Posts Categorized: Kindness

We Might Should Be Paying More Attention to the Kids

| Joy, Kindness, Love

Peter came to visit a few days, during his Spring Break. A friend at church suggested a play date on Tuesday afternoon, with her own grandson, who was also spring-break visiting. I suggested a neighborhood park close to our house. There’s a large oval track and a few playground structures with slides and climbing structures.

A few families were there and kids were running and climbing and playing. Our two boys joined in.

There are also benches, perfect for a couple of grandmothers to sit and chat.

She said that earlier, they’d been to a fast-food restaurant with a nice playground which had been busy, busy while they were there. As families came and went, the playground population ebbed and flowed, and with every change in families, children said good-bye to old-and-new friends and hello to others. And as kids re-grouped, they found ways to work and play together.

“I see that they’re doing that here,” she said. Within an hour, most of the children who’d been at the playground when we arrived had left, being replaced with all new groups. Some kids worked and played together on one of the larger play structures. Others raced from one play structure to another, spending just a few minutes at one space, and then leaping up and streaking off to another one.

And we agreed that they are a far better example of getting along and working together than lots of adults we know.

 

Yesterday, I took Peter back to Fort Worth. His plan was that we would go to Central Market, do a little shopping, and get some lunch (a peanut butter sandwich and a salad) and then he could spend time on their playground. The day was delightful, and that is what we did. At any given moment, there were a dozen or so kids, racing from one apparatus to another, taking turns, planning, working together, and getting along.

 

 

But speaking the truth in love, let us grow in every way into Him who is the head—Christ. From Him the whole body, fitted and knit together by every supporting ligament, promotes the growth of the body for building up itself in love by the proper working of each individual part.

Ephesians 4:15 (Holman Christian Standard Bible)

 

And speaking of growing . . .

 

Breath of Heaven

| Faithfulness, Gentleness, Goodness, Joy, Kindness, Love, Patience, Peace

Two or three times a year, my church publishes a devotional book, for Advent, for Lent/Easter, for support for teams of church members on mission trips, and other occasions. Church members are asked to write devotionals for the booklets, and sometimes I’m asked to write one. This year, for Advent, our assignment was to choose a favorite Christmas carol and a scripture passage, and to write a devotional based on our experience with those things. This is the one I wrote, inspired by the song Breath of Heaven. The song’s title has the link to  Amy Grant’s singing the song.

______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

 

I trust you to save me, Lord God, and I won’t be afraid. My power and my strength come from you, and you have saved me. Isaiah 12:2 (Contemporary English Version)

Breath of Heaven

We have a niece who had a baby about a year and a half ago. While her husband rushed into the hospital’s emergency room to get a wheelchair for her, she gave birth to their third child, a baby boy, in the front seat of their vehicle. Now there’s a birth story.

The birth story Mary has to tell is pretty impressive, too. Well, more impressive, I guess. After all, it is Jesus.

There’s not much detail about Mary, herself, in the Bible. If you go online, there’s lots of information about her, but it’s all pretty much speculation.

I do wonder, though, if Jesus ever said to her, “Please tell me about the night I was born.” It’s not a matter of his not knowing all the facts, but I like to think that he would appreciate hearing her tell the story.

(He listens and responds. As she narrates the tale, she’s also pondering about her own feelings and struggles.)

 

“Oh, Mother! An angel? Were you surprised? Were you scared?”

         Holy father you have come
         And chosen me now to carry your son

“And Aunt Elizabeth, too? Cousin John? Really?”

         Must I walk this path alone?
         Be with me now

“I remember hearing about that census. All the way to Bethlehem. Quite a trip.”

         Lighten my darkness
         Pour over me your holiness

“No place to stay? Then what happened?

         Do you wonder as you watch my face
         If a wiser one should have had my place

“Shepherds came all the way into town? That was a hike!”

         Help me be strong
         Help me be
         Help me

“What was the hardest part for you, Mother?”

         Breath of heaven
         Lighten my darkness
         Pour over me your holiness
         For you are holy
         Breath of heaven

“You are the bravest woman I know, Mother. I am grateful that you were willing to do what you were asked to do.”

 

 

Reflection
You may have heard two people tell the “same” story, but from really different points of view. This holiday season, think about spending time with friends and relatives that you think you know pretty well. Listen to their stories and appreciate how the details may be different from the way you might remember those occasions.

 

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

(We writers are asked to include some bio information. This is what I wrote: My sister was born the October that I was 4 1/2 years old. My mother says that, that December, I would drape small baby blankets over my head and shoulders and wander around the house, stopping at each room, and shaking my head and muttering “No room. No room. No room.” Then, I would erect my toy ironing board, drape IT with blankets, and sit under it, holding a doll. Apparently I would do that for hours, leaving her free to take care of the new baby in the house.

