Posts Categorized: Patience

Winter Prep

| Patience, Peace, Self-Control

There was a blog a year-and-a-half ago, or so, about how my kids had purchased a put-it-up-yourself, heavy-duty plastic greenhouse for me to use to protect some plants from the winter weather. And, how I took it down all by myself (and tripped out of it after the last of the supports had been removed). The next fall, they put it up, staked it down, and I put some of my more tender patio plants inside it. Many survived, and, once again, I took the thing down, by myself, the next spring. The first year, I could absolutely not get it folded up and replaced in the large plastic storage bag in which it came. I had just wadded the thing up and shoved it into a small shed we have at the back of the yard. The second year, I did a much better job and it was almost completely in the  bag.

When taking down the plastic greenhouse, I used the construction instructions and just started at the bottom and went through all the stages backwards. The last parts that had been put in place were the first ones that I removed. It went much better the second year.

This fall, we had some early, low temperature weather, and no one was going to be around to erect the little greenhouse. And I was unwilling to haul all those a-little-sturdy-but-also-a-little-vulnerable plants into the house. I just don’t have the surfaces to accommodate them all. And I thought to myself if I can take it down all by myself, then I should be able to put it up by myself. (Sometimes I have a way unreasonable evaluation of my own abilities.)

I got the instructions out, read them, and decided how hard can it be. (Fill in your own ideas in your head about that.)

I put on my overalls and got a jacket and pulled out the instructions for putting up the little greenhouse. Boldly, I went out to the shed, unlocked the door, and pulled out the almost-completely-in-the-storage-bag greenhouse and lugged it up to the house. I pulled the pieces out and read the first step (Unpack the FlowerHouse). Step two was “Take fiberpoles out of pack and assemble them completely.” Then I went back to the shed and found the long, skinny bag that held all the metal pieces that actually hold up the greenhouse.

The next step was to insert the side support poles into small pockets. These side supports, two on each side, make supporting crosses that hold up the sides of the “FlowerHouse.” It just sounded so easy. The problem is that the greenhouse is just a limp pile of heavy-duty plastic. It does not stand up by itself until those poles are installed, so I cannot just stand up inside it and put those poles in place. I worked for almost an hour, pulling and tugging, crawling inside the supportless bundle, trying to find those “small pockets,” and struggling, without success, to poke the ends of the fiberpoles into those “small pockets.” It was the Laurel and Hardy version of putting up a “FlowerHouse.” As far as I know, no neighbor filmed me at work. The neighbors on one side and the back have privacy fences, and the neighbor on the other side has a big hedge, so my struggles weren’t obvious, I suppose, to any of them.

And, there are actually some support pieces permanently installed in the structure. They are at the front and the back of the structure (or, what will be the structure) that support the front and the back panels which also have the doorways, which have heavy-duty-zippers to open and close them. Finally, I solved the problem by hauling the thing to the side of the house and struggling to set one of those end panels up against the bricks of the wall. That enabled me to get inside, sort of, and push plastic away enough that I was able to install the first two fiberpoles (into their small pockets) in an X shape against one side wall. I worked quickly to put the other two in, on the opposite side. And, Ta-Dah! Along with the pre-installed supports at the front and back, everything else was easy-peasy. Ish.

I’m sorry I didn’t carefully note the time I started and when I finished. I know I worked more than an hour, and the amount of time it took to install that first set of poles was about three-fourths of the time I spent on the project. I did hope for very quiet weather for the next twenty-four hours. I didn’t stake the thing down until the next afternoon. A big wind storm might very easily have sent the thing rolling down the street.

    God spoke: “Lights! Come out!
        Shine in Heaven’s sky!
    Separate Day from Night.
        Mark seasons and days and years,
    Lights in Heaven’s sky to give light to Earth.”
        And there it was.

Genesis 1:14-15 (The Message Translation)

 

I complain, bitterly, about our horrid summer heat. But, really, I think I’d be in really bad shape if I lived someplace where there are blizzards (and more than one during the winter!) and biting winds, and snowplows have to come and rescue people. Once, when Peter was here, I was checking the weather information on my phone. I told Peter to look at the temperature information on the refrigerator, and it said the freezer was 5°. I showed him the temperature in Brooklyn, where Jeremy and Sarah live. It was 7.°  That’s winter. I must stop complaining.

