I am enjoying this summer and I think that is because of spending more time outside. Yes, I still spend quite a bit of each day inside of my air-conditioned house but it seems that gardening has gotten me outside more this summer than past summers. I have also been enjoying going for evening walks with my daughter and our dogs. Sometimes I get too cold in the house so I go outside on our deck and soak up some sun. It feels good to feel the hot deck under my feet and the sun toasting my arms and face---for a few minutes. Summer certainly gives me a better appreciation for cool breezes and cold water.
One nice thing about the heat of summer is that inspires us to give ourselves permission to be a little more laid back than usual. I sit down more frequently--on the deck--on the porch. I stay up late sometimes just because I can or I take a little nap during the drowsy heat of the day. I like to work outside in the mornings and even inside and then take things slow and easy until it cools down again. As long as there are refreshing showers close at hand it actually feels really good to sweat. Summer makes us more aware of expending energy and more aware of how good it feels to rest...It is lovely to get up with the sun (which can be hard after those late nights) and exercise or garden or clean house and then look forward to the long day unfolding and revealing its simple sunny pleasures under blue skies---ending the day with contented sighs mingled with the chirping of crickets to serenade us as we stroll beneath a canopy of stars. Yes, we need to be outside and see and hear and smell and touch the earth---and taste of its fruits--it gives us a feeling of wellness and completeness.
It looks like it is getting ready to storm. I have been looking out my window as I type and watching the clouds gather and the trees blow in the wind. I think as an inlander I find as much pleasure in watching the movement of the trees and listening to their leaves move in the breeze as anyone who lives on the coast finds in watching and listening to the ocean.
I just heard some rumblings of thunder. Rainstorms are great in the summer too. I better not get started on how much I love a summer storm...
Happy Summer!
Wednesday, August 4, 2010
Thursday, July 22, 2010
What's In Your Shopping Cart?
Most recent garden lesson---as I was pinching off dead blooms from my flowering basket I was thinking that since the reason for doing that is to basically redirect the strength of the plant to producing new blooms then it would be good if we could do that with our thoughts---then I thought--we can , we do, we should! I too often will put my energy into negative thoughts that bear no good fruit and bring my life no beauty. I need to quickly pinch off those dead (end) thoughts and redirect my energy into good thoughts that will grow into good actions..then I will have more blossoming going on and more beauty in my life.
Yesterday I finally went 'big' grocery shopping which means that I make a list, gather coupons, replace storage items, and stock up on a few things. This means that it takes a lot of time and a chunk of cash. This is why I tend to put it off. Anyway, shopping went pretty well but I seemed to frequently run into (not literally thank heavens) the same woman while I was shopping and she ended up being in line just ahead of me. I like to make eye contact with people while I am shopping and see if I can get people to return my smile. I frequently do and that is very pleasant but this particular woman didn't seem to want to make eye contact--at least not long enough to see me smile at her. She did however look at the contents of my shopping cart a couple of times and for some reason that bothered me. Who knows, perhaps that woman is right at this very moment writing her blog about an annoying woman who kept looking at her in the grocery store and I probably should ponder what quirk it is in myself that causes me to be bugged when someone looks at what I have in my shopping cart but I think I would rather explore the possible reasons people have for looking in other people's shopping carts.
As I mentioned, when I go 'big' grocery shopping I replace storage items and stock up and try to get enough basics to last a couple of weeks so my shopping cart gets pretty full. I also have a tendency to worry about not having enough so I do often buy more than what we need. There have been several occasions when people have stared at my packed grocery cart as I struggle to push it around a corner and I have felt a little gluttonous but how do they know I'm not buying for a care center or something---or maybe I have eight kids---Of course I shop at my neighborhood grocery store so I almost always run into friends and neighbors and they normally don't look at the items in my cart. (Although if it is a friend who knows I am trying to eat healthy I do feel a bit guilty if I have more cookies and candy than I do carrots and yogurt in my cart) So why would we check out what other people are buying?
Maybe someone has an item in their cart that we were looking for but couldn't find. Maybe they have something in their cart that looks good---like something we would like to have for dinner or dessert or a snack. Maybe they have a lot of something in their cart that would indicate a sale that we would like to take advantage of---Perhaps it would lead to more efficient shopping if we occasionally looked at the items in other people's shopping carts. For instance, if someone has really white teeth maybe we should look to see what kind of toothpaste is in their cart. If we know someone as being a person who demands good quality maybe we should see what kind of toilet paper they're buying. If we see someone with lustrous hair then we should see what shampoo they're buying or if someone we know is well off financially maybe we could take a peek and see if they buy name brand or store brand.
I shouldn't be bugged by the woman looking in my cart. Maybe seeing what people buy could become an interesting and even productive habit. They say you can tell a lot about someone by what is in their trash--so I'm sure you can tell a lot about someone by what is in their shopping cart. Maybe the lady was just looking to see if she could see what could contribute to or explain my habit of smiling so much at strangers...
Yesterday I finally went 'big' grocery shopping which means that I make a list, gather coupons, replace storage items, and stock up on a few things. This means that it takes a lot of time and a chunk of cash. This is why I tend to put it off. Anyway, shopping went pretty well but I seemed to frequently run into (not literally thank heavens) the same woman while I was shopping and she ended up being in line just ahead of me. I like to make eye contact with people while I am shopping and see if I can get people to return my smile. I frequently do and that is very pleasant but this particular woman didn't seem to want to make eye contact--at least not long enough to see me smile at her. She did however look at the contents of my shopping cart a couple of times and for some reason that bothered me. Who knows, perhaps that woman is right at this very moment writing her blog about an annoying woman who kept looking at her in the grocery store and I probably should ponder what quirk it is in myself that causes me to be bugged when someone looks at what I have in my shopping cart but I think I would rather explore the possible reasons people have for looking in other people's shopping carts.
As I mentioned, when I go 'big' grocery shopping I replace storage items and stock up and try to get enough basics to last a couple of weeks so my shopping cart gets pretty full. I also have a tendency to worry about not having enough so I do often buy more than what we need. There have been several occasions when people have stared at my packed grocery cart as I struggle to push it around a corner and I have felt a little gluttonous but how do they know I'm not buying for a care center or something---or maybe I have eight kids---Of course I shop at my neighborhood grocery store so I almost always run into friends and neighbors and they normally don't look at the items in my cart. (Although if it is a friend who knows I am trying to eat healthy I do feel a bit guilty if I have more cookies and candy than I do carrots and yogurt in my cart) So why would we check out what other people are buying?
Maybe someone has an item in their cart that we were looking for but couldn't find. Maybe they have something in their cart that looks good---like something we would like to have for dinner or dessert or a snack. Maybe they have a lot of something in their cart that would indicate a sale that we would like to take advantage of---Perhaps it would lead to more efficient shopping if we occasionally looked at the items in other people's shopping carts. For instance, if someone has really white teeth maybe we should look to see what kind of toothpaste is in their cart. If we know someone as being a person who demands good quality maybe we should see what kind of toilet paper they're buying. If we see someone with lustrous hair then we should see what shampoo they're buying or if someone we know is well off financially maybe we could take a peek and see if they buy name brand or store brand.
I shouldn't be bugged by the woman looking in my cart. Maybe seeing what people buy could become an interesting and even productive habit. They say you can tell a lot about someone by what is in their trash--so I'm sure you can tell a lot about someone by what is in their shopping cart. Maybe the lady was just looking to see if she could see what could contribute to or explain my habit of smiling so much at strangers...
Tuesday, July 20, 2010
Fear---of Falling---of Failing
Wow it's been 2 weeks since I have written anything. I wonder if anyone has noticed???
Anyway...I have had a lot of thoughts darting around my mind looking for a spot to land to I will try and land them here and now.
First of all I forgot to mention in my last blog, which was itself a mishmash of thoughts, that I purchased some pinwheels to put on my garden fence. It adds a touch of whimsy that makes my heart smile. They are different colors and metallic so they catch the rays of the sun as well as the breeze. Something in me feels a kinship with things that are whimsical--perhaps because they have to do with the imagination--I looked up whimsy in the dictionary and wasn't really satisfied with the definition--but it is one of those words that the definition is more felt than read...
I have been thinking about fine lines lately, not the kind that women my age try to minimize or conceal (I do confess to thinking about those though---if only we women could think of them as fine as in really nice) but the kind that people speak of walking---balancing on a border between two things that are either opposite or very close in nature--one of which is desirable and the other is not. For example I have heard it said that there is a fine line between madness and genius or a fine line between conceit and confidence. I was thinking specifically of the fine line between helping our children overcome fears and traumatizing them. The other day in a public restroom I overheard a little boy who started fussing upon entering the restroom about his not wanting to dry his hands with the air blowers. It soon became apparent that he was very fearful of the loud noise the blowers make. He fretted the whole time he and his mother were in the restroom. His mother kept reassuring him that she had wipes that he could use to wash his hands so he would not have to use the air blower. She kept telling him he would be fine. I couldn't help but give a knowing smile because of the many memories I had of dealing with my own children's fears.
Sometimes as parents we downplay our children's fears--we sometimes even chide them or laugh. Why? We all have fears, some rational some not. When I was young we lived in a city where houses were built on hills and very often we would go for drives. I remember at least once when we were going down a steep hill and I couldn't see beyond the top of the hill that I was terrified that we were going to drive off the edge of the hillside and fall to our deaths. It sounds like an odd fear but it was very real and terrifying to me. I should have known that my dad wouldn't drive us off the edge of a cliff but fear tramples trust just as easily and completely as it crumples common sense. I think as parents our responsibility to instruct and discipline weighs so heavily on us that it can throw us off balance and we forget about our responsibility to nurture and love. Of course the scales can lean too far in the opposite direction sometimes too. The mother in the restroom could have forced her son to dry his hands under the noisy air blower in order to help him overcome his fear but in doing so she could have run the risk of making him forever afraid of air blowing hand dryers. That mother was wise and probably knew that giving her son some time to mature would take care of things so she just told him there was nothing to be afraid of but didn't push him. As parents we often walk fine lines. We don't want to push fears too deep while trying to help our children overcome them. It's kind of like getting a sliver out. Maybe sometimes what we perceive to be fine lines are really not that fine at all if we keep things in balance...