 

I TRIED to Be Nice . . .

| Kindness, Patience, Self-Control

I’m helping a friend with some carpooling. For a schoolkid. It’s taken a little while for me to get with the program and go in the right way and go out the right way. And how things change a little for the morning drop-off and the afternoon pick-up.

FYI-Nine cars can get through the light at the turn signal and then on through a driveway. Or, if I’m too far back in the line (car #11, for example) I can go straight and enter through a different driveway.

It’s a bit of a dance, and morning’s always easier, because not everyone’s arriving at exactly the same time. And the school employees who are guiding things along are fresh and calm. Afternoon is a little more challenging, because all the kids are getting out at the exact same time, and the school employee who is tasked with keeping us all in order seems a little bit stressed.

I also am stressed because they put traffic cones across the primary exit. Yes, they do. The rationale seems to be to keep cars from coming in that driveway, and therefore causing a traffic snarl. I, personally, have never seen anyone come in that outgoing space, but, of course, I’m not there all day. And, in all the days I’ve been on carpool duty this fall, I have never once seen a school employee come and remove the traffic cones so we carpool drivers can get out. I’ve seen parents get out of their cars and move a cone or two, but not anyone else.

A couple of nights ago, when I was having trouble sleeping, mainly because I was thinking about the next day’s afternoon carpool and how I needed to get in line first, or so, to be able to get going. I stewed and grumbled, and then had an epiphany. I needed to improve my attitude. I thought, I can move the traffic cones to make the exiting easier for all of us. And, I can do it nicely and creatively.

My plan consisted of moving the cones and putting them in interesting, creative patterns. My plan for that day was to stack all four cones and put them in the center of the driveway, so there would be plenty of space for cars to drive past easily and turn onto the roadway. Then, the next day, I thought, I could put two cones next to the left-hand side of the driveway and two cones next to the right-hand side of the driveway. Then, I could put pairs of cones on the grass next to each side of the driveway. I was satisfied with this idea that would take away the anger and frustration I was feeling and would give me a sense of helpfulness, and, well, whimsy.

Then, when I got up, I read through a little devotional that comes to me through e-mail. That day, it said, “Mercy is an act of grace or unmerited favor when other options are available and seem more appealing. It’s taking your foot off the neck of someone when, by every standard of this world, they deserve to be crushed. Mercy is a characteristic of mature Christians. It’s not easy, and it’s not consistent with the messages of today’s world — to hit back hard, to wall ourselves off from the undeserving.” Okay, the afternoon school employee who supervises carpool hardly deserves to be crushed. But I felt affirmed in that I was making a plan that would be a kind thing for me to do and I could feel like I was doing something helpful.

Here’s how it worked out: That afternoon, I arrived earlier than on other days, because I had something I planned to do and I wanted to get there a little early to be able to pick up my carpoolee and get going. I parked close to the exit driveway, got out, and moved the first traffic cone. I slipped it on top of the next cone and was picking them up to move them to the center of the driveway, when the afternoon carpool lady came racing towards me, yelling, “Don’t move the cones!!” (Lest you think I’m doing something egregious, every day some parent moves one or two cones, to be able to leave the parking lot.)

I said, “But I need to move a cone to be able to get out of the parking lot.”

She said, “The cones are to keep people from driving in.”

“Yes,” I said. “But, we need to be able to leave the parking lot. School is out for today.”

And she said, “You can go out that way,” as she pointed to another lane in the parking lot.

I looked at her with absolute astonishment.

“When I tried to do that last week, you got angry with me,” I said.

She did not have a reply.

“How about,” I said, “I can pull my car up close to the space where the cone was, and that will keep anyone from driving into the parking lot.”

She again did not have a reply. But she walked away.

I got in the car and pulled up close to the coneless space. Then, a few minutes later, a lady whose student had apparently rushed out of school and hopped into the car, rolled down her window and called out to me, “Can you move your car a little bit, so I can get out.”

“Sure,” I called over to her, as I began backing up. And, of course she needed me to move, as the driveway was blocked by the remaining three traffic cones.

 

Kindness is its own reward, but cruelty is a self-inflicted wound.

Proverbs 11:17 (The Voice Translation)

 

 

Perhaps I should find out the afternoon carpool lady’s name, so I can thank God for her. It cannot be an easy job.

Safety, Traffic, Cone, Caution, RoadSafety, Traffic, Cone, Caution, RoadSafety, Traffic, Cone, Caution, RoadSafety, Traffic, Cone, Caution, Road

I Learn a Lesson. Hopefully.

| Kindness, Patience

I bought a book last week. Truth be told, I was required to purchase a book last week.

Here’s how that happened.

Monday, a week ago, I had a doctor’s appointment. There’s usually some sit-around time at a doctor’s office. Could be short; could be long. Often, there are magazines lying around for folks to read. At the kidney place, there are quite a few exactly identical magazines that are professional kidney-related periodicals. They all look like they’ve never been touched, much less read.