A Cautionary Tale

| Patience, Peace

As I was walking towards the door at the grocery store one Thursday afternoon, an employee was bringing carts back from the parking lot. “Here,” she said, offering an empty cart. I took it and went through the store quickly, getting some last minute stuff (and using some coupons). At the checkout counter, I had put all my groceries on the conveyor belt, when I glanced down and saw a long, dark thing in the bottom of the cart, pushed against one of the sides. What? Hmmm.  It was a cane.

“Someone’s left their cane in this cart,” I said to the cashier, who was preoccupied with scanning my groceries. I was wielding my coupons and getting my loyalty card and my credit card from my wallet, and had run out of hands. Another employee came up to begin bagging my groceries, and I picked up the cane, held it out to her, and said, again, “Someone has left their cane in this cart.”

“Oh,” she said. “I’ll take it to the office,” and she walked the few steps over to the customer service desk, and, I’m hoping, to the Lost and Found. I’m imagining someone using their cane to walk to the store’s entrance and then putting the cane in the cart because holding on to the cart’s handle would probably be enough support as they walked through the store. Then, um, maybe they used the cart as they walked from the store to their car. And, if they put the cart, gently, up against the car’s side, they could have put a bag of two of groceries into the back seat and closed the door. Then, maybe they opened the front door and got inside the car, being able to manage all that, but also forgetting to get the cane. Maybe they got all the way home and got out of the car before even realizing that the cane had not come home along with the groceries.

I understand about leaving important things behind.

That’s what I did, one day recently. I put my purse and my big bag of bags in the cart and walked toward the store. When I got up to the entrance, I saw that there were some of the smaller carts (like the one in the photo above), and I decided that I didn’t need the big, regular cart. The smaller one would work fine, and I transferred to the smaller cart. I shopped for the few things that I needed. and finished up pretty quickly. Having less that ten items, I could go through the self checkout lane.  And, I was able to get everything easily into my purse, which really is pretty spacious.

I walked back to the car, opened the door, put my purse in, and, hmmm, where were my bags? Nooooooooo. When I switched carts, I’d left my recycle grocery store bags in the other cart. My large HEB insulated bag, a few other lightweight bags that I’d been using for a couple of years, and one of the Crayola bags that I’d purchased at the Crayola Experience  store.

I went right back into the store and waited in line at the Customer Service area. When it was my turn, I explained what happened and asked if the bags had been turned in to the Lost and Found. They looked. And, no, there were no bags. And we both assumed that someone, who walked up to the cart area, after I had walked away, looked and said, “Well, well. Free bags!”

And that was that.

 

 “You’re familiar with the old written law, ‘Love your friend,’ and its unwritten companion, ‘Hate your enemy.’ I’m challenging that. I’m telling you to love your enemies. Let them bring out the best in you, not the worst. When someone gives you a hard time, respond with the energies of prayer, for then you are working out of your true selves, your God-created selves. This is what God does. He gives his best—the sun to warm and the rain to nourish—to everyone, regardless: the good and bad, the nice and nasty. If all you do is love the lovable, do you expect a bonus? Anybody can do that. If you simply say hello to those who greet you, do you expect a medal? Any run-of-the-mill sinner does that.

Matthew 5:43-47 (The Message Translation)

 

A few days after I inadvertently gave away my HEB bags, I bought new ones–a new, large insulated bag and another “Texas” HEB bag. And, I have four of those nice, big, sturdy “penguin” bags that I got, for free, from the zoo folks, who used them as advertisement for the bond vote for Zoo improvements, which passed!

What a Time Saver It Would Be to Learn Lessons the Easy Way

| Faithfulness, Patience

I’m an impulse buyer.

“Oh, that looks delicious. I can put that in a salad.”

“That dress looks perfect for me.”

“That plant will look great in the front flower bed.”

“Those shoes look really comfortable.”

And so on …

Sometimes, it’s a good choice. ‘Way too often, it’s not.

