Reflections in Review

Today I took a tour of the old home town. I didn't really mean to do so, only I think I zigged when I should have zagged and I ended up in a section of Pittsburgh I haven't been to for more than twenty years. It was fun! It was funny to recognize parks, and streets and remember looking for an apartment over a bar that smelled just like rotten apples I drove past a park that Gus and Yaya were legends and sold snow cones. I stumbled upon the Steelers Stadium and Pirates Stadium and I feel in love with the skyline again. It was a fun trip, though none of it is exactly as it was twenty years ago.

This is entirely appropriate. I am not exactly as I was twenty years ago. It would have been sort of strange to have found the place in a frozen state of time, just waiting for me to stumble back. I liked finding a few memories though. I liked discovering though that they still have a place for me. Somewhere amidst all the new construction and road design, the shopping centers that have moved in and the businesses that replaced the old ones, I caught sight of a memory or two.

There, where Walgreen's now stands proudly on the corner which now boasts a stoplight, used to stand a Dairy Queen. It was a landmark not only for the wonderful taste treats and the hanging out in the parking lot, but also because they employed me for a summer. Only they paid me less than minimum wage because I was a trainee. I stayed a trainee all summer. Go figure. I think I still won that particular war though because they may not have paid me well, but I ate my weight in brownies and ice cream and various and sundry food items. Like the deep fried mushrooms. Yum. This is the place where a very large muscular man once dumped a blizzard on the counter because according to the advertising you should be able to turn over the cup and it should stay put. The guy who was working with me made the blizzard and turned white when it went all over the counter. He stood looking at me with horror said repeatedly, what do I do now, what do I do now? I said, make him another one... I don't think we said duh in those days. But we no doubt thought it.

I drove past the Salvation Army Harbor Light's Center, or at least where it used to be. I didn't see it. I remember working there though! I was the
receptionist/bookkeeper for a year. It was an interesting job, to say the least. Perhaps the best story was the guy who was staying at the center named Jesse. He wrote me love notes every morning and offered to make me the mother of nations. I think it was when he left me a kiss puff that his lips had brushed against 100 times that he was sent for psychiatric evaluation. Or maybe the man who came in and told me that he had delivered babies during the Vietnam War. I thought he was fairly sane until he told me that when women who are older have babies, they are born with teeth and he had a scar from being bitten. That's when I called the Vets Admin and told them I had one of theirs.

Or perhaps the park, just down the street from where the Center had been. It looked remarkably the same with the same exercise equipment and playground. I remembered visiting it at lunch time and seeing a homeless man, in a huge tee shirt and large baggy sweatpants taking food from the garbage can. I remember watching and thinking this must be as down and out as you could get, not only eating others trash but picking for it in broad daylight. I was a baby in those days, very naive and innocent about much in life, strangely wise and experienced in others. I think back to what I knew then and what I didn't know, and I am astonished that much of me is very like the ever so young lady trying to start adult life. I still am somewhat naive and innocent about somethings, very wise and experienced about others. Time has changed the areas but not the outlook.

I am remembering memories I have intentionally remembered before. Some are like old wounds that from time to time I poke to see if they still hurt. Some do, some have healed up and just a scar remains to remind me of the injury. I am grateful for the healing, wondering if a time comes when all is healed and no emotional response is stirred. I hope so.

I am sitting in the home where I grew up. I cannot imagine how it is that we put six people in this tiny house with one bathroom. I stand in my bedroom and think not only did I fit into this room with all my worldly possessions, my sister did too.
One bathroom, think about that?! And we weren't alone, I had only one friend with two bathrooms and that wasn't until we were in high school and her parents remodeled.
I remember sitting on the bedroom, hiding with my back to the dresser, feet on the heat vent and book in hand. I guess that was what we considered personal space. I also remembered that when you took a bath you had to pull the curtain a lot so that other family members could use the facilities. This no doubt lead to my phobia of going to the bathroom in groups. And I remember my siblings and I going to bed and chatting with one another. This didn't last long, my older siblings being MUCH older (my emphasis not theirs) were away from home before too long, but for a few years we used to fall asleep being goofy and making fun of our next door neighbor, Gil Capone, whom we did not like.