And, if there are interesting magazines at a doctor’s office, and I pick up one to read, then I’m often in the middle of an interesting article when I have to go in to a see the doctor, and I never am able to finish the article. I guess I could go to the library, and see if they had a copy in their periodical room, but, given that what’s in the doctor’s office is often six months old, the out-dated copy of what I want isn’t there. It might be in a box that’s going to the annual library book sale, and I could find it there and buy it, but, really, what are the chances.

Taking a book (that I want to read) with me seems like the better choice, and that’s what I did. It was a “Maisie Dobbs” novel.

Several months ago, I popped into the library to look for an audio book to listen to when I was making a trip to Fort Worth to get Peter. I found several of them by an author named Jacqueline Winspear. It caught my eye because we have a niece whose last name is Winspear. (I should ask her if there’s a relation to anyone in her husband’s family.) I chose one and took it with me. The character is a private investigator in post WWI England. The book I chose was, of course, in the middle of the series, but I liked it. I looked up the series and started back at the beginning to catch up. Most of the books are on CD, but a couple of them aren’t, which means I have to stop in the middle of audio-enjoying a book while driving around, and actually get a hard-copy book and read it.

That’s the situation for the book in the physician’s office. I read in the waiting room, and then on to the “let’s check your vision” room, then to the “let’s scan your retina” room, and on to the “let’s shine the light of the sun into your eyes” room, then “wait here in this shadowy room,” and, finally, to the “wait here for the doctor” room. (We are very busy at the retina place.)

Then, and I am absolutely positive about this, when I went to check out and get a card for my next appointment, I had put the book on the counter. I remember seeing it there. Later, at home, when I wanted to read it, I couldn’t find it. It’s wasn’t in my purse, which is pretty big and where I usually put books when I’m toting them around.

It must be in the car I thought. It was not in the car. I guess it’s somewhere in the house. No, it was not anywhere in the house. Maybe I left it at the doctor’s after all.

Tuesday morning, I went straightway to the doctor’s office. I waited for my turn in line (where others where checking in), and then explained to the receptionist.

“I had a book with me yesterday morning when I was here. I thought I had it with me when I left, but I cannot find it anywhere in my car or house. Did someone find a book yesterday?”

She got up and stepped away from her desk and came back in a few seconds, with two books. I was briefly (very briefly) excited. But, although other people had left books (and who knows how long ago), mine was not there. She took my name and phone number and promised to call if it turned up.

I didn’t feel hopeful.

A couple of days later, I went to the library’s online site to check to see if any other books that I had might need to be turned in or renewed, and there was a message that said I couldn’t renew any of the books I did have, because I had an outstanding fine. OF 28 DOLLARS! I didn’t think it could be the book that I was afraid I had lost, because it wasn’t due for several more days. But, oh, yes, indeed. It was  the book I couldn’t find. I couldn’t find it because it had been turned in. Damaged.

I guess I dropped it when I left the doctor’s. On my way out of the building. As I got in the car. As I got out of the car, at my next stop. Wherever it was, it was in a parking lot or roadway. Because it had been run over.

Years ago, if you damaged a library book, you had to pay for it, but they didn’t give it back to you. I complained about that, because they were going to get rid of the damaged book and replace it. I should get the book back I argued (after I had #1-dropped a book in a puddle, and #2-dropped a different book in the bathtub.). They did not agree. However, recently, I learned that they had changed that policy. And, just in time! I went to the library, all contrite, and handed over my library card so they could start the process, and I paid for my very own, run-over-by-a-car copy of the Maisie Dobbs novel, A Lesson in Secrets.

What I find most amazing is that someone found the book, saw that it was a library book, and turned it in!! Otherwise, I’d have had to pay for the book and then waited for them to order another copy and then, hope-against-hope, that they would let me check out the new book to be able to finish the story.

Saturday morning, when the patio was in the shade, and before outdoor temperatures rose to oven-like, I sat on my new bench and finished reading the book. Let me know if you’d like to borrow it sometime.

 

Pay to all what is due them—taxes to whom taxes are due, revenue to whom revenue is due, respect to whom respect is due, honor to whom honor is due.

Romans 13:7 (New Revised Standard Version)

 

. . . and library fines to the library, if I ever again want to check out a book.

 

 

Afterthoughts

| Joy, Kindness

After/thoughts. It’s a real word. I checked. But, when I actually look at the word, it looks like “aftert houghts,” and makes me wonder if, when I’m reading quickly along, I might be stopped by thinking “Aftert houghts? What are those?” One definition of the word is “on second thought,” which might be a better usage. Or, I can just trust you to read it right in the first place.

Anyway, in thinking through those moments just before the second of those medical procedures from a couple of weeks ago, I recall the hubbub that seemed to bring something like panic through the cadre of medical professionals around me. My blood pressure was really high. There was lots of discussion about what to do about it. And I kept saying, “I don’t have high blood pressure.” Because, yes, indeed, I do not actually have high blood pressure. I had some visits with a cardiologist, a few years ago, because my blood pressure was so low that I’d, very briefly, passed out a couple of times. His advice was, “Get up slowly.” And I’ve pretty much been following his advice since then.