We went to a local amusement park last Saturday as part of my husband's company summer party. It had been over ten years since I had been there. I had intended to ride a few tame rides with my husband and maybe sip a cold drink while people-watching while our daughter and her friend went on the more exciting and popular rides. But something happened as I walked up to the ticket windows...I caught a glimpse of a new ride and I thought it looked like fun---the next thing I knew we were all waiting in line for that ride. I rationalized that rides don't last very long so I felt confidant that I could just hold on tight and close my eyes if necessary and survive a few terrifying minutes. The ride was crazy. It involved going up and down and sideways like a roller coaster but the individual cars would spin around at the same time so when you reached the top of a hill you would spin and it would look like you were flying off of the track (I've come a long way from being afraid of driving down steep hills). It made me feel a bit like a toy in a dog's mouth being shaken around but it was kind of fun and we moved on to the next adventure which happened to be a ride that involved going straight up a high hill (are they called hills on roller coasters---seems there should be a better word) and then straight down and on to sharp twists and turns that involved going upside down. You didn't climb the hill on this ride---you were shot up it out of a very brief tunnel. When we were waiting in line I kept looking for people who looked my age or older to reassure me somehow. I didn't really find any--well maybe just one or two. I did get a little worried about the signs on all of the rides we went on that said that pregnant women and elderly persons should not ride. Thankfully I didn't have to worry about the pregnant part (that would be much scarier at this point in my life than any extreme ride) but am I considered elderly? My kids sometimes say I'm old--I am really middle-aged--although I am precise when it comes to numbers and I can only really be middle aged if I live to be over 100--it could happen! You're only as old as you feel and when I felt the desire for fun kind of bubble up inside of me when I reached the ticket window I felt pretty darn young. Anyway we ended up being in the very front car for the ride which meant we got the best view of hurtling to the ground. After being properly restrained we waited while there seemed to be some sort of problem with the ride. That is always consoling in these kinds of situations. There I sat trapped in my seat while the ride operator looked at the computer console with a troubled look on his face and spoke to someone on a phone! The operators of the rides frequently look young enough that their parents still have a hard time trusting them with the family car but there I was--a potentially elderly person putting my life in their hands. I kept looking at the operator trying to tell him with my eyes (I think I might have told him with my mouth too) that if he had any doubts at all about the safety of ride then please do not send us on... Well we went and things were okay---crazy and wild--but okay. I kept my eyes open most of time and the ride even reached my laughing place. When I got off I felt almost giddy at having survived and I felt a little cooler and a little younger than when I got on. Much to my surprise I admitted that I wouldn't mind riding that ride again.
While waiting in line and almost melting in the sun I couldn't help but wonder about what human beings come up with for entertainment. We get on contraptions that spin and throw and bounce us around, that make our most recent meal soar up to our throats and our hearts thump wildly, and we call it fun and even pay money. My husband is a very good sport and rode all of the rides I did except one. As long as I could hear him laughing in the face of death I knew I was okay. We had a fun time and I was an interesting mixture of exhausted and enlivened. Our teenage daughter and her friend were tired but the difference between teenage tired and middle age tired is teenage tired goes away in a couple of hours but middle age tired settles in and stays for a couple of days.
The morning of our adventure ---several hours before my brief moments of rather tame daring---a young scout from Wisconsin died trying to jump the gap between two arches in Moab. That event has kind of haunted me. I experienced the sensation of falling when I rode the amusement park rides but I was strapped in and my chances of survival extremely good. I have had nightmares about falling off of high places and a part of me shudders as I imagine what it must be like to fall to your death. I looked at a picture of someone jumping the same gap and I could see how something like that could have tempted a young man of 18. It was only a 6 foot gap, other people had done it and survived. We all get dangerous impulses. We all make rash decisions. There have been times when I have done something stupid and immediately realized how dire the consequences of my actions could have been. Things like this are what scout leaders pray won't happen on their watch. Things like this are what parents don't want to think about when they send their children off on outings. My heart goes out to the young man's family and to those who were with him when he fell. It seems extra tragic that he made the jump but then lost his balance--at that moment did he realize he was taking his last breaths. Giving in to an impulse quickly ended a promising young life. It is so important most of the time to stop and think. I feel so sorry for all of the people--many of them young people--who end up being heart-wrenching examples of what can happen when you don't.
I think the expression that someone has fallen ill is interesting. It makes it sound like the person was walking along living life when they fell into a pot hole of bad health. Just yesterday someone I hardly knew passed away. It made me very sad. Doctors had found a brain tumor in January but they were observing it and last I heard it hadn't grown. She was Stake Young Women's leader in our stake. My daughter had just seen her at girl's camp last weekend and my daughter and I had recently agreed on what a neat lady she was. Then on Sunday we heard she was on life support and prayers were requested in her behalf. I don't know all of the details. It just seemed to happen so fast. People leave a space when they die--- a space that can be so hard to understand and accept.
I was talking this morning with a friend who cuts my hair and she said she is enjoying this summer because she is taking time to enjoy the warmth of the sun, taking time to watch the sun set. I have been complaining about the heat and looking forward to autumn. It seems we are always looking forward to something but then we complain about the way time goes by so quickly. I think we would do well to enjoy the moment--the season of the year--the season of our life.
Hopefully my thoughts have landed not too awkwardly. I think I will go out and watch the wind blow my pinwheels...
Anyway...I have had a lot of thoughts darting around my mind looking for a spot to land to I will try and land them here and now.
First of all I forgot to mention in my last blog, which was itself a mishmash of thoughts, that I purchased some pinwheels to put on my garden fence. It adds a touch of whimsy that makes my heart smile. They are different colors and metallic so they catch the rays of the sun as well as the breeze. Something in me feels a kinship with things that are whimsical--perhaps because they have to do with the imagination--I looked up whimsy in the dictionary and wasn't really satisfied with the definition--but it is one of those words that the definition is more felt than read...
I have been thinking about fine lines lately, not the kind that women my age try to minimize or conceal (I do confess to thinking about those though---if only we women could think of them as fine as in really nice) but the kind that people speak of walking---balancing on a border between two things that are either opposite or very close in nature--one of which is desirable and the other is not. For example I have heard it said that there is a fine line between madness and genius or a fine line between conceit and confidence. I was thinking specifically of the fine line between helping our children overcome fears and traumatizing them. The other day in a public restroom I overheard a little boy who started fussing upon entering the restroom about his not wanting to dry his hands with the air blowers. It soon became apparent that he was very fearful of the loud noise the blowers make. He fretted the whole time he and his mother were in the restroom. His mother kept reassuring him that she had wipes that he could use to wash his hands so he would not have to use the air blower. She kept telling him he would be fine. I couldn't help but give a knowing smile because of the many memories I had of dealing with my own children's fears.
Sometimes as parents we downplay our children's fears--we sometimes even chide them or laugh. Why? We all have fears, some rational some not. When I was young we lived in a city where houses were built on hills and very often we would go for drives. I remember at least once when we were going down a steep hill and I couldn't see beyond the top of the hill that I was terrified that we were going to drive off the edge of the hillside and fall to our deaths. It sounds like an odd fear but it was very real and terrifying to me. I should have known that my dad wouldn't drive us off the edge of a cliff but fear tramples trust just as easily and completely as it crumples common sense. I think as parents our responsibility to instruct and discipline weighs so heavily on us that it can throw us off balance and we forget about our responsibility to nurture and love. Of course the scales can lean too far in the opposite direction sometimes too. The mother in the restroom could have forced her son to dry his hands under the noisy air blower in order to help him overcome his fear but in doing so she could have run the risk of making him forever afraid of air blowing hand dryers. That mother was wise and probably knew that giving her son some time to mature would take care of things so she just told him there was nothing to be afraid of but didn't push him. As parents we often walk fine lines. We don't want to push fears too deep while trying to help our children overcome them. It's kind of like getting a sliver out. Maybe sometimes what we perceive to be fine lines are really not that fine at all if we keep things in balance...
We went to a local amusement park last Saturday as part of my husband's company summer party. It had been over ten years since I had been there. I had intended to ride a few tame rides with my husband and maybe sip a cold drink while people-watching while our daughter and her friend went on the more exciting and popular rides. But something happened as I walked up to the ticket windows...I caught a glimpse of a new ride and I thought it looked like fun---the next thing I knew we were all waiting in line for that ride. I rationalized that rides don't last very long so I felt confidant that I could just hold on tight and close my eyes if necessary and survive a few terrifying minutes. The ride was crazy. It involved going up and down and sideways like a roller coaster but the individual cars would spin around at the same time so when you reached the top of a hill you would spin and it would look like you were flying off of the track (I've come a long way from being afraid of driving down steep hills). It made me feel a bit like a toy in a dog's mouth being shaken around but it was kind of fun and we moved on to the next adventure which happened to be a ride that involved going straight up a high hill (are they called hills on roller coasters---seems there should be a better word) and then straight down and on to sharp twists and turns that involved going upside down. You didn't climb the hill on this ride---you were shot up it out of a very brief tunnel. When we were waiting in line I kept looking for people who looked my age or older to reassure me somehow. I didn't really find any--well maybe just one or two. I did get a little worried about the signs on all of the rides we went on that said that pregnant women and elderly persons should not ride. Thankfully I didn't have to worry about the pregnant part (that would be much scarier at this point in my life than any extreme ride) but am I considered elderly? My kids sometimes say I'm old--I am really middle-aged--although I am precise when it comes to numbers and I can only really be middle aged if I live to be over 100--it could happen! You're only as old as you feel and when I felt the desire for fun kind of bubble up inside of me when I reached the ticket window I felt pretty darn young. Anyway we ended up being in the very front car for the ride which meant we got the best view of hurtling to the ground. After being properly restrained we waited while there seemed to be some sort of problem with the ride. That is always consoling in these kinds of situations. There I sat trapped in my seat while the ride operator looked at the computer console with a troubled look on his face and spoke to someone on a phone! The operators of the rides frequently look young enough that their parents still have a hard time trusting them with the family car but there I was--a potentially elderly person putting my life in their hands. I kept looking at the operator trying to tell him with my eyes (I think I might have told him with my mouth too) that if he had any doubts at all about the safety of ride then please do not send us on... Well we went and things were okay---crazy and wild--but okay. I kept my eyes open most of time and the ride even reached my laughing place. When I got off I felt almost giddy at having survived and I felt a little cooler and a little younger than when I got on. Much to my surprise I admitted that I wouldn't mind riding that ride again.