I have recently become a fan of a contemporary worship song that contains the line, 'who I am is who I've been'. I discover this is true, I am who I have been. But not only who I have been. I had a professor tell me that our roots are God's gift to us, not always perhaps what we would have wished but foundational to what God will do. Our choice is to live in a way that reflects God's glory through them, or to shut the door. I think it's a good time to shine the light and watch the glory.

Christmas Traditions

It's that delightful moment on Christmas morning. The presents are unwrapped and everyone is happy and enjoying their gifts. The ham is in the oven and it's Christmas nap time. I love Christmas nap time. It is the best nap of the year. It's that wonderful, my responsibilities are finished, I am free moment when there is nothing left that has to be done but rest. It doesn't last long, it's a small block of time between the unwrapping and the dinner preparations, but it is wonderful.

The Christmas nap is a custom that has long been handed down in my family. My parents would get up with us at the crack of dawn, or prior to the crack of dawn,watch us unwrap all of our wonderful presents and then go back to bed. As the years went by, we all got up, all unwrapped and all went back to bed, or at least my sister and I did. When my kids got old enough to be up without me I would be back in bed the minute the tape was off the last gift and all the ohhhh's and ahhhh's had faded. It is a tradition that should be practiced by all. Many times extended family has called our home and talked to the husband while I was snoozing away. I don't know why they didn't know it was time to sleep. Good thing he doesn't need to nap as long as I do.


I personally prefer the holiday tradition where the Christmas nap is followed by the Christmas bath. This is not for cleanliness purposes. This is for lying in soft warm soapy water, book in hand and the family locked on the other side of the door. "Honey, the house is on fire!" "That's okay, this is the way I want to go."
The book that always goes with me on Christmas is Will Mrs. Major Go to Hell? which is a collection of writings by Aloise Buckley Heath. My parents got this book for me a long time ago because they thought she was someone I would enjoy and would relate to, and they were completely right. There is much in her writings that I identify completely with, and get tickled by and think I know this person, she is living my life!!! It is the perfect Christmas read. It has no profound truth, it inspires no response but total enjoyment. Ah, the rest to simply enjoy without agenda. Who would have thought such a thing still existed?! I think the secret lays in the date it was written, while I was in my infancy. I think it explains a lot.

The book also makes me think of my dad. My dad loved this book and wanted me to share his enthusiasm, which was easy. I think that's how it is some time when you have a strong response to things. You want others to feel the same way and it's so comforting when they do. I will read something that makes me giggle and I wish for my dad because he would giggle too. He has been gone for a long time, I think this is the 10th Christmas, but Mrs. Major makes him very alive to me. I can see his eyes twinkle when he tells you something he enjoys. I like to think that in eternity with God, his eyes sparkle all the time.

Another wonderful Christmas tradition we need to celebrate is the giving and receiving of homemade goodies. I mean when others give them to me and I receive. This is a wonderful thing and I am concerned it could be fading. You people out there need to hold fast to these traditions. I cannot make fudge or all those wonderful Christmas cookies. I need you to keep this up!

The tradition that means the most to me is in the week that follow Christmas in preparation of the New Year. I always take some time and try to reflect on the changes in my children over the last year. To think about all God has done in our lives, to see all the ground we covered and to celebrate some of the successes. I try to make a record of funny things people have said, times when I got teary or was surprised by God's grace. I want to savor the gifts in the last year so I can remember to take them with me into the next.

There are lots of traditions that make this season magical. I would write more but we are cutting into the nap/bath and this cannot be permitted. May this day fill you with the awe and wonderful of a God so big and so powerful yet loving His creation so much that He became a part of it, to show us the way home. And as you celebrate take a moment to say thank you, and enjoy His sabbath rest.