 

A while back, at least a year, maybe a year and a half, I was at one of the local nurseries that I really enjoy visiting. It was probably spring. Not last spring; the one before that. I was looking for interesting plants and reading the labels on different sorts of growing things, and I found Turk’s Cap. The little information tag said, “Attracts hummingbirds and butterflies.” That sounded promising. We think that someone in the neighborhood must have hummingbird feeders, because we often see hummingbirds in the yard. They just come for a quick visit, because we haven’t had any flowering plants that seem attractive to the birds. And a variety of butterflies shows up sometimes. So, I thought, perfect.

I was debating where to plant the three that I bought. I debated a long, long time, while the plants did their best to grow while still in the flimsy pots they came in. I finally decided on the bed at the back of the house. This spring, I dug in lots of compost and got the bed all ready. It takes me a while, sometimes, to get everything all done, and, by the time I was ready to put them in the ground, I’d bought a few more of the plants. The first ones have red flowers and the newer ones have pink flowers.

I put on my overalls and went out one morning recently to plant those Turk’s Caps, and, just as I was picking up the tools I would need, I thought Maybe I should see what the sunshine needs are for these plants. I went inside and looked up Turk’s Cap information. They will grow most anywhere, in this climate, but they do best in the sun. Full sun.

I went out into the sunny, ish, back yard. The bed by the back wall had a sliver of sunshine. For about 30 minutes. Otherwise. Shade, shade, and more shade.

Now what?

I thought about the sunny places I have. The side yard at the front corner of the house, which is full of cannas and daisies, reliable plants I like, gets quite a bit of sun, but not the blasting afternoon sun that the front flower bed gets.  And I really want to plant those Turk’s Caps. So I spent all day Wednesday (a nice warm day) digging up the cannas at the front end of that side bed. I moved many of them farther to the back end, filling in some bare spaces. I culled some of the daisies, who have pretty much taken over, and made space. The Turk’s Caps are supposed to grow nice and full, especially in the sun.

I watered the transplants and gave them all some good plant food. And now it’s just a wait and see season. As I was working, I saw one of our resident lizards, enjoying the last sunny day we’ll have for a little while.

 

 

Pay attention to advice and accept correction, so you can live sensibly.

Proverbs 19:20 (Contemporary English Version)

 

A friend from church works for Urban Reap, part of Mission Waco Ministries. I was having a Turk’s Cap conversation with him, about having to change my planting plans. Not enough sun where I wanted to put them. “Oh yes,” he said. They had planted some Turk’s Cap at their house, too. In a shady spot, where they aren’t doing as well as he’d hoped. “They’re growing,” he said. “But they’re not putting on any flowers. Not enough sun.”

 

Whether Weather

| Faithfulness, Joy, Patience

I’m pretty much a fair-weather friend. Dictionary.com defines Fair-weather friend as “A friend who supports others only when it is easy and convenient to do so.” But I’m talking about real fair weather. That’s what I’m a friend of. I like the kind of weather where I can walk around outside and not be constantly searching for a little piece of shade to protect me from the miserable, scorching summer heat.

I complain, bitterly, about the blistering summer heat in July and August, and the fact that it pretty much continues way into September. I see the ads and articles in magazines about Back-to-School fall clothing and recipes for “cooler weather” cooking, and I roll my eyes. I’ve only just, in the past couple of weeks, moved my lighter weight clothes to the guest room closet, and brought the heavier clothes back into my regular closet. I’m glad to see them, those “winter” clothes, even though people who live in, say, Michigan, would laugh at the idea that they are all I have for “winter.” I have a heavy wool coat, and I think that’s the only woolen article of clothing that I own. And I wear that coat about three times a year, otherwise it’s lighter weight sweaters and jackets.

Friday, November 1, 2019–There is frost on the ground. Seriously. the temperature in Waco at 6:00 a.m. was between 27° and 30° depending on where in town you were.

Halloween this year was near freezing. Really. That’s a most unusual situation for us. By Tuesday, the high is predicted at 73, with a low of 57. That’s Central Texas for you. Of course, things are then supposed to drop down to 60’s and low 50’s, but that’s not down-jackets-and-wool-hats-and-gloves weather. It’s rather what we were looking forward to, back in September, when the high temperature was 91°.