It’s not that I doubt that my blood pressure was elevated, lying there on that bed, waiting for the second attempt at the procedure, as I’d not had any solid food since Sunday. I’d not had anything to drink (except for that unpleasant-tasting colonoscopy prep liquid, which, I suppose, did hydrate me, maybe), since Tuesday. I’d had almost no sleep since Sunday night. And I’d had to sit in the waiting for an hour, and wondering if my colon was adequately prepared this time. Who wouldn’t have elevated blood pressure!

But the thing that may have made my blood pressure rise, even more than it had been, was a nurse who leaned ‘way up in my face and said, in a rather cloying and accusatory voice, “Honey! Have you not been taking your blood pressure medicine?”

And I said, “I don’t have high blood pressure,” for the first of several times.

FYI-we senior adults do NOT like to be talked to and treated like children. Or called “Honey,” by total strangers.

I do understand that these are medically-trained professionals, and their job is to make sure that patients are healthy and compliant with procedures and prescriptions. And I also suppose that there are patients who don’t take their medications and don’t follow guidelines. But I do want the medical professionals to treat me as though I am compliant, unless I have a history that says I’m not.

There was no problem with my blood pressure Tuesday, the day before, when I was being prepped. That day, and the next day, a nurse had gone over my prescription list, which was on the computer. If I’d had a prescription for high blood pressure medication, it would have been on the list. Since there was none, the assumption should have been that it was not a diagnosis I had.

As I was being disengaged from the IV’s, etc. after I was done, a nurse asked when I’d last seen my primary care physician. “Six weeks ago,” I said,emphatically. “My blood pressure was fine.”

She said, “You should get a home blood pressure cuff. They’re easy to use. And you can check your blood pressure.”

“I have a home blood pressure cuff,” I said. “And I know how to use it. I got it a while back, when I was seeing a cardiologist, because my blood pressure was so low that I was passing out.”

They tell you that you probably won’t remember much from the colonoscopy experience, and of course, I don’t remember the procedure itself, but I’m pretty clear on what happened before I was put to sleep. And one of the last things I remember, before being wheeled from the prep area to the procedure area, was a nurse saying to the doctor, “Are you going to do anything about this blood pressure?” And he said, “No.”

I wouldn’t be surprised if my blood pressure had begun to drop right then. I know that I felt soothed and relieved, knowing that my physician was on my side.

 

 

Now, may the Lord himself, the Lord of peace, pour into you his peace in every circumstance and in every possible way. The Lord’s tangible presence be with you all.

2 Thessalonians 3:16 (The Passion Translation)

 

Interestingly, but not unexpectedly, when I went, two days later, for an appointment at the kidney center, the nurse who took my blood pressure said, “One ten over sixty. That’s great!” When the doctor came in and looked at all the numbers, he was even more enthusiastic. My kidney function was 36.6%, higher than it’s been in years and twice what it was in June of 2012, when they were starting to talk about dialysis.

And look!” he said. “Your blood pressure is really good!” Seems like I don’t have high blood pressure.

 

Membership Perks

| Joy, Kindness, Love, Patience

A couple of weeks ago, I had to wait for a prescription at Target to be filled. I spent the time wandering around the book department, where I shamelessly used my phone to take photos of book covers that I thought looked interesting and hoped that the library would have copies that I could check out, for free, to read.

 

 

I was startled, in a really good way, to see this book. A few years ago, I read Miss Peregrine’s Home for Peculiar Children. It’s a YA novel (Young Adult) with a really quirky plot, and I enjoyed it. Then, I found, at the library, of course, Book 2 (Hollow City) and Book 3 (Library of Souls) and read them, too. I thought that was the end, but, ta-dah, there, at Target, was Book 4 (A Map of Days). I’m about halfway into it. Just as quirky, just as interesting, and the only problem is that I’ve forgotten some of the characters and plot specifics, which the author is helping me with by subtle references, that are making me go. “Oh, yeah. Those guys.” Or, “Hmmmm. Was he invisible? Was she really tall?”

 

 

Anyway, the previous reader left her bookmark in the book, and I’m using it, too. Doesn’t it seem like the perfect, quirky sort of bookmark for a quirky book? I’m pretty sure that the most recent borrower of the book is female, because she also left her checkout receipt in the book, too. (Sometimes they make nice, disposable bookmarks, also.)