Sliding In

We are in the midst of defrosting from an ice storm. We got ice first, snow afterwards and it made for a royal mess. We have more snow equipment now than when I arrived in Kentucky more than ten years ago. I can remember the first year here when a little snow, blowing across the road was a big problem. Born and raised in Pittsburgh, PA, I know how to do snow. I know how to do ice too, you stay home! I know when you are sliding you are supposed to turn into the slide and there was a time when I didn't even have to think about it, I just did it naturally. I am out of practice now. I wonder if the instincts would kick in.

Yesterday, after the main roads were cleared, I went into work, taking Mr. Sam along since schools are still closed. We had no troubles getting in until we hit the church parking lot. It was solid ice and would have been funny had I not wondered how we were going to get from the car to the building. My car has all wheel drive and I have always been impressed by this but never used this feature until we hit the parking lot. It came in very handy then!

Our policy is to park away from the building and allow visitors to take the spaces closer in. I violated this policy with no guilt whatsoever. I would have driven up to the door but with all the ice, I thought it entirely possible the car would slide right through the door. While this would have solved my walking on ice dilemma, I suspected the trustees would be vocal about a car in the hallway. They are mighty particular.

Mr. Sam and I began the cautious journey into the building. It was less than 15 feet. It took about three hours. Okay, that is an exaggeration, but we were taking baby steps followed by a lot of 'ohhhhh's as we slid and lost footing and giggled at our slow progress. I could see the news feed. Women breaks leg in icy parking lot, trustees say it was her own darn fault. I suppose it would have been.

When I feel out of control, I have the same kind of reaction going on in my head and my tummy. Regardless of the circumstance, it's a very uncomfortable feeling to be unable to take a sure step, to feel that the ground I thought was secure is sliding away from beneath me. It isn't often due to ice, it is much more likely to be a new situation, a problem I thought I had resolved, a matter of faith. When control goes and I am dependent on baby steps, a lot of sliding and a good chuckle or two, I remember that God is really always in control. Sometimes, because I think the ground is solid and I think I know what I am doing, I am deluded into believing I am in control. I am not sure a little ice storm is a bad thing every once in awhile. I need reminding. I bet I have company.

Discovering one's gifts

I have discovered a new thing about myself. I have learned that cooking for lots of people is just like organizing an event, or a Wednesday night program or a trip with a group of women. It takes details, it takes a good plan that is flexible to adapt to change. It takes a firm smile, gentle direction and a confident attitude so people believe you know what you are talking about. A great sense of humor will not hurt either.

Through a series of events, which are pointless, I was forced to cook a meal for about 200 hundred people over two nights for our church Christmas dinner. This is not my gift. This is certainly not my interest and it really is not my job. It is my job to see that it is done and it was too late to get someone else to do it, so I did.

I did this the only way I know how. I asked for help, I begged for help really. I got help in choosing a menu. Many people voted on what we should cook and finally we agreed to a couple of recipes. Then I carefully made my list of groceries I would need, bought then, brought them in and put them away. Organization. I like it!

Then the cooking began. Much of this I enjoyed too. More help was rounded up, my friend rode in with recipes in hand. I followed direction, assembled, melted, stirred and at the end of the day I had this sense of control and clarity and purpose. It was good. I felt good. Life was good! Next day, more help, more directions, more good feelings. Whew, we are going to make it work. Off to lunch, rest, buy more supplies and back again. Only when I get back something has gone astray. Yes, what should be cooked is not. What should be coming out is staying put and what should be going in cannot. Oh dear, oh me oh my. I am in a cold panic and I cannot think what to do. In to the rescue rides another source of help, a lady from the church who caters for a living. I don't know exactly what she did, but she took a boat that had clearly hit an iceberg and was slowly sinking, healed us up and got us into shore.

Don't you think for even a moment I wasn't taking notes and giving thanks. By the end of the evening, the food was good, the kitchen was clean and all was well with the world. Except for the huge cloud that was following me around saying, you have to do it again tomorrow, you have to do it again tomorrow...But I had learned my lesson. I planned my game with care and started two hours earlier than anyone told me to start. I gave myself all kinds of wiggle room. I got great help again, I got things organized so they made sense to me and we stayed on time and with no skirmishes and panic attacks. The food got out, people ate again and the kitchen was cleaned one more time. I heard no complaints about food. It was all consumed and I was done! Hurray!