I did move some of the plants on the patio close to the house and cover them with a sheet, hoping to get a little more time before a real freeze does them in. Some things in pots will be just fine. There’s a pot with sedum that I’ve had for fifteen years.  It’s just finished blooming and will die back with the first freeze. It will be the first thing to start growing again in March.

There’s lots of lemon-related plants: lemon thyme and lemon mint and lemon verbena and lemon tree, which is a kind of eucalyptus. Lemon scented things are supposed to be mosquito repellents, but I’m not so sure. They are, however, pretty easy to grow and are sturdy.

Eventually I’ve learned to ask the important questions about hardiness and water needs and light. Still, though, I sometimes buy without asking for important information. Like when I bought several Turk’s Cap plants for the bed at the back of the house. They’re hardy and attract hummingbirds and butterflies. Right before I went out to plant them in the nice bed I’d gotten ready, I checked the computer to see what kind of light they needed. Sun. And lots of it. Sun. Which barely touches that bed. They’ll have to go someplace else. I’m not quite sure where.

 

When the clouds are full of water, it rains.
When the wind blows down a tree, it lies where it falls.
Don’t sit there watching the wind. Do your own work.
Don’t stare at the clouds. Get on with your life.

Ecclesiastes 11:3,4  (The Message)

 

When we were first married, David was in the Air Force and was stationed at Hickam Air Force Base, right next to Pearl Harbor, on Oahu. So, Hawaii. Right? I took lightweight, summery sorts of clothes. We went in April, and I was fine all spring and summer and into fall. There are really only two seasons there: Summer and Rainy. In September, I had to ask Mother to please send some of my long-sleeved things, because the temps were going down a little. By February, when I was student teaching, I was pretty chilly on some days. I had a raincoat and a shawl (it was the 70’s), and that was it for outerwear. One day, at school, I was clutching my shawl around me, while I was working with a kid. He looked at my shivering self and said, “Why don’t you ask your mother to buy you a coat?”  Seems like not every day in the tropics is all that fair.

Now, I’m going to get on with things. And I’ll check on those plants under the sheet.

C’mon, Apple Guys! Make a Better Choice!

| Patience, Self-Control

Sunday through Thursday evenings, I set my iPhone’s alarm for 7:00 a.m. I almost always wake up at 6:00 or 6:30, but, just to be sure, I do set that alarm, so I’ll be up and able to take care of some early morning responsibilities. I put the phone on the windowsill above the bed, and plug it in, so I’ll be able to recharge the thing and to hear it, if I don’t wake up and turn it off earlier. (On Friday and Saturday nights, I use the bathroom plug for recharging and for quiet.)

Last Tuesday evening, I was really tired, and turned in at 9:00, after setting the phone’s alarm and plugging it in. I snuggled under the covers and went right to sleep. At some time later, I was jolted awake with a loud clang noise and a very bright flash of light, coming from just above my head. I quickly reached for the phone and pulled it down. That sort of commotion is usually caused by an Amber Alert or a bad weather alert.

I looked at the screen, and, seriously, this is the information I got: a three or four sentence recap of the Democratic Debates. IT WAS MIDNIGHT!

I certainly want to be an informed citizen, but, Apple guys, I can wait until morning!

Then, of course, I plugged the phone back in to its power source, up there on the window sill, and snuggled back onto my pillows and under the covers . . . where I tossed and turned for an hour. Or more. I guess I could have gotten up and made a nice cup of hot, decaf tea. I could have gone into the bathroom and, in the quiet and warmth of that space, read for a while. However, I wanted to go back to sleep. So I kept trying. And kept trying. And kept trying.

I don’t know when I went back to sleep. I was making an effort to not look at the clock, because not being asleep at 1:00, at 1:30, at 2:00, at 2:30, etc. was just going to make me feel angrier and sleepier. If I didn’t look at the clock, then I could imagine that it might only be 12:20, or 12:25, or at the very latest 12:40, which, of course, it was NOT.

I did finally go back to sleep, whenever it was. And I slept deeply, I think, because I was seriously startled when the phone alarm kept going on and on and on, with it’s little beeping sound. What IS that annoying, unending, beeping clamor?!?!? Oh, yeah, the phone. And I got up. At 7:15, or so.

 

Complain if you must, but don’t lash out.
Keep your mouth shut, and let your heart do the talking.
Build your case before God and wait for his verdict.