 

 

Here’s her checkout slip. I don’t ever keep mine, because I don’t use them to keep track of my due dates, as I use my information on the library website, to keep track of what I have on hold, what’s ready to be picked up, and what can be renewed, or must be returned. Or, in too many instances, what has accrued a fine. And, there’s a self checkout area where I can scan and check out books myself, and the computer asks if I want a receipt, and I always decline, because that’s just another piece of paper floating around. The only time I have a receipt is when I get a DVD, which the librarians are required to check out, because the DVD cases are locked and the librarians unlock them (a thievery prevention system). Because I rarely get these slips, I’ve not noticed the information at the bottom. (Above the “Thank You” part)

Here’s my most recent slip. (Yes, I’m looking forward to watching Mr. Rogers. Soon.) I’ve never before noticed that financial information. I’m apparently getting close to saving $8000.00 by borrowing items from the library, instead of purchasing them. And, seriously, that’s nowhere NEAR the amount of money I’ve saved since I “began using the library.” I’ve been using the library since I was, I think, 7. That’s bound to be hundreds of thousands of dollars. This most recent total is just the $7,857.82 I’ve saved since they started keeping track. I need to ask them when they started doing that.

And, seriously, I can’t be buying any more books! Where would I put them?

It’s so hard to think of getting rid of books. Thank goodness there’s a library.

 

 

I use stories when I speak to them because when they look, they cannot see, and when they listen, they cannot hear or understand.

Matthew 13:13 (Contemporary English Version)

 

Miss Peregrine’s lot of Peculiar Children are a crew of, well, misfits of a sort. They behave as bravely as they can, they support their friends, they work together, in general, and they make a difference in their imaginary world. They rather remind me of some folks who cobbled together a group with different skill sets who worked together, in general, to make a difference in their very real world.

Meanwhile, I got an e-mail from the library informing me that my “membership in the library” was expiring, and that I needed to come in and renew it. The guy at the desk at the library was appropriately embarrassed at the term, but did explain that they were trying to update things so that someone who had moved out of town 20 years ago could be safely removed from the system. I do sort of understand, but it also seems like, if I’ve accrued, in the recent few months, nearly $8000.00 in library materials used, that mine would be a name that could safely be checked off as “active.”

 

 

It Feels Like Some of the Old Year Is Still Hanging Around.

| Joy, Kindness, Love

Post-Christmas and holidays, and things are settling down back into normal, or usual. But the memories are still fresh.

Last Christmas, I found a notebook that had one of those sequin covers where the sequins can be brushed one way or the other to create designs. The sequins were black in one direction and gold in the other, and Peter enjoyed creating ominous black clouds on the covers. I’ve seen more and more of those sorts of items in the ensuing months. I’ve thought they were intriguing, but I wasn’t interested in buying another sequined item until I was at the HEB last month. This large pillow seemed like another compelling item for family fun. Basically, brushed one way, there are green wedges and white wedges. Brushed the other way, there are red wedges and white wedges. Peter discovered that he could make a spiral. And, if you’re really careful and concentrating, you can have a green/red version. Rather mesmerizing.

It seems that my consistent struggle with chilly temps has been taken to heart by family members. I got a muff, hand made hand warmers, handwarmers, and, that black thing that looks like a computer mouse is an electronic, rechargeable handwarmer. Toasty days ahead for me!

And, I also got some books, to warm my soul.

I’ve talked before about Peter’s interest in The Great British Baking Show, which I watch when I’m walking on my treadmill. And he will encourage me to take a break from whatever I happen to be doing so I can have my walk. (And he can watch bakers.) His most recent idea is that we should have our own Great Baking Show, and has created an imaginary kitchen, stage, and bakers to be contestants on that program. “We’ll ask them to make a cake,” he suggested. “A two-layer cake. No!” he changed his mind. “We’ll ask them to bake just one layer, and then they’ll have to slice it in half. The bakers have a hard time slicing a layer in half,” he says, knowingly. He likes to make things challenging for our imaginary bakers. He wanted a brown sugar cake, which I had to go online to find a recipe for. And he wanted vanilla frosting in the center. I suggested a browned butter frosting, since it might look prettier with the brown sugar cake. Then, we made dark and white chocolate stars for the top. Just because.

I’ve recently read this biography of Fred Rogers. His growing-up years were interesting to learn about. His family was a wealthy one, and his parents quietly helped employees in their company who might have been struggling with overwhelming bills, and made sure that needs were met. They supported their son, and later a daughter, too, in their interests, and provided a strong spiritual foundation. Fred had imagined that he would grow up to be a Presbyterian minister. Thank goodness he went the early childhood route!

I really enjoyed the book, and recalled hearing Mr. Rogers’ songs played every weekday morning in our house when the boys were preschoolers. And I wondered if the library might have some Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood videos. Of course they did. I got one, planning to introduce Peter to the the charm and delight of Mister Rogers.

Peter stayed in Waco for several days after his parents went back to Fort Worth, and, that first morning, I explained about the program that his dad and Uncle Jeremy had watched. Peter was uninterested. “I don’t want to watch that,” he said. “We’re watching it,” I said. He whined. I reminded him that I am always doing the things that he asks me to do and, this time, it’s my turn. “We’re watching it,” I said.