While waiting in line and almost melting in the sun I couldn't help but wonder about what human beings come up with for entertainment. We get on contraptions that spin and throw and bounce us around, that make our most recent meal soar up to our throats and our hearts thump wildly, and we call it fun and even pay money. My husband is a very good sport and rode all of the rides I did except one. As long as I could hear him laughing in the face of death I knew I was okay. We had a fun time and I was an interesting mixture of exhausted and enlivened. Our teenage daughter and her friend were tired but the difference between teenage tired and middle age tired is teenage tired goes away in a couple of hours but middle age tired settles in and stays for a couple of days.
The morning of our adventure ---several hours before my brief moments of rather tame daring---a young scout from Wisconsin died trying to jump the gap between two arches in Moab. That event has kind of haunted me. I experienced the sensation of falling when I rode the amusement park rides but I was strapped in and my chances of survival extremely good. I have had nightmares about falling off of high places and a part of me shudders as I imagine what it must be like to fall to your death. I looked at a picture of someone jumping the same gap and I could see how something like that could have tempted a young man of 18. It was only a 6 foot gap, other people had done it and survived. We all get dangerous impulses. We all make rash decisions. There have been times when I have done something stupid and immediately realized how dire the consequences of my actions could have been. Things like this are what scout leaders pray won't happen on their watch. Things like this are what parents don't want to think about when they send their children off on outings. My heart goes out to the young man's family and to those who were with him when he fell. It seems extra tragic that he made the jump but then lost his balance--at that moment did he realize he was taking his last breaths. Giving in to an impulse quickly ended a promising young life. It is so important most of the time to stop and think. I feel so sorry for all of the people--many of them young people--who end up being heart-wrenching examples of what can happen when you don't.
I think the expression that someone has fallen ill is interesting. It makes it sound like the person was walking along living life when they fell into a pot hole of bad health. Just yesterday someone I hardly knew passed away. It made me very sad. Doctors had found a brain tumor in January but they were observing it and last I heard it hadn't grown. She was Stake Young Women's leader in our stake. My daughter had just seen her at girl's camp last weekend and my daughter and I had recently agreed on what a neat lady she was. Then on Sunday we heard she was on life support and prayers were requested in her behalf. I don't know all of the details. It just seemed to happen so fast. People leave a space when they die--- a space that can be so hard to understand and accept.
I was talking this morning with a friend who cuts my hair and she said she is enjoying this summer because she is taking time to enjoy the warmth of the sun, taking time to watch the sun set. I have been complaining about the heat and looking forward to autumn. It seems we are always looking forward to something but then we complain about the way time goes by so quickly. I think we would do well to enjoy the moment--the season of the year--the season of our life.
Hopefully my thoughts have landed not too awkwardly. I think I will go out and watch the wind blow my pinwheels...
Wednesday, July 7, 2010
S-more Food For Thought
This and That---
I got a piece of bead board to block off our living room from our dogs---to keep them from rushing the door when the doorbell rings and from furring the furniture when they lounge on it. So now we have scraped off paint from replacing the board and little digs in the paint and the wall from the board falling down. Now when someone comes to the door I just have to hurry and talk with them before the dogs knock down the board. Oh well, at least the board gives me a fighting chance to make it to the door before the dogs---the furniture is relatively free of dog hair and my window sheers are not getting snagged anymore--With dogs there are a lot of compromises made--- mostly on the part of the owner.
As part of our 4th of July barbecue I picked up some giant marshmallows. They are about 3 times the size of regular marshmallows and really fluffy. They called to me in the store. One marshmallow makes 2 very gooey smores (it could actually make 4). It has 90 calories and no fat---no nutritional value to speak of but a reasonable indulgence---until you put it with graham crackers and a chocolate bar of course. They already make giant chocolate bars so now all we need is giant graham crackers and we could have a major dietary splurge. Actually they need to come out with micro mini marshmallows and bite size graham cracker squares then I could put one teeny marshmallow and one chocolate chip in between two wee graham crackers and have a doll size smore that just maybe my middle age metabolism could burn off before it joined the fat convention around my middle.
Well my daughter and I are off to IKEA the store purposely designed like a maze so that you will find things to buy in order to take your mind off of your fear of never finding your way out. At least it is good exercise. Maybe I can walk off those giant marshmallows.
One more thought about gardens---I have been pulling up some pesky unidentified weedy looking plants that have been growing like crazy in one of my flower gardens. I finally realized yesterday that they might be starts of a plant that I planted in the garden. The early beginnings look different than the more mature plant. I am going to let them go for awhile and see what happens...The fact that plants can look a little 'weedy' or unruly for a time at first before turning into something nicer means there is hope for plants and people too!
I think my post holiday hot summer laziness has settled in. I just want to read and eat marshmallows. I need to do something more energetic and productive than racing my dogs to the front door and wandering IKEA...
I got a piece of bead board to block off our living room from our dogs---to keep them from rushing the door when the doorbell rings and from furring the furniture when they lounge on it. So now we have scraped off paint from replacing the board and little digs in the paint and the wall from the board falling down. Now when someone comes to the door I just have to hurry and talk with them before the dogs knock down the board. Oh well, at least the board gives me a fighting chance to make it to the door before the dogs---the furniture is relatively free of dog hair and my window sheers are not getting snagged anymore--With dogs there are a lot of compromises made--- mostly on the part of the owner.
As part of our 4th of July barbecue I picked up some giant marshmallows. They are about 3 times the size of regular marshmallows and really fluffy. They called to me in the store. One marshmallow makes 2 very gooey smores (it could actually make 4). It has 90 calories and no fat---no nutritional value to speak of but a reasonable indulgence---until you put it with graham crackers and a chocolate bar of course. They already make giant chocolate bars so now all we need is giant graham crackers and we could have a major dietary splurge. Actually they need to come out with micro mini marshmallows and bite size graham cracker squares then I could put one teeny marshmallow and one chocolate chip in between two wee graham crackers and have a doll size smore that just maybe my middle age metabolism could burn off before it joined the fat convention around my middle.
Well my daughter and I are off to IKEA the store purposely designed like a maze so that you will find things to buy in order to take your mind off of your fear of never finding your way out. At least it is good exercise. Maybe I can walk off those giant marshmallows.
One more thought about gardens---I have been pulling up some pesky unidentified weedy looking plants that have been growing like crazy in one of my flower gardens. I finally realized yesterday that they might be starts of a plant that I planted in the garden. The early beginnings look different than the more mature plant. I am going to let them go for awhile and see what happens...The fact that plants can look a little 'weedy' or unruly for a time at first before turning into something nicer means there is hope for plants and people too!
I think my post holiday hot summer laziness has settled in. I just want to read and eat marshmallows. I need to do something more energetic and productive than racing my dogs to the front door and wandering IKEA...
Tuesday, July 6, 2010
The Life of a Toy
I experience holiday weekend hangovers. I need to be gradually weaned off of a holiday frame of mind...
We capped off our enjoyable holiday weekend by going to see a movie on Monday. My husband, youngest daughter, and I went to see Toy Story 3. It was funny, exciting, creative, very sweet, magical, simple and amazing, And it was rated G! I am so grateful to the people at Pixar for their innovative, imaginative, and uplifting movies. They know how to make movies that strike a chord in the collective and individual human heart. I agree with my husband that they remember what it was like to play make-believe and they still do it---so delightfully!
I think most of us can relate to the Toy Story movies. Hopefully all of us at one time in our lives has owned and loved a toy. I usually do not like all of the toys that barrage the consuming public as a result of kids movies but in the case of Toy Story it was actually appropriate and I found myself wanting those toys. Soon after the first movie came out my oldest daughter bought Rex and Slink for me for a gift---it was funny because when she bought them the clerk made some comment about my daughter buying them for a younger sibling and my daughter told her no, they're for my mom-- my daughter said the clerk looked surprised and a little confused. I couldn't help it the movie put me in a nostalgic mood.
At one point during the movie the theater went almost completely quiet and everyone in the audience-young and old-seemed to share a special moment. It was one of those chord-striking moments.--- As adults we all remember how very much we wanted to grow up and yet how hard it was to leave our childhood behind. Like growing out of a favorite shirt or pair of pajamas--we can remember how good it felt to wear them but we can't wear them comfortably ever again. That realization both bothers and excites us when we are young. When we grow older that tug-of-war of feelings is softened through reminising. During each phase of life we look for a new 'favorite shirt'---something that fits... As young children our toys are so much more than things to play with. They are our trusted companions and our fellow adventurers. They are the vehicles for our imaginations. When we are in our early teens and almost nothing fits right and almost everything is awkward our toys are something we long to play with but feel we shouldn't. When we exchange make-believe for the reality of adulthood toys come to represent the innocent and carefree elements of being a child.--- I think it is safe to assume that the majority of adults teens and toddlers in the audience all shared an appreciation for the sentimental value of a toy and the love of playing. I admit that during that special movie moment when the movie really brought that appreciation home I shed a tear or two and looking around me I don't think I was the only one.
When I was a kid I enjoyed playing with dolls (including Barbies---my Barbies went on many adventures with neighbor Barbies---swimming, to grand parties etc etc) Slinkies, Troll dolls--especially one that had gold silky hair---, and a big white stuffed bear that my sister gave me.
For my husband it was Matchbox cars, GI Joes and Tinkertoys. One of the great things about being a parent or grandparent is that you get to keep playing...
