Posts Categorized: Patience


All my growing up years, there was a cedar chest at the end of Mother and Daddy’s bed. I would show you a photo from those years, but astonishingly, there isn’t one. I’ve looked at all the pictures in my album, in my parents’ album, and I’ve asked JoAnne. It’s hard to imagine that a piece of furniture that was in our lives for about sixty-nine years doesn’t show up anywhere, but I can’t find it. Not a corner, not the top, a side, nothing.

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Habit? Schmabit!

Quite a few years ago, in articles in self-help magazines and books about changing your life and being more organized and getting things done, one recurring piece of advice about establishing new habits said that your could entrench new habits by doing the new habit activity for 21 days in a row.

If you do the things you want to institute as a habit (walking on the treadmill, eating a good breakfast every morning, going to bed at an appropriate hour to ensure you’ll get a good night’s sleep, etc.) for 21 days in a row, then you will have established a wonderful new habit in your life! That’s what the magazine articles said.

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Sometimes We Think We See What We Just Want to See

Summer 1964-when we were in town

Summer 1964-when we were in town (a Wikipedia photo)

My sister and I remember traveling, on a summer trip to my dad’s childhood home in Wauseon, Ohio, and going through St. Louis, where the famous Arch was under construction. Actually, we recall the visit for a more compelling reason. Our car was broken into.

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Patience in the Face of a Smirk

When Kevin was a senior at TCU, he needed one more literature credit. He and a friend, Thomas, both chose a Science Fiction class to take. Their professor was interesting and likable. Thomas, who was from California, came home with Kevin for Thanksgiving that year. On the way from Fort Worth to Waco, they read aloud to each other from a book that was assigned for the class.

They kept on reading at our house, and I asked whatever WAS it that they were reading. Kevin showed me the book:  Zombies of the Gene Pool. Really.

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As many adult children do, my own sons have personal belongings stored at my house. I found it impossible to refuse, because my own mother stored stuff for me, way into my adulthood. Actually, there’s a barrel in my garage right now, of scrapbooks I made, growing up, along with a similar barrel filled with JoAnne’s scrapbooks.

Many years ago, Daddy created extra storage above the garage doors. That’s where the boys’ boxes are. It’s mostly Star Wars stuff. Jeremy also had a number of projects from the many art classes he had to take on the way to a Graphic Design degree. After we’d been in this house for a year or so, Jeremy came. He pulled down all the boxes that were labelled “Jeremy” and went through them.  He organized things, like his school yearbooks, and enjoyed spending some time with his old friends Luke Skywalker, Han Solo, et al. As he was replacing items and organizing and evaluating, he suddenly looked around and said, “Where are my LEGOs? Are my LEGOs here? In the house?”

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Look What I Found on My Front Porch!

I’ve gotten in to the unfortunate habit, lately, of waiting until Thursday afternoon, or evening, to write up a new post. I’ll have had an idea and been thinking about it for a few days, but I haven’t put fingertips to keyboard until late. Then, I end up not getting to bed until 1:00 a.m. or later, because I write it, and I edit it, and I need photos and search for them, and then have to scan them and get them put in where I want them, and then edit again because I always miss something, and then send it off to Kevin to look at, but by then he’s gone to bed and won’t read it until morning, and I MUST STOP DOING THAT!!! It is not a good professional practice.

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Happy Anniversary to Me!


One year ago tomorrow, I wrote a Facebook post announcing my blog. It’s my one year anniversary! I said I would write new posts each week and put them up on Fridays. And I did.  At the beginning, four posts were already up, for Jeremy to work with as he got the website ready. So, if you visited the website that very first Friday, it had more than one lonely post that you could read.

This is a screen shot of the database-all full!

This is a screen shot of the database-all full!

I’ve made a database, to track the posts and what Bible verses I reference and which fruit of the Spirit I use. The program will only hold 54 entries, so it’s full and won’t let me add any more. I had to start a new one, for Year Two (plus the last two posts from the first year).



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It. Was. Not. My. Fault.


I’ve been doing this blog thing for eight months now, and I still make mistakes. I still have to call Kevin and/or Jeremy for help when things go amiss. But last week’s debacle was. not. my. fault. Truly. It wasn’t.

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WHAT Were They THINKING!?! No, Really. I Don’t Know What They Were Thinking.

When Jeremy was a little, bitty baby, he was a pretty sober guy. My mother tried tirelessly to make him smile, but he was stingy with those smiles. One Sunday, after we had lunched together, she was determined to get some grins from him. I held him in my lap, and she made funny faces and silly noises, wiggled her fingers and waved her hands, and became more and more frenzied in an attempt to get some sort of reaction from him. Nothing. Just calm, serene stares. The rest of us were quite amused at her antics. But not the baby. What was he thinking? Maybe, Well, this is interesting. Or, Gee, this is unusual. Or,  possibly, I’d like to take a nap now, and this isn’t helping.


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