Peter groaned and got up on the day bed and barricaded himself behind pillows. I started the video, and Fred Rogers came through his door, singing, “It’s a beautiful day in the neighborhood, a beautiful day for a neighbor, would you be mine?”

“I wonder what he’s carrying?” I said. (It was a pasta maker. Mister Rogers always brings in something interesting.) By the time Mister Rogers had sat down and taken off his street shoes and put on his tennis shoes, Peter was sitting on the edge of the bed and smiling. We watched the whole episode, and, by time the second episode began, Peter was sitting in my lap. A Fred Rogers convert.

Meanwhile, I just put away the last of the Christmas boxes on Wednesday.

 

 The Lord‘s unfailing love and mercy still continue, Fresh as the morning, as sure as the sunrise.

Lamentations 3:22-23 (Good News Translation)

“Fresh as the morning, as sure as the sunrise.” That seems like a wonderful way to welcome in a nice, new year.

 

 

 

Am I Awesome or Am I Not?

| Kindness, Self-Control

Several years ago, I was part of a team working with a church to help organize and improve their Sunday School. There were four age-group people (adult, youth, children, and preschool [me]), and we had a team leader, who, I think, was a Minister of Education. We were members of various churches around the country, and I don’t even remember where we were working.

Our team leader had a phrase that he really liked to use. And use, and use, and use. He wanted people to “buy into” whatever it was that he was talking about at the time, like the ideas we were suggesting, the locations of teaching rooms, the enlistment of new teachers, and that sort of thing. We were at the church for a whole week, with each team member meeting with their age-group teachers and staff people. The team leader met with the pastor and other workers, both staff and volunteers. At the end of the week, we all came together, team and church members, to present the ideas and plans and to think about how the church could implement the things they had planned. Our team’s members sat at the back of the group.

I’d heard the phrase “buy into it” so many times during the week that when our Team Leader began to present and explain all the details, I had a pen and paper pad out, for taking notes, and, honestly, for keeping count of how many times he asked folks to “buy into” the plans. Many years have gone by, and I cannot recall exactly how many tick marks I made during the 40-minute presentation. But there was at least one per minute and some minutes had two, or more. I am not making this up. (I was also, sort of, taking notes, so as not to seem so obvious as to call attention to my documentation.) Then we bowed our heads as our Team Leader prayed. And, I promise you, I am NOT inventing this or recalling it wrong: when the man prayed, he actually asked God to buy into our plans! Seriously. And I am truly embarrassed to tell you that I could not hold back a snicker, which I quickly tried to cover with a pretty serious and extended cough.

I really wanted to send the man a Thesaurus, anonymously, of course, with pages marked at places where other words like accept, agree, confirm, endorse, and  recommend would be good choices.

Anyway, I recently remembered this guy when I attended a large training event with some other people from my church. We listened to a few, brief, speakers, who had encouraging words for us. Then, the primary speaker talked, giving us ideas for the work we were going to be doing and suggestions for supplies and for how to teach. That woman apparently knows only one superlative word: AWESOME!

About halfway into her presentation, I was so very sorry that I didn’t have a pen in my hand, because I would love to have known how many times she used the word. She used it when she talked about our opportunities, she used it when she talked to other people on the stage, she used it when she shared examples of things we could and should use when we talked and taught. I want to send her a Thesaurus.

And then, of course, I began to pay more attention to the words I use and the things I say. My “superlative” word is, apparently, amazing. We’ve recently had an amazing amount of rain, here. Our pretty, solar, outside Christmas lights are amazing. (Actually they haven’t been very amazing recently because we had all that amazing rain, and the solar cells cannot power themselves up unless there’s sunshine.) The Thursday after Christmas, David and Peter and Kevin went to Thursday LateNight at the Mayborn museum. April and I went to see the new Spiderman movie, which had gotten really good reviews. It was, as you might expect, amazing. (It is, after all, Spiderman!)

Now I’m thinking I need to retire “amazing” for a while, and try to expand my vocabulary use.

Looking at “A” words, there’s: astounding, astonishing, admirable, ambitious, awe-inspiring, august (dignified, noble, grand), A-1, accomplished, adroit (very able, skilled). I’m thinking that, if “amazing” is the first thing that pops into my mind, “astounding” and “astonishing” might be the easier to pull up into my head as I try to increase my vocabulary.

 

The right word at the right time is like precious gold set in silver.

Proverbs 25:11 (Contemporary English Version)

 

I’m not usually invested in New Year’s resolutions, because, I guess, I’ve never been all that successful at keeping or maintaining them for any length of time. But, I think I’ll spend some time this year trying to increase the variety of words I use.

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Note: I was writing this and also watching the Baylor Women’s Basketball Team play UConn, the #1 team in the country. Baylor (#8) led from the beginning, ultimately beating UConn by 11 points. Near the end of the game, David walked by and said, “Are you watching the game?” And I said, “Amazing.” Looks like it might take a while to break the amazing habit.