Over the years our home has been made more lively by Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, been enchanted by My little Pony, had it's cute factor multiplied by Littlest Pet Shop, and has been softened and comforted by numerous stuffed cuddly friends.
I know toys are just things--defined in the dictionary as simply an object for a child play with--and over the years I have cursed them for being under my feet and they have frequently been the enemy in my various battles with clutter but yet I have inwardly cheered when finding just the right one at Christmas and winced when my children have decided to give one away that I had a particular fondness for. Toys come to life in a child's imagination and become an important part of worlds that exist because they are imagined. I remember being carried far away on the wings of my imagination. I think that pretending opens the mind and paves the way for believing...that dreams can come true---that miracles can happen.
I highly recommend going to see Toy Story 3 just for fun. I even more highly recommend having a tea party, playing dolls, or building something fantastical out of blocks, with your children (you can at least tempt your teenagers or make them do impressive eye rolling) or grandchildren.
Have fun!
We capped off our enjoyable holiday weekend by going to see a movie on Monday. My husband, youngest daughter, and I went to see Toy Story 3. It was funny, exciting, creative, very sweet, magical, simple and amazing, And it was rated G! I am so grateful to the people at Pixar for their innovative, imaginative, and uplifting movies. They know how to make movies that strike a chord in the collective and individual human heart. I agree with my husband that they remember what it was like to play make-believe and they still do it---so delightfully!
I think most of us can relate to the Toy Story movies. Hopefully all of us at one time in our lives has owned and loved a toy. I usually do not like all of the toys that barrage the consuming public as a result of kids movies but in the case of Toy Story it was actually appropriate and I found myself wanting those toys. Soon after the first movie came out my oldest daughter bought Rex and Slink for me for a gift---it was funny because when she bought them the clerk made some comment about my daughter buying them for a younger sibling and my daughter told her no, they're for my mom-- my daughter said the clerk looked surprised and a little confused. I couldn't help it the movie put me in a nostalgic mood.
At one point during the movie the theater went almost completely quiet and everyone in the audience-young and old-seemed to share a special moment. It was one of those chord-striking moments.--- As adults we all remember how very much we wanted to grow up and yet how hard it was to leave our childhood behind. Like growing out of a favorite shirt or pair of pajamas--we can remember how good it felt to wear them but we can't wear them comfortably ever again. That realization both bothers and excites us when we are young. When we grow older that tug-of-war of feelings is softened through reminising. During each phase of life we look for a new 'favorite shirt'---something that fits... As young children our toys are so much more than things to play with. They are our trusted companions and our fellow adventurers. They are the vehicles for our imaginations. When we are in our early teens and almost nothing fits right and almost everything is awkward our toys are something we long to play with but feel we shouldn't. When we exchange make-believe for the reality of adulthood toys come to represent the innocent and carefree elements of being a child.--- I think it is safe to assume that the majority of adults teens and toddlers in the audience all shared an appreciation for the sentimental value of a toy and the love of playing. I admit that during that special movie moment when the movie really brought that appreciation home I shed a tear or two and looking around me I don't think I was the only one.
When I was a kid I enjoyed playing with dolls (including Barbies---my Barbies went on many adventures with neighbor Barbies---swimming, to grand parties etc etc) Slinkies, Troll dolls--especially one that had gold silky hair---, and a big white stuffed bear that my sister gave me.
For my husband it was Matchbox cars, GI Joes and Tinkertoys. One of the great things about being a parent or grandparent is that you get to keep playing...
Over the years our home has been made more lively by Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, been enchanted by My little Pony, had it's cute factor multiplied by Littlest Pet Shop, and has been softened and comforted by numerous stuffed cuddly friends.
I know toys are just things--defined in the dictionary as simply an object for a child play with--and over the years I have cursed them for being under my feet and they have frequently been the enemy in my various battles with clutter but yet I have inwardly cheered when finding just the right one at Christmas and winced when my children have decided to give one away that I had a particular fondness for. Toys come to life in a child's imagination and become an important part of worlds that exist because they are imagined. I remember being carried far away on the wings of my imagination. I think that pretending opens the mind and paves the way for believing...that dreams can come true---that miracles can happen.
I highly recommend going to see Toy Story 3 just for fun. I even more highly recommend having a tea party, playing dolls, or building something fantastical out of blocks, with your children (you can at least tempt your teenagers or make them do impressive eye rolling) or grandchildren.
Have fun!
Monday, July 5, 2010
Moments
Do you remember the anticipation fluttering deep in your stomach as you felt the tugging on your roller coaster car as it neared the peak of the first and highest 'mountain'---and many people (not me) would raise their arms in anticipation...I think the 4th of July feels like that moment. It is the exciting peak of summer. The rest of the season is an enjoyable ride but the excitement lessens and the shrieks of delight turn to softer laughter and then to giggles as each curve takes us closer to feeling the pull of the brakes.
When I was a kid the 4th of July meant a barbecue, homemade ice-cream--that was hand cranked and I got to add salt to the bucket and was rewarded with getting to lick the paddle-stirrer-thing, lighting 'snakes' on the patio (they made lasting marks), doing cartwheels on the lawn, writing my name in the night air with sparklers, and watching Lagoon's fireworks from our kitchen window. (Which is kind of like watching the neighbor's television through their window from their front sidewalk---my mom couldn't get around well and my family never liked anything that involved crowds)
My first 4th of July away from home my room mate and I went to see the fireworks at Liberty Park. Unfortunately I remember the crowds more than the fireworks. My first memorable experience watching fireworks was when my husband took me to see his hometown's display at the middle school he had attended. We were right under the fireworks. They were huge and bright and noisy. They were like colored fountains spraying brilliant bursts of light---or like giant glowing dandelions gone to seed blown by the wind and twirling until they disappeared---they were amazing (with my hand in my husband's hand I didn't worry too much about our blanket catching on fire) and they felt so close that I imagined burning my fingers if I reached up too high---a much different view than perched on the edge of the kitchen sink finding just the right spot to look between two shadowy trees and wait for small bursts of light to appear.
After having children the 4th of July still included barbecues but store bought ice-cream and popcicles and Otter pops became more popular than homemade ice-cream. (these cold treats brought pleasure on hot days but they didn't carry with them the same ceremony of making homemade ice-cream) The 4th of July with children meant grabbing strollers and blankets and heading down to find a good spot to watch our city parade where we would wave small flags, wave to the pretty girls on the floats, and try to catch candy before it hit us---watching our children run around the yard with sparklers or throw snaps on the ground, and eating licorice or skittles while oohing and ahhing over fireworks.
I find that my memories of the 4th of July are more about the festivities-more about the celebration- than about the reason for the celebrating. But there have been and continue to be moments when I feel touched by patriotism---love for my country, moments when I feel gratitude for more freedoms than I realize most of the time, and moments when I feel reverence for the precious blood spilled defending those freedoms. These moments are far more rare than they should be but when they come they stir my heart with deep emotion and illuminate my mind with sharp awareness.
A very small amount of understanding of sacrifice for freedom came to me as a very young child when I saw my dad leave on a train on the first leg of his journey to Korea. Great clouds of steam were coming from the train and I screamed and sobbed because I thought my daddy was burning up. I gained greater appreciation for his sacrifice years later as I read his cards home from Korea. In them he spoke of what they would be doing on base to celebrate Thanksgiving or Christmas and how much he wished he could be home to celebrate with his family. In the final years of my father's life when he lived with us, he told me that because of his experiences in the Navy and the Army he could never see the American flag without getting a lump in his throat. My dad was not an emotional man.
I remember feeling an inkling of what I thought patriotism to be---not on the 4th of July but during the Christmas holidays when I would watch Bob Hope's specials when he entertained the troops. Although I was young I would look at the youthful smiling faces of the soldiers and I would experience a mixture of feelings. For a few moments brave young men would whistle at beautiful girl performers and laugh at Bob's jokes. They would have a break from pain and suffering and death, and for a few moments they would be just regular guys enjoying life. Watching them would give me a lump in my throat that I couldn't fully understand.
Last night we watched a couple of 4th of July specials on television. One was from our nation's capital and featured several entertainers including a boy from a relatively small city in our own state. There were patriotic musical numbers and fireworks and young soldiers who had been battered, broken, and maimed in our current war. Watching them smile in the face of adversity during a moment of peace reminded me of all those fresh young faces on the Bob Hope specials--only these faces were the 'after' shots... The other special featured Steve Young and a few LDS musical performers. We tuned in shortly before a young man spoke about his harrowing experience of being ambushed in Afghanistan. He had been blinded and had lost several good friends in the attack. Later in the program tribute was paid to two young local boys who had attended the same high school and who had both served and died in Afghanistan. Flags were presented to their mothers. Each mother held the flag to her heart with a look that spoke of yearning to hold her son instead. I felt like I was intruding...I guess it is needful to see more than parades and fireworks in order to truly celebrate the 4th of July. We need reminders of the cost of freedom--we also need to march and sing and wave flags and make homemade ice-cream...
Perhaps the time my heart was stretched to the fullest with patriotism was at my father's funeral. We had military rites done for him. To watch the exactness, the respect, the reverence, and dedication with which those young servicemen folded the flag left me in a state of humble awe. I can't begin to describe my feelings as the flag was handed to me and my sister. I felt my dad there with us and I like to think at that moment that he had gained a greater understanding of freedom. My dad had his mother lie about his age and sign for him so that he could join the navy at 16 or 17. He signed up for a dangerous mission as a gunner on a Merchant Marine ship. He said at the time he felt that no one cared about him and that it wouldn't matter if he came back or not. I think serving his country helped my dad have a greater appreciation for what he risked his life to defend---a relationship with God, freedom to make something of his life, and a family to love. My father spent all of the rest of his civilian life doing all he could to provide for his family and to give them happiness.