At day’s end I’m ready for sound sleep,
For you, God, have put my life back together.

Psalm 4:4, 5, 8 (The Message)

 

 

Here’s my phone, up on the windowsill, charging up, and getting ready for tomorrow’s new day, hopefully after I’ve had a nice, uneventful slumber, what with my life being put back together and all.

 

In the Air. Left Hanging.

| Patience, Self-Control

I remember my first airplane trip.

My Dad traveled every other week for a great deal of my growing up years. He would leave on Monday mornings and return on Thursday evenings. He worked for the Veteran’s Administration (as it was known then, now Veteran’s Affairs). He was a Field Examiner and traveled to meet with veterans who were too far from an office to make regular visits. I’m not sure where all he went. I think he had an East Texas route. And I’m sure that he went to Austin.

One summer, we made a family vacation out of one of his trips. He stayed in the same motel for every Austin visit, and he was glad for the motel manager to meet his family and for us to meet her and to see where he spent so much time each month. And, it had a pool! It seems like we stayed two or three days, and did some visiting around Austin. Then, oh, yes, indeed, Mother and JoAnne and I flew home to Waco. JoAnne’s and my first airplane trip.

I don’t remember a whole lot about it, except that we got served breakfast. A real  breakfast. Eggs and toast and bacon. And cigarettes. There was a small carton of cigarettes on each tray. We collected all three of ours to hand over to the friend, a smoker, who was picking us up from the airport. Different times.

The stewardess came over to ask if I’d like to see the cockpit, but before we could make that visit, she realized that we didn’t have time. That trip from Austin to Waco, a hundred miles, wasn’t long enough. But, we got some pilot’s wings to wear.

 

I’ve done quite a bit of plane travel over the past years, mostly going to do training conferences in churches for preschool Sunday School and weekday teachers. But sometimes I was flying out to visit friends and family. Plane travel has changed a lot in those years. I remember when, not only did I get a hot meal, I got to choose if I wanted beef or chicken. I remember when they just handed you earphones to hear the movie.

Once, I was traveling to Nashville, along with other friends who were also going to a writers’ conference. The plane was a big one, with rows of three seats, five seats, and three seats across. It must have been a plane that needed to get to Nashville to ferry a much larger group of people. We had whole rows all to ourselves. It was great! (And we got a nice meal.)

Planes are different now. The rows are closer together, the seats themselves seem more narrow, and if I want any nourishment, I’d better bring it myself.

I like a window seat, only partly because of the window. I guess having the window makes that seat seem less crowded, with that light and open-seeming space next to me. Mainly, people aren’t trying to climb over me if they need to get to the aisle. If I’m napping, I’m less likely to be bothered when I’m sitting by a window. There are drawbacks, but I avoid drinking too much water for quite a while before boarding and always make that “as late as possible” trip to the bathroom.

On my last plane trip, I enjoyed the, um, entertainment center, I guess, on the back of the seat in front of me. It had several music choices and there were a couple of movies. So, I had only to put in my earbuds to have something to listen to. I didn’t watch a movie, because it was already in progress by time I figured out everything, and anyway, I was reading the airline magazine and doing the crossword puzzle. As we neared DFW, a flight attendant began giving us our “prepare for landing” guidelines. Seat backs up. Tray tables stowed. Check for possessions. Gather up trash to hand over to attendants. All that sort of thing.

And then she said, “Return head and footrests to their stowed position.” Headrests? Footrests? Seriously!!!

Yes, there were First-Class passengers on this plane. Maybe eight of them. Maybe twelve? And the scores and scores of the rest of us! She could have very easily walked by each of those First-Class rows and quietly said to them, “Headrest and footrests stowed, please. Thank you.” And not reminded the rest of us that we were Second class folks. Or less.

 

Remind them to be subject to rulers and authorities, to be obedient, to be ready for every good work, to speak evil of no one, to avoid quarreling, to be gentle, and to show every courtesy to everyone.

Titus 3:1-2 (New Revised Standard Version)

Meanwhile, we’re approaching an event’s anniversary that still makes my stomach tighten. October 14, marks the beginning of the Cuban Missile Crisis in 1962. It lasted thirteen days, and happened when my Dad was still traveling for work. He was only gone for four days, every other week, so he wasn’t away that whole time. But, I do remember that he was away for part of it. I have never been so scared.