 

 

 

 

Yarn Yarns

| Faithfulness, Kindness, Patience

 

 

The living room, when the yarn first arrived.

The room where I emptied out *all* the large bags and worked to organize everything. It felt as though any nice yarn shop could have gone into business with the inventory that I had in my guest room.

I’ve mentioned before, a couple of times or so, the twenty large bags of my Mother-in-law’s yarn that David brought home after his sisters had cleaned out and organized the house after her death. There were 40 bags, but he couldn’t get them all in the car. He had packed the trunk and the car, up to the lower edges of the windows. At our house, they filled the living room.

Eventually, I moved it all into the guest room. I had consolidated all the yarns, finding the same colors and types of yarn and putting them into zip-locking bags, to make it easier for the folks in my knitting/crochet group to locate yarns they were interested in and being able to determine if there was enough for whatever project they were hoping to complete. They meet twice a month, and each time, I took three, four, or five bags

In October, I mentioned the yarn again, saying this: “Tuesday, I took three more big bags of very nice yarn (mostly cotton and wool, this time) to the Knitting and Crocheting group, thanks to David’s mom’s yarn-buying habit. I think one more trip might get them all into the hands of those crafty ladies.” Hah. Here it is, looking January in the face, and I still have yarn.

 

When Jeremy and Sarah came for Thanksgiving (and were scheduled to stay in the guest room), I moved everything to the only spare place I had: my car. Large, black bags of wools and wool blends, and large white bags of man-made materials (acrylics, nylons, that sort of thing) were stuffed into the trunk, filling it up completely, front to back, side to side. Using the two colors of bags helped the yarn workers know which bag they should be searching, to find the kinds of yarn they were interested in. Cottons went into the back seat. I felt like a mobile yarn store. The second Tuesday and the fourth Thursday of each month, I opened up the trunk, pulled out three or fours bags and toted them into our meeting spaces.

Many members of the group knit and/or crochet furiously, daily, to create items for helping agencies around town. Hats for the homeless in our area, shawls and lap-sized afghans for people in nursing homes and rehab facilities, warm “chemo” hats, for cancer patients going through chemotherapy, scarves for participants and families involved in Special Olympics, tiny hats for newborns in local hospitals, hats for young children who attend the therapeutic nursery in our town, and other things I don’t even know about.

People also choose yarns for gifts for family members, and for items they will create for themselves. Because the yarns my mother-in-law purchased are of better quality that those that might be available at Wal-Mart, the yarn-workers are able to make nicer items for themselves and their families. Several people choose skeins of 100% wool because they are learning felting techniques (which require wool), and wool is more costly than acrylic yarn.

There’s a senior adult lady who lives on a meager, fixed income. She makes things that she sells at a monthly craft fair, to earn a little extra. For a while, she’ll be able to keep all the money she gets, because she hasn’t had to buy yarn. And, some things will sell for a little higher price, because the yarn is a better quality than she can afford to buy.

One young member’s spouse is out of work. She has a part-time job, but it’s not enough. She’s furiously making items to sell at a regular craft fair in a nearby town. Free yarn for her work! It’s making a difference.

If, at the end of a yarn group meeting, there is any yarn left, the group’s leader will take it to a woman who is home-bound, on chemotherapy. She knits the yarn into items for a local abuse shelter. She makes toys, hats, blankets, and anything else the shelter needs.

At church, we put out devotional books a few times during the year. Different people are asked to contribute pieces, and they are printed up for us to have, and they are also posted online each day during the season, too. A couple of weeks before Christmas, I read one by a church member that I don’t know. At the end of each devotional piece, the writers are asked to write a one-or-two sentence biographical blurb. This writer said that her hobbies were “voracious reading and crochet.” CROCHET!!  After that week’s worship service, I asked a couple of people if they knew her. Nope. Then, as I was about to leave, one of those folks came and said, “That lady over there in the green flowered shirt. That’s her.” “Did you just go around, asking people if they knew who she was?” I asked him. “Yes,” he said, as though it was the most sensible way to solve the problem, which, of course, it was. I gave up too soon.

I went over and she said, “Gayle! I heard you were looking for me.” I said, yes, that I had read her devotional, and I saw she liked to crochet. She said, yes, and I said, “I have yarn.” I explained the whole mother-in-law thing, and she said she’d love to come over and look at it, and I said, “Oh, no. It’s in my car.” She looked skeptical, as though Who would drive around with very much yarn in their car. I said, “My trunk is full of wool and acrylics and the back seat is full of cotton.” We went straight out to the parking lot to the car.

She was delighted. As she burrowed through it all, she turned to a friend who was with me (we were on our way to my house to make Christmas cookies). She said to my friend, “Do you do needlework? Don’t you want some of this?” “Oh,” said my friend. “I was the first one who got to go through it. I took home four tote bags full of yarn.”

