I would really like to forget, but they serve a purpose to remind me about how far I’ve come and what I have learned along the way.
This morning, I came across this poem I wrote in 2016. After reading it, I have some hope that one day, just as I did, these drama creators will look back and realize it was only a lot of drama.
Many warm wishes to all fathers out there today, especially to my sweet Chrissie. I wrote this ten years ago after our son had a health crisis and was in the hospital for over nine weeks. Chris was then and still is our rock, provider, and hero.
The midnight report, Sunday June 16, 2013
A pretty good weekend all in all.
Slowly removing IV medications as J is eating a little more. Thus far it seems PBJ’s are the food of choice, but hey whatever works. Dr. Menan says it takes a while to release old food phobias.
Taken several successful walks around the ward. Saturday and Sunday.
The incision is looking better, the fever is down as is the WBC.
I was able to get to the office on Saturday and pay the past due taxes and straighten out the payroll situation. Much love to Sho who chauffeured me again.
Becky brought homemade peanut butter cookies. Along with PBJ’s, a favorite at the moment.
Chris spent the weekend with [J]; talk about an awesome father. He has been the rock of strength on which we have all been leaning on. During this entire ordeal he, in addition to spending hours with us here and keeping up with his busy work schedule, he has driven around town feeding [J]’s fish, checking in at his office, picking up mail, even trepidatiously going to the data center to restart or service servers.
On this Father’s Day he came in with coffee and said the cafeteria lady told him his coffee was free if he had a picture of his son. He broke down in tears when he told me he showed her the one of him walking in the hall yesterday.
Nothing says I love you from your Father like emptying the urinal and holding you up as you walk.
Latest projections are that “maybe” if all progresses as planned, [J] could be released on Wednesday!! That’s my hope and prayer and from then on he improves by leaps and bounds each day.
Hope all you fathers out there had the opportunity to receive and give some love from your kids today. Hold them close and cherish each moment because as I posted on April 16, this quote from Lee Cowan a CBS reporter, “But they do remind us we don’t get to set life’s clock.While we may think we’ll have a tomorrow to say all the things we want to say, or should have said, what this week proved is that sometimes, that tomorrow doesn’t come — and the things left unsaid could end up one of our greatest regrets. “
Little did I know then the challenge that was to lie ahead in just a few short weeks. Thank you all for all your love, support and prayers. I cherish each and every visit, phone call, card and texts and encouraging word I/we have received. ❤
Grandparents: the father or mother of a person’s father or mother. Like everyone else I had four, but saw only one more than once in my childhood, that one was my maternal grandfather who lived In Houston near where I grew up. My maternal grandmother and my paternal grandparents lived in Virginia.
My paternal grandfather, Aubrey Allen, died when I was 10. The last time I was with him I was six months old just before my mother moved back to Texas. My auntie tells me he was a kind and loving man who struggled later in life with debilitating illnesses. My paternal grandmother, Alease, told me many times that the day we left Virginia he held me and cried saying, “They are taking my baby away and I am never going to see her again.”
I left Virginia as an infant, I did not return until I was 27. My Grandmother Alease, as well as my Aunt Thelma, stayed in touch with my mother throughout my childhood but my first memory of her was in 1968 when my brother graduated from high school and she came for a visit. She was 60 years old, eight years younger than I am now… funny how she seemed older.
Alease Virginia – 1983 – Age: 75
After that visit, I saw her once five years later when I lived in Florida and she came for a visit. We corresponded frequently but it was another 9 years in 1982, when she was 74, before we saw each other again. That year I visited Virginia for the first time since 1956 when my mother took me to Texas.
That visit became the beginning of building a relationship and making up for lost time. I visited often after that, every couple of years. She loved me unconditionally and loved to tell me about the past. Even after all the years since leaving Virginia, she would tell me every visit with teary eyes, about Aubrey’s emotional goodbye.
In all the years I visited her, we would spend hours looking at photographs, talking about the past, sitting next to each other and just holding hands. She had some of the most amusing colloquialisms many of which I wrote down, so as never to forget. Saying like, “She ain’t got enough sense to pour piss out of a boot.” or “You can’t run the roads and keep house.”
She was resourceful and made good use of her time. Well into her 90’s she crocheted lap blankets for the “old folks” in the nursing home. She also crocheted dish cloths from cotton string yard. I still have several unused ones in my kitchen drawer. Saving them because —- I don’t want to forget.