Some neighbors in the next block up from us were so very concerned that, after that particular crisis was over, they had a bomb shelter installed in their back yard. We kids in the neighborhood called it “Big John,” which was a popular song at the time, and the thing looked like the grave of a very large person. It’s still there. I drive by it a couple of times a day. Every now and then, I consider dropping by and asking the current homeowners what they are doing with it, now. Maybe it’s still all stocked up and waiting for a disaster.

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.

 

 

Trying to Get It All Done

| Joy, Patience

How hard can it be, hmmm? There are errands, there are places to go, there are lists. And, there is time. So one would think.

Somewhere, some time . . . in school, I think, I heard the maxim “Plan your work and work your plan.” It sounds so easy. Maybe it is easy. Or, when I was a younger woman, it might have been easy.

“Everyone has the same number of hours in a day.” Hah! It just seems that way, until I try to manage those hours. Then they seem elusive.

 

I have had these jasmine plants for a few weeks, and finally got them in the ground.

1. Make bed. Get dressed. Have breakfast. Run a time-sensitive errand. Go home.

 

2. Change into yard-working clothes. Hurry outside to try to get some yard work done before the temperature rises. Plant some plants. While listening to podcasts. I can’t determine if the podcasts make the planting go more slowly, or does the planting interfere with getting the most out of the podcasts. Move to the front yard to hand-water the plants in front of the porch, because the sprinklers don’t get to them. And, while they are warm-weather plants, they do need some water.

 

3. Go inside. Do some mealtime preparation, well, after carefully washing my hands, which have been inside gardening gloves, but are still pretty dirty. Work to ferret out the remainders of food that is left from last week’s guests. Yes, that lettuce is too limp. Those tomatoes are too old. The blueberries seem all right. The sugar snap peas seem to be just on the edge of all right. Looks like salad for dinner.

 

4. Have a grilled cheese sandwich while working an online jigsaw puzzle.

 

5. Check e-mails, calendar.

 

The bag I have carried to and from church for many, many years. It has held up pretty well. I have had to replace the handles twice.

 

 

6. Change from yard-working clothes back to going-out-in-public clothes. Last Sunday, I was so weary from the previous very busy week (see Apostille and Crayola), that, on Sunday, I went right home after Sunday School, and forgot to pick up the bag I use to tote stuff back and forth from church. I needed to go get it, and this afternoon seemed like the best time. Also, I needed to pick up the literature for the new fall quarter. And, the church office closes at 3:00 p.m., so I needed to get on over there. I made it in time, got my bag, looked in several places for the literature, asked a couple of people, and no one knew where it was. I’ll have to go back tomorrow.

 

 

 

7. Back home. Change back into yard clothes. The sun has moved on to the front of the house and the patio is now in shade. It’s not really cool out there,  but it’s not blazing.

8. Sweep all the dirt and debris from the patio, clean up out there. Go inside and straight to the shower.

9. Write blog. Add photos. Thank God.

10. Eat that salad.

11. Maybe I’ll read a little.

12. Go to bed.

 

Within your heart you can make plans for your future,
but the Lord chooses the steps you take to get there.

Proverbs 16:9 (The Passion Translation)

We plan the way we want to live,
    but only God makes us able to live it.

Proverbs 16:9 (The Message)

 

 

Lord, our Lord, how majestic is your name in all the earth! (Psalm 8:1a) Thank You for my home, thank You for my family (at home and at church), thank You for each day that I can wake up (and get up), and thank You for Your unfailing love.

Make me an instrument of Your Peace. (St. Francis)

 

 

 

Crayola Wonderful World of Color!

| Joy, Patience

Last week, my sister JoAnne came, along with her sister-in-law (for a night). Then, we washed and changed sheets, and on Sunday, Kevin, April, and Peter came, bringing with them, Jeremy, who flew in the day before. Such a great time with so much of the family with us. We FaceTimed with Natalie, all the way in Nicaragua. We had strawberry shortcake for dinner (a tradition from my Dad’s mom). That night, all the beds had occupants, in addition to a couple of inflatable mattresses with sleepers.