On Saturday night as we watched fireworks I looked at my granddaughter snug in her mother's lap excited about 'Christmas fireworks' and at my grandson safe in his daddy's arms captivated by the bright lights in the sky and I was immensely thankful that our family was watching a celebration and not hiding from enemy soldiers---that the loud sounds were coming from fireworks and not bombs or gunfire---that we would go home to safe and comfortable homes. How blessed we are to live in a promised land, a land prepared by God, a land of freedom---but we are the stewards of this land--we need to care for it and accept our responsibility for keeping it great. Most of us know a lot about celebrating and little about suffering. We need to work at remembering. I pray that my children and grandchildren will grow up in a free country and that they will be grateful---grateful enough to stand up for what they believe---to do their part in keeping our country free.
The holiday weekend is winding down to the last few sparks of the sparkler but we need to keep our flags flying and our hands over our hearts. Our God, our religion, our families, our rights are not separate causes--they are a firm foundation on which to build a happy life and a prosperous nation. God Bless America! Enjoy the rest of the roller coaster ride---the summer.
When I was a kid the 4th of July meant a barbecue, homemade ice-cream--that was hand cranked and I got to add salt to the bucket and was rewarded with getting to lick the paddle-stirrer-thing, lighting 'snakes' on the patio (they made lasting marks), doing cartwheels on the lawn, writing my name in the night air with sparklers, and watching Lagoon's fireworks from our kitchen window. (Which is kind of like watching the neighbor's television through their window from their front sidewalk---my mom couldn't get around well and my family never liked anything that involved crowds)
My first 4th of July away from home my room mate and I went to see the fireworks at Liberty Park. Unfortunately I remember the crowds more than the fireworks. My first memorable experience watching fireworks was when my husband took me to see his hometown's display at the middle school he had attended. We were right under the fireworks. They were huge and bright and noisy. They were like colored fountains spraying brilliant bursts of light---or like giant glowing dandelions gone to seed blown by the wind and twirling until they disappeared---they were amazing (with my hand in my husband's hand I didn't worry too much about our blanket catching on fire) and they felt so close that I imagined burning my fingers if I reached up too high---a much different view than perched on the edge of the kitchen sink finding just the right spot to look between two shadowy trees and wait for small bursts of light to appear.
After having children the 4th of July still included barbecues but store bought ice-cream and popcicles and Otter pops became more popular than homemade ice-cream. (these cold treats brought pleasure on hot days but they didn't carry with them the same ceremony of making homemade ice-cream) The 4th of July with children meant grabbing strollers and blankets and heading down to find a good spot to watch our city parade where we would wave small flags, wave to the pretty girls on the floats, and try to catch candy before it hit us---watching our children run around the yard with sparklers or throw snaps on the ground, and eating licorice or skittles while oohing and ahhing over fireworks.
I find that my memories of the 4th of July are more about the festivities-more about the celebration- than about the reason for the celebrating. But there have been and continue to be moments when I feel touched by patriotism---love for my country, moments when I feel gratitude for more freedoms than I realize most of the time, and moments when I feel reverence for the precious blood spilled defending those freedoms. These moments are far more rare than they should be but when they come they stir my heart with deep emotion and illuminate my mind with sharp awareness.
A very small amount of understanding of sacrifice for freedom came to me as a very young child when I saw my dad leave on a train on the first leg of his journey to Korea. Great clouds of steam were coming from the train and I screamed and sobbed because I thought my daddy was burning up. I gained greater appreciation for his sacrifice years later as I read his cards home from Korea. In them he spoke of what they would be doing on base to celebrate Thanksgiving or Christmas and how much he wished he could be home to celebrate with his family. In the final years of my father's life when he lived with us, he told me that because of his experiences in the Navy and the Army he could never see the American flag without getting a lump in his throat. My dad was not an emotional man.
I remember feeling an inkling of what I thought patriotism to be---not on the 4th of July but during the Christmas holidays when I would watch Bob Hope's specials when he entertained the troops. Although I was young I would look at the youthful smiling faces of the soldiers and I would experience a mixture of feelings. For a few moments brave young men would whistle at beautiful girl performers and laugh at Bob's jokes. They would have a break from pain and suffering and death, and for a few moments they would be just regular guys enjoying life. Watching them would give me a lump in my throat that I couldn't fully understand.
Last night we watched a couple of 4th of July specials on television. One was from our nation's capital and featured several entertainers including a boy from a relatively small city in our own state. There were patriotic musical numbers and fireworks and young soldiers who had been battered, broken, and maimed in our current war. Watching them smile in the face of adversity during a moment of peace reminded me of all those fresh young faces on the Bob Hope specials--only these faces were the 'after' shots... The other special featured Steve Young and a few LDS musical performers. We tuned in shortly before a young man spoke about his harrowing experience of being ambushed in Afghanistan. He had been blinded and had lost several good friends in the attack. Later in the program tribute was paid to two young local boys who had attended the same high school and who had both served and died in Afghanistan. Flags were presented to their mothers. Each mother held the flag to her heart with a look that spoke of yearning to hold her son instead. I felt like I was intruding...I guess it is needful to see more than parades and fireworks in order to truly celebrate the 4th of July. We need reminders of the cost of freedom--we also need to march and sing and wave flags and make homemade ice-cream...
Perhaps the time my heart was stretched to the fullest with patriotism was at my father's funeral. We had military rites done for him. To watch the exactness, the respect, the reverence, and dedication with which those young servicemen folded the flag left me in a state of humble awe. I can't begin to describe my feelings as the flag was handed to me and my sister. I felt my dad there with us and I like to think at that moment that he had gained a greater understanding of freedom. My dad had his mother lie about his age and sign for him so that he could join the navy at 16 or 17. He signed up for a dangerous mission as a gunner on a Merchant Marine ship. He said at the time he felt that no one cared about him and that it wouldn't matter if he came back or not. I think serving his country helped my dad have a greater appreciation for what he risked his life to defend---a relationship with God, freedom to make something of his life, and a family to love. My father spent all of the rest of his civilian life doing all he could to provide for his family and to give them happiness.
On Saturday night as we watched fireworks I looked at my granddaughter snug in her mother's lap excited about 'Christmas fireworks' and at my grandson safe in his daddy's arms captivated by the bright lights in the sky and I was immensely thankful that our family was watching a celebration and not hiding from enemy soldiers---that the loud sounds were coming from fireworks and not bombs or gunfire---that we would go home to safe and comfortable homes. How blessed we are to live in a promised land, a land prepared by God, a land of freedom---but we are the stewards of this land--we need to care for it and accept our responsibility for keeping it great. Most of us know a lot about celebrating and little about suffering. We need to work at remembering. I pray that my children and grandchildren will grow up in a free country and that they will be grateful---grateful enough to stand up for what they believe---to do their part in keeping our country free.
The holiday weekend is winding down to the last few sparks of the sparkler but we need to keep our flags flying and our hands over our hearts. Our God, our religion, our families, our rights are not separate causes--they are a firm foundation on which to build a happy life and a prosperous nation. God Bless America! Enjoy the rest of the roller coaster ride---the summer.
Monday, June 28, 2010
A Time to Die
I have decided that I wouldn't make a very good newspaper reporter. Breaking news stories would be well on their way to history books before I decided exactly how I should put them down in print. You see, I really like to carry thoughts or impressions around with me for awhile like trying on a pair of shoes and walking around in them to make sure they fit well. Perhaps I should do more writing and less thinking---after all, I have been doing more thinking and less writing for a very long time. But you know what they say about old habits...
It has been more than a week since I read about Ronnie Lee Gardner's execution in the newspaper and I am just now sitting down to try and explore my feelings as I type out words that I hope will pull together to make some sense...
I had read the articles about Gardner's crimes, his sad childhood, and about his victims. There was no doubt of his guilt and plenty of evidence of the far-reaching effects of the pain and sorrow he had caused but when I read the account of his execution I found my spirit wincing and tears coming to my eyes. I think my reaction came from a sorrow for a life that had been stained and torn by bad choices and for lives senselessly and prematurely taken or negatively impacted as a result of those bad choices. There is something terribly sad about coming to a point where human beings need to be put down like rabid dogs.
As a youth I was in favor of capital punishment mainly because my parents were, then as I grew older and starting thinking more for myself I stayed in favor of capital punishment because I thought it made sense that when someone willfully and coldly takes the life of another human being that the penalty should be to give up their right to live. An eye for eye, a life for a life...I guess I still believe in capital punishment---as long as someone else carries it out---
I looked up my church's position on capital punishment and the official statement basically said that those matters are left in the hands of the law and the church does not promote or oppose capital punishment. At first, I thought wait---how can you neither promote nor oppose something? Are we not either for or against something? On further thought I decided that capital punishment is not something to promote for the same reason it was so hard to read about the details of the execution---it isn't something that fits comfortably into most views of human society. For example, I don't promote violence but I do believe sometimes it is necessary and in those certain circumstances I would be seen as not opposing violence. Is it necessity that causes a stand to be taken on some issues? Society needs to be governed by rules--laws. There needs to be a penalty for breaking those laws. Crime needs to have punishment or corruption is the order of the day.
The debate on capital punishment stirs up a number of questions. Does capital punishment deter crime? I think the answer to that question is yes. People who are capable of committing murder might only hesitate because of the possibility of getting caught and if they knew that the penalty was death I think they might hesitate long enough to change their minds. As my husband says, the death penalty definitely keeps the murderer who is executed from committing more crimes. Many people have suffered and died at the hands of repeat offenders. However, the death penalty loses its effectiveness as a deterent if it is not immediately carried out. It is absolutely necessary to prove someone's guilt beyond any reasonable doubt before they are found guilty and especially before they are condemned to die but in cases where someone has been proven to be a murderer and sentenced to die then they shouldn't sit on death row for 10, 20, 30, or even more years. Do the criminals improve their lives during that time? Do they make positive contributions? Do they make any progress toward making restitution? Perhaps they do--or maybe they spend most of their time trying to avoid dying...