My Grandma Alease passed away in 2006, at the age of 98. God gave us many years to catch up. Often, when I spoke to her phone in the 25 years before she passed, she would end the conversation by saying, “I just pray to God I can see you one more time before I die.” It became almost comical because I would go for a visit, and I wouldn’t be home more than a week, and when I spoke to her, she would say it again!
I went to Virginia the week before she died, and I spent time with her while she was in the hospital. The day I left, they moved her back to the nursing home under hospice care. Sometimes she was in and out of reality but when I lean down to kiss her goodbye she looked at me and said, “Hope I see you one more time.”
She passed into glory on April 12, 2006 on the first night of Passover the Wednesday before Easter. I flew back to Virginia to say my last goodbye. I know it is not the end because I will see her one more time, one time that will last for eternity.
Happy according to the Britannica Dictionary means “feeling pleasure and enjoyment because of your life, situation.” Focusing on the feeling pleasure and enjoyment because of my life, I find happiness in the simple things.
It makes me happy to see my three sons happy and successful. My heart leaps when they call or text just to say, “I love you mom.”
I enjoy sharing an evening with close friends. For many years we had an annual dinner with friends and associates from the tunneling industry. These evenings always brought joy to my heart. Chris and I were the youngsters of this group and we to took pleasure in hearing their tales of the past and soaking in the wisdom they shared on marriage, family and friendship.
Chris and I both find it makes our hearts happy when we are able to help others. Sometimes it doesn’t always work out, but as the work of Dr. Kent Keith said, “…in the final analysis it is between you and God; it was never between you and them anyway..” Who cannot be happy when you are pleasing God?
In the even simpler things in life I find joy: it makes me happy to look at the lawn and smell the freshly cut grass after it is mowed, to see a bee digging for pollen in a flower, to see the hummingbird come to my window, to hear a baby’s laugh, to watch puppies and kittens play and to view fabulous sunrises and sunsets, or see a rainbow stretch across the valley.
In all of these things I find joy and happiness.
The ringtone on my phone for many many years has been the melody to Bobby McFerrin’s “Don’t Worry Be Happy” and makes me happy every time I hear it.
The question was posed, “If you had to go back in time and start a brand new career, what would it be?” Well, I would have to have had a career to begin with to start a “brand new” one. According to my Social Security record I have worked every year since 1972 except three. One was in 1974 when I was pregnant with AKA and moved to Alaska; and in 1991 and 1992 when Chris started SubTerra. I actually worked those two years, I just didn’t get paid!
I wouldn’t call anything I’ve done a career. I am just a worker bee. When I was young I was a very good student but I was much too timid and withdrawn and had no ambition to do or be anything. I know this sounds uninspiring but it is the truth.
As I got a little older and especially after I moved to Alaska, I became an ardent “people watcher.” I was often lonely and felt isolated thousands of miles from the rest of the US. Many nights I would go to the Anchorage airport and watch travelers come and go. I loved seeing the excitement and love people shared when they greeted each other or the emotional goodbyes as they parted.
In the early 80’s after I got my GED, I attended a local community college for a while and I was interested in knowing more about what made people “tick.” So at that time, and many times since then, I felt I might have been a good psychologist. I think I am a good listener and several times in my life I have met people that share some of the most personal things with me. Often these were strangers or people I just had met. Sometimes I wondered if there was something about my face that said, “I am a good listener!”
Anyway there it is… a Shrink.
In 1987 Chris and I had some discussion about careers and jobs, and although I do not remember exactly what brought about the discussion, the next day I wrote him a note about my feeling on the whole matter. My thoughts are below and my views are pretty much the same.
“I may not have a ‘career’ in the eyes of the world; but I feel my life has touched others in a positive way. I don’t have the need to prove myself to the entire world to show my life has value.
My goals and aspirations were sacrificed because of poor choices which I made while I was still a child. I believe I was given an above average intelligence by my Maker and I have benefited from it many times. I have nothing to boast about for my mothering; I’ve made many errors which I often wish I could change. I don’t want to look at what I could have been, but at who I am now; I am thankful for the life God has given me.
If my role in life from the world’s point-of-view is that of a ‘peon,’ then I am even more amazed at the wonders of God. My life may not change history, but if I try every day to live it and help others I know God will remember me when my life is over. This world offers no rewards…careers in this world are only temporary…I want to spend the rest of my life working at a career which would exemplify Christ’s life. My failure at a worldly career is of no consequence to me; my career success is yet to be determined.”