I do not think this is my gift. I do not like it much, it stresses me to no end. But organization, direction, game plan, this I love. Cooking is this. It's a form of art for some people. I am not an artist, but I can take ingredients and organize them into something that tastes fairly good. Even when I am not sure why. Knowing what you need and how long you need and what things go well together is probably an ingrained gift for some. Not me. But give me the stuff I need to get, the time to get it done and a wise person to show me a time or two what to do and I can do it. I am not sure cleaning is ever going to be my talent, but let's be honest. I can live without it, you know what I mean?

Stepping out of my comfort zone and into the mysterious world of Martha Stewart, where my confidence level is subzero and my ability not much more, was a stretching experience. It wasn't my first choice, but I know how to do it now. I know exactly what you do, you call and find a caterer. And you show up early to lend a helping hands with the cooking, someone else purchases all the supplies. At the appointed hour you go sit down, food appears and you can enjoy it. If you have to do more than this, I think you need to do exactly what I was taught to do. Start early and pray without ceasing.

A lesson in humility

I am a very bad note writer. I do not know why this is true of me, but it is. I don't know if I am short a gene, if I have some mental block, if I am just too darn shallow to be able to consider others, I do not know. I only know that I am very bad at it. If I have written you a note, sent you a card, remembered an event, you should absolutely save this. It is a collectors item and will be worth huge sums of money, if anyone will ever be brought to see the the value, as it is a limited edition.

I really cannot see how anyone would be encouraged by my notes. I think of someone I love, knowing how much they are grieving the passing of their spouse and how lonely it must be, and I just can't see how the little note I write will make a difference. I think it is an imposition to thrust myself into someone else's private life and think I have a word to inspire hope or companionship or whatever. I will send goofy notes if I happen upon one and remember to actually send it, once I bring it home. It is all so much for me. I promise I have tried. I took this project on for Lent on year. I would send one card a day to someone who needed it. I made it the first four days. I have done the card organizer, they look good I just don't use them. I have even written thank you notes, sealed them up and put the person's name on the envelope and because I didn't have the address they never got mailed. I know this because I was cleaning out a book bag from Wesley and there they were, from last January. If only those people would buy me the same gift I could send them this year. What is wrong with me?!

I have a friend who is a note writing expert. She is always the person who sends you a little love and tells you she is thinking of you. She is always the first one who will send me some encouragement, a sweet card, a goofy card, a loving reminder that I am not alone, or what I did was noticed or my place in God's kingdom has been affirmed by one other person anyway. She never forgets a birthday, she never forgets a major event, she is organized and thoughtful. I have tried to be like her. I have saved all the cards she has ever sent and I know this is a wonderful gift. She thinks it is a very simple thing to do and anyone can do it. Maybe anyone can, but I cannot. I have this big black hole of card writing that keeps me from being better at it.

Last night at the Secret Angel Dinner, the lady I was a secret angel for mentioned that there were times when her feelings were hurt because I hadn't written in a couple of months. She is a precious lady and I was so sorry to have hurt her feelings, and I said so immediately. I told her how bad I am at this and it was not a reflection on her at all but my ineptness. She was quick to say she felt that she had put me in an awkward place because she said she wanted to participate too late and I had to adopt her myself. Oh man, that was even worse. I assured that was not the case, that I just am so very bad at this. I am lower than lower, the very lowest of all. How horrible it is when one's weaknesses cause pain in others.

After one of those long evenings when her sweet little face just haunted the life out of me, I tossed and turned all night with thoughts of every person I know who needed a card and hasn't gotten one. I am ready for God to redeem this place in me. I know that I wont be different because I try harder, been there, done that and I have several tee shirts. I need God to help fill the black hole of whatever the disconnect is in there that makes me be so bad at it, and heal me up. As this is exactly what God does over and over and over again, I am at peace that He will do it here. This gives me hope, this morning I need some.