Is capital punishment cruel and unusual? Is it any more cruel than having someone be on death row---awaiting a death that is often ridiculously slow in coming? I think modern day criminals are treated quite humanely prior to execution. The majority of murder victims do not get to choose their final meal or their last words, they do not get to say goodbye to friends and family, meet with a member of the clergy, and most do not get a chance to have people protest the senselessness of their death. As for methods---firing squads are more humane for those carrying out the execution because it isn't just one hand that flips the switch or gives the injection. A firing squad also seems to be a quicker execution. I really do not feel qualified to choose the most humane way for a person to die. Who is qualified?
What about a person's background? From the sounds of it Ronnie Lee Gardner was never really taught right from wrong. He was taught that bad behavior was acceptable or even desirable. I feel sorry for the boy that he was but not for the man he became. There are many people who have horrendous childhoods who do not choose to take the life of another person.
What about the possibility of people changing their ways? What is accomplished by taking the life of a murderer? It doesn't bring back his victims. The only way a criminal can really show that they have changed their ways is by being released back into society. That poses a definite risk. Has the criminal changed their life to the extent that it's worth the risk of innocent lives? I am a hopeful person. I like to believe that people can change for the better but we have to look to their actions. Can a person who has no regard for the value of human life play a positive role in society? Do we become murderers ourselves when taking the life of a murderer? In war it is us and them. We are defending our country and our people but in the eyes of our opponents we are the enemy---the murderers. Again, it is a matter of perspective. But there is a clear perspective--a right perspective--a complete perspective of the big picture. It seems when we have done wrong we believe in a God that is loving and kind. When we have been wronged we believe in a God that is just. I believe that God is love and that he is the source of all truth and justice. God's love is filled with justice and his justice filled with love. Justice and love are not separate in the eyes of God...
Capital punishment is not an easy topic. There are no easy answers. I do believe there are right answers. I am thankful that as the scriptures say, 'God and Christ are the judge of all'.
It has been more than a week since I read about Ronnie Lee Gardner's execution in the newspaper and I am just now sitting down to try and explore my feelings as I type out words that I hope will pull together to make some sense...
I had read the articles about Gardner's crimes, his sad childhood, and about his victims. There was no doubt of his guilt and plenty of evidence of the far-reaching effects of the pain and sorrow he had caused but when I read the account of his execution I found my spirit wincing and tears coming to my eyes. I think my reaction came from a sorrow for a life that had been stained and torn by bad choices and for lives senselessly and prematurely taken or negatively impacted as a result of those bad choices. There is something terribly sad about coming to a point where human beings need to be put down like rabid dogs.
As a youth I was in favor of capital punishment mainly because my parents were, then as I grew older and starting thinking more for myself I stayed in favor of capital punishment because I thought it made sense that when someone willfully and coldly takes the life of another human being that the penalty should be to give up their right to live. An eye for eye, a life for a life...I guess I still believe in capital punishment---as long as someone else carries it out---
I looked up my church's position on capital punishment and the official statement basically said that those matters are left in the hands of the law and the church does not promote or oppose capital punishment. At first, I thought wait---how can you neither promote nor oppose something? Are we not either for or against something? On further thought I decided that capital punishment is not something to promote for the same reason it was so hard to read about the details of the execution---it isn't something that fits comfortably into most views of human society. For example, I don't promote violence but I do believe sometimes it is necessary and in those certain circumstances I would be seen as not opposing violence. Is it necessity that causes a stand to be taken on some issues? Society needs to be governed by rules--laws. There needs to be a penalty for breaking those laws. Crime needs to have punishment or corruption is the order of the day.
The debate on capital punishment stirs up a number of questions. Does capital punishment deter crime? I think the answer to that question is yes. People who are capable of committing murder might only hesitate because of the possibility of getting caught and if they knew that the penalty was death I think they might hesitate long enough to change their minds. As my husband says, the death penalty definitely keeps the murderer who is executed from committing more crimes. Many people have suffered and died at the hands of repeat offenders. However, the death penalty loses its effectiveness as a deterent if it is not immediately carried out. It is absolutely necessary to prove someone's guilt beyond any reasonable doubt before they are found guilty and especially before they are condemned to die but in cases where someone has been proven to be a murderer and sentenced to die then they shouldn't sit on death row for 10, 20, 30, or even more years. Do the criminals improve their lives during that time? Do they make positive contributions? Do they make any progress toward making restitution? Perhaps they do--or maybe they spend most of their time trying to avoid dying...
Is capital punishment cruel and unusual? Is it any more cruel than having someone be on death row---awaiting a death that is often ridiculously slow in coming? I think modern day criminals are treated quite humanely prior to execution. The majority of murder victims do not get to choose their final meal or their last words, they do not get to say goodbye to friends and family, meet with a member of the clergy, and most do not get a chance to have people protest the senselessness of their death. As for methods---firing squads are more humane for those carrying out the execution because it isn't just one hand that flips the switch or gives the injection. A firing squad also seems to be a quicker execution. I really do not feel qualified to choose the most humane way for a person to die. Who is qualified?
What about a person's background? From the sounds of it Ronnie Lee Gardner was never really taught right from wrong. He was taught that bad behavior was acceptable or even desirable. I feel sorry for the boy that he was but not for the man he became. There are many people who have horrendous childhoods who do not choose to take the life of another person.
What about the possibility of people changing their ways? What is accomplished by taking the life of a murderer? It doesn't bring back his victims. The only way a criminal can really show that they have changed their ways is by being released back into society. That poses a definite risk. Has the criminal changed their life to the extent that it's worth the risk of innocent lives? I am a hopeful person. I like to believe that people can change for the better but we have to look to their actions. Can a person who has no regard for the value of human life play a positive role in society? Do we become murderers ourselves when taking the life of a murderer? In war it is us and them. We are defending our country and our people but in the eyes of our opponents we are the enemy---the murderers. Again, it is a matter of perspective. But there is a clear perspective--a right perspective--a complete perspective of the big picture. It seems when we have done wrong we believe in a God that is loving and kind. When we have been wronged we believe in a God that is just. I believe that God is love and that he is the source of all truth and justice. God's love is filled with justice and his justice filled with love. Justice and love are not separate in the eyes of God...
Capital punishment is not an easy topic. There are no easy answers. I do believe there are right answers. I am thankful that as the scriptures say, 'God and Christ are the judge of all'.
Monday, June 21, 2010
Gardens
In the past my husband and I have just barely dabbled in gardening. Even now I feel like we are just masquerading as gardeners when it comes to a vegetable garden---but this year we have taken more serious strides toward becoming genuine gardeners. I read several online articles about square foot gardening (I now have The book on square foot gardening by Mel Bartholomew--he makes gardening look so easy anyone can do it--even me) and we added some good soil and highly recommended local compost to our three grow boxes. We divided each box into 12 inch sections, my husband made some vertical trellises for the tomatoes, peas, and pumpkins, and we put up a fence to keep our wild dogs out. We were diligent in protecting our plants from a couple of unseasonable cold spells and we are faithfully watering and weeding. So far so good!
Gardening really is therapeutic. It has been said many times and in many ways but there is something about getting your hands in the dirt---planting, weeding, watering, harvesting--- that feels very human--very right--and something very much more...I have always found it satisfying on some deeper level (or perhaps higher level?)of existence to find such natural comparisons between gardening and life.
Two bare root berry bushes were on sale--one blueberry and one blackberry. We know nothing about growing berry bushes--let alone bare root berry bushes but we were buying things to plant and we could feel the beginnings of a green thumb stirring within us--so we added them to the cart and planted them with no knowledge and lots of hope. I lovingly referred to them for the first few weeks as our little stick plants. We watered them and put peat moss around them to help warm the soil during our Spring cold spell. The sturdiest looking of the two sent out a runner that looks very promising but the other little stick remained a stick. My husband didn't hold out much hope for it but I insisted on continuing to water it because it was still mostly green. Today I saw that our feeble little stick has also sent out a little runner. It is alive!
Life lesson: Don't give up on something that isn't showing immediate promise. Within a stick is the potential to become a flourishing bush that will bear delicious fruit--within an unimpressive, lowly looking human being is potential for a great productive person.
Another item in a sale bin that we knew nothing about was some shallots. Soon after I planted them, two of the three sprouted and started to grow. I watered all three but I saw no signs of the other one growing so I finally stopped watering it. Well only a couple of days after I stopped watering it the non-growing shallot sprouted! It wasn't a dud as I had started to suspect, it was just slower than the others. Why did I give up on the shallot but not the berry bush? I think part of the reason was because the berry bush stood alone. I couldn't completely compare it to the other bush because it was a different kind of bush. The shallot on the other hand was sharing the same 12 inch square of soil with others of its kind that were actually growing.
Life lesson: How helpful are comparisons? How fair are we in our expectations? How many people go without receiving life-giving things like love and attention? There are many unwatered plants of the human variety sitting in classrooms, offices, churches, and even homes.
C.S. Lewis said, It is a serious thing to live in a society of possible gods and goddesses, to remember that the dullest and most uninteresting person you talk to may one day be a creature which, if you saw it now, you would be srongly tempted to worship, or else a horror and a corruption such as you now meet, if at all, only in a nightmare. All day long we are, in some degree, helping each other to one or the other of these destinations. Who are we helping to grow and who are we leaving unwatered?
I have a problem especially in my flower garden of distinguishing desirable plants from weeds, especially when the weeds grow very close to the plants. It is definitely good and necessary to stay on top of weeds in a garden so the weeds don't take over but in the flower garden as well as the vegetable garden it is sometimes necessary to let the plants grow and mature a bit before we are able to safely and successfully pull up the weeds without pulling up the plants.
Life Lesson: We learn about the wisdom of this in the New Testament in Matthew---The parable of the wheat and the tares. The sower tells his servants to let the wheat and the tares grow up together until the time of harvest and then the tares can be removed without uprooting the wheat. Too many times I have been so worried about the 'weeds' in my children that I have been too quick to pull them out with nagging and lectures and I have harmed the delicate and growing 'wheat'. It is important to be watchful for life's weeds growing in our children do our very best to keep them from taking root but it is also important to not be so focused on weeding that we neglect our tender and patient nurturing.
Beyond a nice looking or well producing garden I want to make sure I appreciate and use what I grow.