I talked to my sister last week. Thursday, I sent off two large envelopes of yarn to Seattle. She’s not going to knit it, but my brother-in-law is. And my niece.

 

And now, there are two bagsfull still in the trunk, and two handle bags full of the cotton yarn, transferred from the back seat. There’s also a box of yarns that have been partially used and have no label, so knitters might struggle to know the exact size and weight of the yarn, the fiber content, and the care instructions. But they might be great for practicing new stitches, designs, and ideas.

 

 

Another trip or two to knitting/crochet group, and I should be yarn-free. I did keep a couple of things for myself, but, really, I already had some yarn.

 

 

 

She keeps herself busy making wool and linen cloth.

Proverbs 31:13 (Good News Translation)

   

and with her own hands she gladly makes clothes.

Proverbs 31:13 (Contemporary English Version)

 

She seeks wool and flax, and works with willing hands.

Proverbs 31:13 (New Revised Standard Version)

 

She searches out continually to possess that which is pure and righteous.
    She delights in the work of her hands

Proverbs 31:13 (The Passion Translation)

  

She shops around for the best yarns and cottons, and enjoys knitting and sewing.

Proverbs 31:13 (The Message)

I usually compare different translations, which have the same content, but I like to see what the different word choices are as I choose. I have to admit, I do like The Message’s translation best.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

And . . . It’s November

| Kindness, Love, Patience, Peace

June was all right. July was hot. August was hotter. September wasn’t much better. October hurried by and now it’s November, and I’m a little startled.

We’re still a little bit behind on average rainfall, but we’ve so made up for most of the deficit. We finally had a few sunny days, and then, with no warning that I got, Thursday turned dark and nasty.

I’d gone to the grocery store, sort of at the last minute, for Halloween treats. And, for me, those treats are apples. I certainly love candy and would eat it every day if I could. Junior Mints for breakfast, M&Ms for lunch, and Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups for dinner. If I could.

And Snickers and Mars Bars and Hershey Bars. And Butterfingers.

Yes, there’s a plate of goodies, but Kevin’s eating his apple.

But several years ago, I started handing out apples. Years ago, when Kevin was two, I took him to a family Halloween party. There were apples on the table, and every kid got one. Kevin cradled it with love. He’d never had a whole entire apple, all his own. I’ve seen the same thing with other kids; that “This is my apple and you stay away from it!” sort of attitude. So, I get apples.

Thursday morning was really dark. Heavy clouds. And then, mid-morning, pouring rain. Rain, and rain, and more rain. Then, in the afternoon, it kept on raining. Still, I opened the bags of apples and piled them into a basket and set it near the door. I turned on the outside lights. And had low expectations.

No kids live on our block or the next one up. I don’t see many kids in the neighborhood, despite the fact that there’s an elementary school at the end of the block. But, I don’t begrudge the groups of children that walk around, or are driven around, looking for houses with their lights on.

No one rang the doorbell until after 8:00. In the street, there were several parked cars with lights on. A caravan of sorts, I think, of families who were out searching for goodies. When I opened the door, there were ten or twelve kids, with their parents standing behind them. They said, “Trick or Treat!” (The littlest ones needed some prompting.)

“Happy Halloween,” I said, and held out my basket.

“Apples!” said the littlest ones, who were standing closest, and they reached in for their fruit.

“Apples?” said the older kids, as they pulled apples from the basket, just as happily.

“Thank you,” said a mom. “You are my favorite house!”

Nobody looked unhappy. And why would they, they already had loads of candy. Along with their shiny apple that was all their own.

The next, much smaller group came about a half hour later. They were just as happy with apples as the others.  And, that was it for the evening.

Only once, many years ago, two houses ago, did I have a grumpy Trick-or-Treater. The doorbell rang, I opened the door, and held out the basket with apples inside. The boy leaned over and stared down into the basket. He looked up at me and said, rather unkindly, “I don’t want an apple.”

I said, “Too bad. That’s all I’ve got.” He turned away, and walked back down the sidewalk, where his dad (I presume) was standing. When he got to the end of the sidewalk, his dad said, “What did you say to her!?!”

I closed the door, smiling just a little, hoping the kid was going to get some sort of instruction about grateful hearts and being kind and thankful for gifts that are freely given.

 

Yes, God will give you much so that you can give away much, and when we take your gifts to those who need them they will break out into thanksgiving and praise to God for your help.

2 Corinthians 9:11 (The Living Bible)

 

 

The Sunday after Halloween, I usually take the basket with the remaining apples to church, to preschool Sunday School. I peel and core the apples, and the children, using nice, safe knives, cut them up (into varying sized pieces, some rather large and some minuscule). Then, we put them into an electric skillet (in an out-of-the way place) and cook them. Then we squash them with a potato masher and have yummy homemade applesauce. We are thankful.