Monday, we played games through the day and into the evening, and had Schmaltz’s for lunch (we’re trying to incorporate all the family traditions). Tuesday, we went to Butter my Biscuit for lunch (we also like to start new traditions). We were going to cook out, but nobody really wanted to spend any time at all outdoors in the sweltering heat, so we broiled those hot dogs in the oven.

Wednesday morning, we got up early and Jeremy and Peter and I took JoAnne to DFW airport, to fly back home to Everett, Washington. (She says, at the last minute, the plane couldn’t land in the smaller Paine Field, due to fog. They had to fly on to SEATAC to land and refuel before flying back to Everett. Arrival was 3 hours late. Kevin suggests that planes allow all passengers to carry a ziplock bag of jet fuel with them, so the plane could be refueled in midair.)

After leaving JoAnne at the airport, Jeremy and Peter and I went to Plano to a mall, where, per JoAnne’s sister-in-law, there was an interesting place called The Crayola Experience. She’d taken her great-nephew there and he’d enjoyed it. And, oh, my, it is pretty nifty.

We put all the crayons (and there were several) in a bag that we had gotten when we came in, as the Crayola Experience knew that we’d be taking home quite a bit of stuff.

 

There is a playscape area where kids can also climb and slide and bounce, bounce, bounce, when they need a P.E. break.

There was a little theater that had some animated crayons that talked about crayon-creating. There were some crayon-creating apparatus at the front of the theater, too. Then, after the crayons said their information, an actual human being came out and showed us how the melting machine worked and how the crayons came out of the liquid wax and became actual crayons. And, when we left, we got actual crayons (but not the ones that had just been made).

 

 

There were a couple of places to purchase food. For lunch, I had a salad, Jeremy had chicken strips, and Peter had a slice of cheese pizza. We shared an order of onion rings. So, snack sorts of food, but, folks don’t really go to the Crayola Experience for good food, do they.

 

We had received a few tokens when we went in. They paid for the crayon wrapping area, and the Model Magic. Most things didn’t require any extra payment. The panning area did. There were four sizes of bags, ranging from $7.98 to $24.98. I told Peter I would pay for the $7.98 bag or the $9.98 bag. He graciously chose the less expensive one. He’s been really interested in panning for stones, lately, and this was, I think, his most favorite activity.

 

 

I suppose that most folks don’t spend much time evaluating crayons, unless they’re involved in making art, but, as a person who’s spent years working with young children, I can tell you that Crayola crayons are really and truly much better than other crayons. The cheaper the crayon, the less effective it is. Crayola crayons last longer, cover more effectively, and melt much better. One thing that preschool teachers sometimes do is to melt down crayon stubs and broken crayon pieces (in an old muffin tin, or a foil baking cup in a muffin tin) to make chunky crayons for drawing. Inexpensive crayons melt unevenly, and often the ingredients separate into a waxy clear part and a uneven color part.

When I was getting ready for collage day at Fun with Friends this summer, I went through a big box of broken crayons at church. I threw away any non-Crayola crayon. I found lots of the colors I wanted, all in Crayola versions. I took them home and removed whatever papers were still on them. I actually have an electric crayon sharpener (like an electric pencil sharpener, but made for crayons). I spent a few hours, shaving down the pieces to make crayon scraps.

I had this station in the hallway, with an extension cord on an iron (set very low). My plan was to take only one kid at a time out to this table to make a crayon shaving design on a piece of waxed paper. Then I would cover it with another piece of waxed paper and iron over it. It’s pretty interesting to see how all the colors melt and mix. When he took his melted crayon design back into the room, not only did every other kid want to do it, but they all gathered by the table to watch everyone else’s designs melt together. Lower-priced brands of crayons do not do this well.

 

“Here is a simple rule of thumb for behavior: Ask yourself what you want people to do for you; then grab the initiative and do it for them!

Luke 6:31 (The Message)

 

 

We often look for quality in the things we purchase, the books and papers we read, the movies we watch. We want quality in the fresh food we purchase, the clothing we buy, and the vehicles we drive. If we value quality in the things around us for which we seek, we should also seek to be the quality people that other folks observe.