Life Lesson: I think we need to show our children not only the miracle of a plant growing from a seed, or the benefits of hard work in keeping a garden, but we need to show them how to harvest the fruits of their labors, how to benefit from those fruits, how to share their harvest, and how to lay things up in store.
If I think too much about all of these analogies I will be even more intimidated by gardening and by life...But I will just keep pulling weeds, watering, hoping, and praying my garden to grow. Three garden boxes can yield quite the bounteous harvest of produce and life lessons.
Happy growing!
Gardening really is therapeutic. It has been said many times and in many ways but there is something about getting your hands in the dirt---planting, weeding, watering, harvesting--- that feels very human--very right--and something very much more...I have always found it satisfying on some deeper level (or perhaps higher level?)of existence to find such natural comparisons between gardening and life.
Two bare root berry bushes were on sale--one blueberry and one blackberry. We know nothing about growing berry bushes--let alone bare root berry bushes but we were buying things to plant and we could feel the beginnings of a green thumb stirring within us--so we added them to the cart and planted them with no knowledge and lots of hope. I lovingly referred to them for the first few weeks as our little stick plants. We watered them and put peat moss around them to help warm the soil during our Spring cold spell. The sturdiest looking of the two sent out a runner that looks very promising but the other little stick remained a stick. My husband didn't hold out much hope for it but I insisted on continuing to water it because it was still mostly green. Today I saw that our feeble little stick has also sent out a little runner. It is alive!
Life lesson: Don't give up on something that isn't showing immediate promise. Within a stick is the potential to become a flourishing bush that will bear delicious fruit--within an unimpressive, lowly looking human being is potential for a great productive person.
Another item in a sale bin that we knew nothing about was some shallots. Soon after I planted them, two of the three sprouted and started to grow. I watered all three but I saw no signs of the other one growing so I finally stopped watering it. Well only a couple of days after I stopped watering it the non-growing shallot sprouted! It wasn't a dud as I had started to suspect, it was just slower than the others. Why did I give up on the shallot but not the berry bush? I think part of the reason was because the berry bush stood alone. I couldn't completely compare it to the other bush because it was a different kind of bush. The shallot on the other hand was sharing the same 12 inch square of soil with others of its kind that were actually growing.
Life lesson: How helpful are comparisons? How fair are we in our expectations? How many people go without receiving life-giving things like love and attention? There are many unwatered plants of the human variety sitting in classrooms, offices, churches, and even homes.
C.S. Lewis said, It is a serious thing to live in a society of possible gods and goddesses, to remember that the dullest and most uninteresting person you talk to may one day be a creature which, if you saw it now, you would be srongly tempted to worship, or else a horror and a corruption such as you now meet, if at all, only in a nightmare. All day long we are, in some degree, helping each other to one or the other of these destinations. Who are we helping to grow and who are we leaving unwatered?
I have a problem especially in my flower garden of distinguishing desirable plants from weeds, especially when the weeds grow very close to the plants. It is definitely good and necessary to stay on top of weeds in a garden so the weeds don't take over but in the flower garden as well as the vegetable garden it is sometimes necessary to let the plants grow and mature a bit before we are able to safely and successfully pull up the weeds without pulling up the plants.
Life Lesson: We learn about the wisdom of this in the New Testament in Matthew---The parable of the wheat and the tares. The sower tells his servants to let the wheat and the tares grow up together until the time of harvest and then the tares can be removed without uprooting the wheat. Too many times I have been so worried about the 'weeds' in my children that I have been too quick to pull them out with nagging and lectures and I have harmed the delicate and growing 'wheat'. It is important to be watchful for life's weeds growing in our children do our very best to keep them from taking root but it is also important to not be so focused on weeding that we neglect our tender and patient nurturing.
Beyond a nice looking or well producing garden I want to make sure I appreciate and use what I grow.
Life Lesson: I think we need to show our children not only the miracle of a plant growing from a seed, or the benefits of hard work in keeping a garden, but we need to show them how to harvest the fruits of their labors, how to benefit from those fruits, how to share their harvest, and how to lay things up in store.
If I think too much about all of these analogies I will be even more intimidated by gardening and by life...But I will just keep pulling weeds, watering, hoping, and praying my garden to grow. Three garden boxes can yield quite the bounteous harvest of produce and life lessons.
Happy growing!
Monday, June 14, 2010
Look That Cloud Is Shaped Like A Colon
I am finally doing something tomorrow that I have put off for awhile. I am doing something that is strongly recommended for people my age---something responsible--I am going in for a colonoscopy. I think it is easy to see why such procedures keep getting pushed farther down on the old To Do list. A colonoscopy is about as much fun to look forward to as a root canal only a bit more personal. I wish the health and well being of my colon could be assessed by having me open my mouth and stick out my tongue but instead I need to be part of a weird Kodak moment. To add to my apprehension I haven't even met the doctor who will be doing the test. We should have got together for lunch first or something but I guess sometimes it's better this way. We put a lot of trust sometimes in people we don't know. Oddly enough it is usually in situations involving our precious bodies.We like to go to someone we know to get our car fixed or our hair done...
Anyway--I have been on a liquid diet today. I think it will do me good and I do need to be cleaned up for my pictures tomorrow but I really like to sink my teeth into food. I'm the kind of person who likes chunks of vegetables in my soup, pieces of candy in my ice cream or shakes, fruit in my Jello, and ice in my water. Oh well, it is only for today and besides the Miralax did give texture to my Gatorade. I still have teeth so why am I complaining?
I am going to try and be optimistic about this rite of passage (moving closer to old). Perhaps tomorrow I will write about the bright side of getting a colonoscopy---about the humor in getting a colonoscopy---just the highlights?--or maybe the next day I will write the ABCs of my aches and pains... I am just getting a glimpse of the scope (pun intended) of fun activities that come along with aging.
I am seriously thankful that I live in a day and age when we have tests that give us early detection of life-threatening problems and it is important and wise to take advantage of such positive opportunities. Another upside of living with modern technology is spellcheck and I just got a good giggle when my spellcheck highlighted colonscopy and gave cloudscape and kaleidoscope as the suggestions for correction. Oh the analogies I could draw...but I won't.
Well, gotta run..(Sorry I couldn't resist)
Anyway--I have been on a liquid diet today. I think it will do me good and I do need to be cleaned up for my pictures tomorrow but I really like to sink my teeth into food. I'm the kind of person who likes chunks of vegetables in my soup, pieces of candy in my ice cream or shakes, fruit in my Jello, and ice in my water. Oh well, it is only for today and besides the Miralax did give texture to my Gatorade. I still have teeth so why am I complaining?
I am going to try and be optimistic about this rite of passage (moving closer to old). Perhaps tomorrow I will write about the bright side of getting a colonoscopy---about the humor in getting a colonoscopy---just the highlights?--or maybe the next day I will write the ABCs of my aches and pains... I am just getting a glimpse of the scope (pun intended) of fun activities that come along with aging.
I am seriously thankful that I live in a day and age when we have tests that give us early detection of life-threatening problems and it is important and wise to take advantage of such positive opportunities. Another upside of living with modern technology is spellcheck and I just got a good giggle when my spellcheck highlighted colonscopy and gave cloudscape and kaleidoscope as the suggestions for correction. Oh the analogies I could draw...but I won't.
Well, gotta run..(Sorry I couldn't resist)
Friday, June 11, 2010
Musing While Mowing
Contemplations while mowing the lawn---besides thinking how non-lush our back lawn is (It feels like old carpet with too many worn spots), how nice our garden is looking compared to last year, and how lucky I was to finish mowing just before the sprinklers came on.
Actually my contemplating started last night after reading a newspaper column. The column is locally written and has become centered around the author's weight loss journey. He lost quite a lot of weight and has worked at having a more active and healthy lifestyle but has been putting the weight back on and falling back into bad habits over the past year. I have glanced at the column periodically but noticed that the topic was frequently how the author was struggling or falling short so I found it consoling but not exactly motivating. Last night it hit home and made me sad to read it as the author was talking about how hard it is to write a column about weight loss and then fail and how now he wants to do better. The man has a good sense of humor but his funny words are lightly coated with frustration and discouragement lurks between the lines. Last night's column was sad but motivating. I hope he hangs in there---maybe I can too.
I don't like to think of myself as overweight but I am because I weigh more than what I should and most importantly more than what I feel happy weighing. I bulge and I jiggle--too much of me moves when I move and seems to keep moving when I stop (sorry--lovely image) and I just look at myself out of the corner of my eye when I see my reflection in a full length mirror--hoping to see less of myself and afraid to see all of myself.
I was always the skinny kid growing up. I liked that identity. My parents thought it was great when I asked for seconds and I could eat whatever I wanted with no guilt. My mom even took me to the doctor once because she was worried about how thin I was. There was nothing wrong--I was just thin. I was always thin but I have also always had a sweet tooth and I have always equated eating with celebrating and having a good time. After I got married and started eating regular meals (that stopped during my college days and living-on-my-own days) I started putting on weight which at first was a good thing. Having babies and getting older naturally changed my body and my metabolism---but not my sweet tooth or my emotional connections with food. I found even more reasons to eat junk. To make a long story short...I eat too much of what I shouldn't, I eat for the wrong reasons, I don't exercise enough and I have been going to change all of that tomorrow, Monday, after the holidays, when school starts, after my birthday---I am headed down a predictable path with all of this...a path that goes in perpetual circles.