I would, without a doubt, classify myself as an introvert living with an extrovert. I know several of my friends are surprised to here me say this because when I am comfortable with a small groups of friends, I do not appear that way but put me in a room with a group of people I do not know and I struggle to not be a wall flower.
When I was younger one might say I was timid. I would not even to walk up to a cashier and pay for an item. I lacked confidence and always felt self-conscious. I was raised to be seen and not heard and I have carried that with me most of my life. As the old saying goes, “Better to remain silent and be thought a fool than to speak up and remove all doubt.”
Chris on the other hand is all Mr. Personality. He can join in with any group of people and feel right at home and additionally he is engaging and enchanting. A few years ago he ran a half marathon to raise money for the Crohns and Colitis Foundation. He had been training for three months and got to know his team very well. I went with him to the event in NAPA. There was an evening gathering where the team met over drinks and shared their IBD stories. I was an observer, I never said anything except maybe privately to Chris. The next morning we went to breakfast with three others. I was talking with one of the ladies when another lady looked at me and said, “Oh she speaks.”
It really hurt my feelings and did nothing to encourage me to continue speaking, but I get it, people think we are anti-social or snobs, but it is not true. I read this once about introverts. “They are not antisocial, they just listening and observing. They can’t stand small talk but can talk for hours about life. They would rather be a home with a close friend than in a big crowd of acquaintances. Please don’t scold or embarrass them in public. Respect the fact that they are reserved and if they do open themselves up to you, know that it means you are very special to them. “ Unknown
As well as being an introvert, I would say I’m an anti-confrontational person. However, there have been times that I have been forced out of my shell to speak out and speak up, mostly for an injustice. These events might leave some invigorated and feeling free. They leave me drained and sad.
Susan Cain, the author of “Quiet Power: The Secret Strengths of Introverts.”
“Introverts, in contrast, may have strong social skills and enjoy parties and business meetings, but after a while wish they were home in their pajamas. They prefer to devote their social energies to close friends, colleagues, and family. They listen more than they talk, think before they speak, and often feel as if they express themselves better in writing than in conversation. They tend to dislike conflict. Many have a horror of small talk, but enjoy deep discussions.”
This may explain why I share so much on my blog that I would never voice to others. I am happy being who I am.
Someone asked me yesterday why I don’t celebrate Easter. When I was young and attended the Baptist church it was celebrated as the resurrection of Jesus but we also dyed and hid eggs. At Easter I would also get a new dress, shiney new white patent shoes, and sometimes a straw hat, Then when my children were little, we dyed and hid eggs and did those easter bunny things. That tradition as faded away as they grew older and their childhood faded too.
About 20 years ago, I began to attending a Messianic congregation and learned the significance of Passover as related to the death and resurrection. There they celebrated Resurrection Sunday. Which is the Sunday following Passover which interestingly enough falls in the same week this year.
Like Christmas, I feel Easter is a man-created day of celebration. In addition, the dates were set to closely following the winter solstice and spring equinox days which some believe where chosen satisfy the pagan beliefs as a substitute for their holidays they had celebrated at the same time.
The date for Easter was established by the Nicene Counsel in 325 AD. It is has no connection with the biblical time frame of the resurrection, i.e., Messiah held the last supper at a meal around the Passover time and he was represented as the sacrifice to redeem us from sin and bondage by his blood — just as a lamb was sacrificed and its blood placed on the doorpost to save the first born of the Hebrew people from death as the angel of death passed over their houses that were marked with the “blood of the lamb.”
See reference from Britannica below;
“Fixing the date on which the Resurrection of Jesus was to be observed and celebrated triggered a major controversy in early in which an Eastern and a Western position can be distinguished. The dispute, known as the Paschal controversies, was not definitively resolved until the 8th century. In Asia Minor, Christians observed the day of the Crucifixion on the same day that Jews celebrated the Passover offering—that is, on the 14th day of the first full moon of spring, 14 Nisan (see Jewish calendar). The Resurrection, then, was observed two days later, on 16 Nisan, regardless of the day of the week. In the West the Resurrection of Jesus was celebrated on the first day of the week, Sunday, when Jesus had risen from the dead. Consequently, Easter was always celebrated on the first Sunday after the 14th day of the month of Nisan. Increasingly, the churches opted for the Sunday celebration, and the Quartodecimans (“14th day” proponents) remained a minority. The Council of Nicaea in 325 decreed that Easter should be observed on the first Sunday following the first full moonafter the spring equinox (March 21). Easter, therefore, can fall on any Sunday between March 22 and April 25.”
