Posts Categorized: Kindness

A Serendipity

Several years ago, my sister and I determined that, based on our behavior, the thing we most feared in all of life was getting stuck somewhere with nothing to read. In doctor’s offices, in carpool lines, while waiting for various appointments, we have stashed in our purses, the car pockets, inside jackets, coats and sweaters, a variety of books, magazines, and/or newspapers.

Modern audio options; well, the way things are improving and changing, they may be old and no made any more in a couple of years (or months)

Modern audio options; well, the way things are improving and changing, they may be old and obsolete in a couple of years (or months)

I still feel that way; but things are so much easier now. I’ve got books on my phone’s Kindle app. No more lugging a whole book with me to doctors’ offices. (And no more relying on outdated or boring magazines there.) When I’m driving, whether in town or on the highway, I’m often listening. The library has Playaways, little audio book players that are smaller than my phone. I put in a AAA battery and ear buds, and I’m good for several hours. I can import audio disks to my computer, transfer them to the phone, and listen to a good book while I’m working in the yard or doing housework.

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What Shall It Be Today? The Silver Hoops? The Silver Rings? The Silver Leaves? The *Other* Silver Hoops?

I used to accessorize more, back when I was a reader of Seventeen magazine. I had different kinds of necklaces and pins and bracelets, and I carefully chose my earrings each day. I had scarves and knew how to wear them, I guess.

These days, I admire other ladies’ necklaces and bracelets, and, really, does anybody go out without a cute/charming/toasty/colorful scarf these days? At least besides me?

I don’t remember when I stopped being accessorized. I guess it just became more trouble that I was willing to give. And thank goodness ladies aren’t expected to wear hats and gloves to church any more!

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Post #30. In Which I Learn a Lesson

 

I know, dear reader, that you’re feeling sorry for my sad little life, where I apparently spend all my time at the grocery store, and sometimes it seems like that to me, too. But, that’s where so many interesting things happen.

Saturday morning, I decided to go grocery shopping. The milk was going to expire on Sunday, and that really cold weather was on the way, and the temps for Sunday and Monday were going to be pretty low, for us at least, and the wind was going to be blowing, which makes even a nice day muuuuch colder than the thermometer says. I ended up not leaving the house until mid-morning, then went by the library to pick up a couple of books, and finally to HEB, where I wondered why ever would people choose to grocery shop on a Saturday morning if they could go some other time. So many folks can only shop on Saturdays, and here I was, in their way, when I could easily have come a different day.

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Oh, No, Honey. Not THOSE Toys

We didn’t have Sunday School for kids last Sunday morning because the bikers were coming. Every year at church, we collect new toys for the Mission Waco Toy Store. Several churches participate, and on Thanksgiving weekend, local bikers (some are members of “Riders of the Son”) ride from church to church and pick up the toys. (They bring a trailer, too, for the toys, which is efficient, but keeps drivers around Waco from being able to see bikers guys and gals roaring around with Barbie dolls and Lego sets tucked under their arms.)

This year, an adult Sunday School class sponsored a time for parents and kids during the Sunday School hour to talk about Advent and giving and about the bikers’ ministry, and then the bikers came. They thundered into the parking lot and the kids got to meet the bikers and get close to those motorcycles (which are turned off at the time), and even sit on a bike. Then the bikers packed up all the toys we had donated, and blasted off to the next church.

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As Usual, Having to Be Hauled into Modern Life

At church on Wednesday evenings, kids have a time for choir and a time to learn about missionaries. I teach the Pre-K and Kindergarten kids at their missions time. A while back, our topic one month was missionary medical teams who were working with a people group living in remote areas, somewhere in southeast Asia, I think. With very few roads in dense forests, the people did all their traveling by river. A trip by road to a physician or clinic would take days, so hardly anyone went to a doctor when they were ill. A medical team worked regularly as missionaries, traveling by boat along a river, visiting various communities, seeing those who were sick, dispensing medication, and immunizing people against common illnesses. We had some photographs, and I was explaining to the kids about the boat.

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I Should Have Sung that Mr. Rogers’ Song about Being Proud of You!

Last May,  when I was at a writer’s conference at Ridgecrest, North Carolina, I visited the Allenstand Craft Shop, in Asheville. I was hoping to find an electrical outlet cover to match a lovely dark green switch plate, with embossed leaves and fronds, that I had purchased there the year before. When I walked into the building, glory be, there was that artisan, right there, displaying her wares.

“I’m so excited to see you here,” I said, explaining my search. She had exactly what I was looking for—the outlet cover (with one rectangular hole, instead of two roundish ones, in just the same dark green), and she wrapped it up for me to buy.

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Hand-crafted switch plate and outlet covers

Then she said, “Here’s how I make them.”

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Taking Photos

In 2008, I went to New York City with my sister and her family. Her son was in charge of the camera. Lest you think this was an opportunity for a child to get some shutterbug experience, Collin was an adult, 24 years old. He took pictures of EVERYTHING.

Collin, the photographer

Collin, the photographer

Natalie sitting in Hans Christian Andersen's lap

Natalie sitting in Hans Christian Andersen’s lap

For example, as we were walking through Central Park, we came upon the statue of Hans Christian Andersen, seated on a bench, with a book on one knee. Collin got out the camera. We sent his 20-year-old sister Natalie to sit on Andersen’s bronze lap, as though listening to him tell one of his tales, maybe “The Ugly Duckling.” ( We aren’t irreverent or inappropriate; the statue is intended to be climbed on.) Collin took several shots of her. She moved away; he kept shooting. There are distance pictures of Hans Christian Andersen, nearby pictures, and an intense close-up of the inside of his nose. The camera filled up with stuff like that.

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