So in the end, I celebrate nothing religious on days that were designated by men. It is just my own personal thing. I don’t judge or criticize or place any significance to anyone who revers this holiday or Christmas. It is my own personal conviction and belief.
There is more but I won’t jump down that bunny trail. So Happy Resurrection Day and however we celebrate or recognize it, we should do it with a sincere and thankful heart.
I think I have reached a point where nothing in life surprises me anymore, not even the extent of evil that exists in the world. Everyday I hear of a heinous crime and think there can be nothing more evil and yet it seems there is always something more. It is beyond shock and disbelief it now just brings sorrow and sadness.
With all the evil and trials that people face I believe an even greater surprise is the human spirit’s drive to go on. Some people have endured terrible losses, illness and tragic events and yet they find a way to go on and live productive lives and others seem to lose hope and fall into a deep abyss from which they cannot climb out.
These two opposing responses to life and its trials perplex me. Is it a conscious and continuing decision by those who overcome? Is this drive to overcome something we all have? Are these somehow stronger than others or do they rely on a higher power?
In my own life I have seen friends and family lose hope, they bury themselves in drugs and alcohol, they fall into deep depression and several have sadly taken their own lives. When I look back on my life, I see moments, periods of time, when I felt all hope was lost but I persevered. I have a notebook from the early 80’s in which I copied entire chapters from the book of Psalms. David often cried out to God about evil doers, injustice, heartaches and pain but he knew as I do…“And now, O Lord, for what do I wait? My hope is in you” Psalm 39:7
I have watched people that I thought were the strong and who had the most potential to be successful in life, succumb to defeat. One of life’s greatest blessings and it should be no surprise, is that I, meek, introverted, abused, uneducated have prevailed but, not I, but God with me. “Fear not, for I am with you; be not dismayed, for I am your God; I will strengthen you, I will help you, I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.” Isaiah 41:10
“Truly my soul finds rest in God; my salvation comes from him. Truly he is my rock and my salvation; he is my fortress, I will never be shaken.” Psalm 62:1-2
As I wrote about “Life’s Surprises” I realized today is Passover. Examining my thoughts and one’s ability to persevere in hardship and not lose hope, I realized it is the story of Passover, the story of the Jewish people. Freed from 400 years of slavery, seeing God’s hand in their redemption and even though their hope faded at times they never lost hope. Since then they have been exiled, they endured the pogroms, they’ve been massacred and expelled from their homes and most horrifically six millions Jews were murdered in the Holocaust. Today, nearly 3500 years since the exodus from Egypt, the decedents of those that were freed are still facing hardship, trails, and persecution. Even through all these horrors, they are a people with hope, a people that are blessed with ingenuity and whose talents have blessed many the world over.
The Jewish National Anthem relays this hope. It is titled HaTikvah (“The Hope”)
As long as the Jewish spirit is yearning deep in the heart, With eyes turned toward the East, looking toward Zion, Then our hope -‐ the two-‐thousand-‐year-‐old hope -‐ will not be lost: To be a free people in our land, The land of Zion and Jerusalem.
What is your middle name? Does it carry any special meaning/significance?
My middle name is Gene. Named after my father Eugene. Odd name for a girl but there are others, Gene Tierney an actress from the 1940’s.
I never knew my father. My mother left him when I was just a baby. He was an alcoholic and he abuse and beat her regularly.
Therefore all my life I have been saddled with this name of a person who did nothing more than contribute his DNA. Just before covid I had completed paperwork to change my middle name as it was nearing the time to renew my passport. However, I wanted to keep the same initial. I tested many “G” names, I liked Grace but there was already a Grace in the family. I thought of just adding a ‘T’ to the end to make Genet’ — very French sounding or just be plain ‘G’ like the agent on NCIS Los Angeles. My husband was very fond of Genevieve or Guinevere being the Englishman that he is.
Then covid came and the courts narrowed the hours and places you could request a name change and I never got around to getting it done. I sent in my passport renewal last week. So for at least the next ten years – I will be just plain Gene.
Emyloom ~ Words Woven Within My Heart 