Anyway, I was thinking of how we get in our own way. I have been blessed with a good metabolism and pretty good health. I also have height in my favor and a build that is good at hiding excess weight. I have never been an athlete but I have done some athletic things. I ran a 5K a few years back, (I run like a hare for the first minute or two then I run like a turtle if a turtle could run) I've hiked, I've gone on river runs, I've Disco danced for hours and even went rock climbing once. I know I will not continue to escape the consequences of my bad eating habits. I have already had a few minor problems that could be a direct result of not treating my body as well as I should have. I was contemplating how possibly different my body and my life could be right now if I would have corrected my course long ago. Perhaps I would be running 10Ks or marathons, playing tennis with my kids, going on hikes or bicycle rides with my husband, or just simply not afraid to really look at myself in the mirror. Don't get me wrong, I find enjoyment in my life and I do stay pretty active but I can't help but wonder...or worry...maybe I have passed on bad things to my kids because of my bad habits. I have already apologized for passing on bad eyesight and beige tooth enamel--those got passed on to me. My mom was always overly concerned about her weight--I was the only kid in my school--I thought anyway-- who took sandwiches made out of low-calorie bread and my dad had a major sweet tooth--maybe I am genetically hard wired to like sugar, sugar, sugar--but my dad had more self-control and he didn't give birth to four children. I don't know if I genetically passed on bad eating habits to my kids but I have set a bad example and maybe even caused problems for them when they were developing as babies---scary thoughts--One habit I hope to pass on is the habit of not giving up on trying to do the right thing. I'm rambling...surprised?
I wonder if there's a teenager out there who could be a marathon runner or an Olympic swimmer if they hadn't started smoking. I wonder what discoveries could have been made by a once bright young mind dimmed by prescription drugs or what great things could have been accomplished by someone whose confidence was lost in binging and whose boundless energy was suffocated by obeisity...
I know some people take excellent care of their bodies and still succumb to disease, but they did their best and that has to be a soothing balm compared with swallowing the hard pill of knowing you led yourself to your downfall. There are people who smoke and drink for years and end up living to a ripe (perhaps leathery and slightly pickled) old age but sometimes just living a lot of years doesn't win you any prizes. There are triathletes who die of heart attacks walking down the street. There are people who have never smoked who die of lung cancer. Life has interesting twists and turns and things that seem to our eyes incongruous or grossly unfair. I do know that there are no accidents with God---It doesn't make sense that something would catch him by surprise. I also believe that we do really reap what we sow in one way or another. I just can't help but think of the detours or short cuts or just plain bumpy roads we take because of our choices and how painful it would be to look back over our lives and see the times when we voluntarily left the road and what happened or could have happened on the smooth and clearly marked road while we were off bumping along on the ruts and eating dust. So much to think about...
I know there are people out there who have lost my whole body weight from their bodies. I know there are people who would like to be as thin as I am not. I know I am not the only one who shakes my head when I see current pictures of myself or thinks about putting a life size picture of myself of how I looked 30 years ago over my mirror to take the place of my reflection. I know I'm not the only one who thinks about how much better I need to treat my body while eating out of a bag of chocolate chips. Like the man in the newspaper column---I will keep trying to make better choices. And if my kids read this... I'm sorry...but you can rise above genetics and bad examples.
And---mowing the lawn is good physical exercise and good mental exercise---
Actually my contemplating started last night after reading a newspaper column. The column is locally written and has become centered around the author's weight loss journey. He lost quite a lot of weight and has worked at having a more active and healthy lifestyle but has been putting the weight back on and falling back into bad habits over the past year. I have glanced at the column periodically but noticed that the topic was frequently how the author was struggling or falling short so I found it consoling but not exactly motivating. Last night it hit home and made me sad to read it as the author was talking about how hard it is to write a column about weight loss and then fail and how now he wants to do better. The man has a good sense of humor but his funny words are lightly coated with frustration and discouragement lurks between the lines. Last night's column was sad but motivating. I hope he hangs in there---maybe I can too.
I don't like to think of myself as overweight but I am because I weigh more than what I should and most importantly more than what I feel happy weighing. I bulge and I jiggle--too much of me moves when I move and seems to keep moving when I stop (sorry--lovely image) and I just look at myself out of the corner of my eye when I see my reflection in a full length mirror--hoping to see less of myself and afraid to see all of myself.
I was always the skinny kid growing up. I liked that identity. My parents thought it was great when I asked for seconds and I could eat whatever I wanted with no guilt. My mom even took me to the doctor once because she was worried about how thin I was. There was nothing wrong--I was just thin. I was always thin but I have also always had a sweet tooth and I have always equated eating with celebrating and having a good time. After I got married and started eating regular meals (that stopped during my college days and living-on-my-own days) I started putting on weight which at first was a good thing. Having babies and getting older naturally changed my body and my metabolism---but not my sweet tooth or my emotional connections with food. I found even more reasons to eat junk. To make a long story short...I eat too much of what I shouldn't, I eat for the wrong reasons, I don't exercise enough and I have been going to change all of that tomorrow, Monday, after the holidays, when school starts, after my birthday---I am headed down a predictable path with all of this...a path that goes in perpetual circles.
Anyway, I was thinking of how we get in our own way. I have been blessed with a good metabolism and pretty good health. I also have height in my favor and a build that is good at hiding excess weight. I have never been an athlete but I have done some athletic things. I ran a 5K a few years back, (I run like a hare for the first minute or two then I run like a turtle if a turtle could run) I've hiked, I've gone on river runs, I've Disco danced for hours and even went rock climbing once. I know I will not continue to escape the consequences of my bad eating habits. I have already had a few minor problems that could be a direct result of not treating my body as well as I should have. I was contemplating how possibly different my body and my life could be right now if I would have corrected my course long ago. Perhaps I would be running 10Ks or marathons, playing tennis with my kids, going on hikes or bicycle rides with my husband, or just simply not afraid to really look at myself in the mirror. Don't get me wrong, I find enjoyment in my life and I do stay pretty active but I can't help but wonder...or worry...maybe I have passed on bad things to my kids because of my bad habits. I have already apologized for passing on bad eyesight and beige tooth enamel--those got passed on to me. My mom was always overly concerned about her weight--I was the only kid in my school--I thought anyway-- who took sandwiches made out of low-calorie bread and my dad had a major sweet tooth--maybe I am genetically hard wired to like sugar, sugar, sugar--but my dad had more self-control and he didn't give birth to four children. I don't know if I genetically passed on bad eating habits to my kids but I have set a bad example and maybe even caused problems for them when they were developing as babies---scary thoughts--One habit I hope to pass on is the habit of not giving up on trying to do the right thing. I'm rambling...surprised?
I wonder if there's a teenager out there who could be a marathon runner or an Olympic swimmer if they hadn't started smoking. I wonder what discoveries could have been made by a once bright young mind dimmed by prescription drugs or what great things could have been accomplished by someone whose confidence was lost in binging and whose boundless energy was suffocated by obeisity...
I know some people take excellent care of their bodies and still succumb to disease, but they did their best and that has to be a soothing balm compared with swallowing the hard pill of knowing you led yourself to your downfall. There are people who smoke and drink for years and end up living to a ripe (perhaps leathery and slightly pickled) old age but sometimes just living a lot of years doesn't win you any prizes. There are triathletes who die of heart attacks walking down the street. There are people who have never smoked who die of lung cancer. Life has interesting twists and turns and things that seem to our eyes incongruous or grossly unfair. I do know that there are no accidents with God---It doesn't make sense that something would catch him by surprise. I also believe that we do really reap what we sow in one way or another. I just can't help but think of the detours or short cuts or just plain bumpy roads we take because of our choices and how painful it would be to look back over our lives and see the times when we voluntarily left the road and what happened or could have happened on the smooth and clearly marked road while we were off bumping along on the ruts and eating dust. So much to think about...
I know there are people out there who have lost my whole body weight from their bodies. I know there are people who would like to be as thin as I am not. I know I am not the only one who shakes my head when I see current pictures of myself or thinks about putting a life size picture of myself of how I looked 30 years ago over my mirror to take the place of my reflection. I know I'm not the only one who thinks about how much better I need to treat my body while eating out of a bag of chocolate chips. Like the man in the newspaper column---I will keep trying to make better choices. And if my kids read this... I'm sorry...but you can rise above genetics and bad examples.
And---mowing the lawn is good physical exercise and good mental exercise---
Thursday, June 10, 2010
Singing Birds Welcome
I found a great Chinese proverb that says,
Keep a green tree in your heart and perhaps a singing bird will come.
I like the connotations of a green tree in your heart. I recall some moments when I have felt something like a vibrant green tree in my heart---a glorious gratitude for being alive type of feeling when I feel like I have clear blue sky and fresh sunshine in my lungs and the green tree in my heart is filled with a mighty chorus of singing birds---moments like when I married my sweetheart for time and all eternity, moments when I held my babies for the first time... Other times I have felt like I have a soft green tree in my heart gently swaying in the breeze with a few birds softly chirping---times of just sitting and holding hands with my husband, times of watching my children sleep tucked in all safe and sound and innocent, and times of soaking in the laughter of my grandchildren. Then are times when the tree in my heart isn't green at all and it's bare and cold with maybe one bird just sitting in it waiting for the renovations to be finished---times when I am worried or depressed or overwhelmed--times when I feel old and tired and bent with regret and too far away from Springtime.
How do we keep the tree in our hearts green? Biology basics---sunlight---plenty of light, water---living water to wash and refresh and renew, food---truth and hope to nourish and strengthen.
Of course all of this has to reach down to the roots...
From Chinese proverbs to Emily Dickinson---
Keep a green tree in your heart and perhaps a singing bird will come.
I like the connotations of a green tree in your heart. I recall some moments when I have felt something like a vibrant green tree in my heart---a glorious gratitude for being alive type of feeling when I feel like I have clear blue sky and fresh sunshine in my lungs and the green tree in my heart is filled with a mighty chorus of singing birds---moments like when I married my sweetheart for time and all eternity, moments when I held my babies for the first time... Other times I have felt like I have a soft green tree in my heart gently swaying in the breeze with a few birds softly chirping---times of just sitting and holding hands with my husband, times of watching my children sleep tucked in all safe and sound and innocent, and times of soaking in the laughter of my grandchildren. Then are times when the tree in my heart isn't green at all and it's bare and cold with maybe one bird just sitting in it waiting for the renovations to be finished---times when I am worried or depressed or overwhelmed--times when I feel old and tired and bent with regret and too far away from Springtime.
How do we keep the tree in our hearts green? Biology basics---sunlight---plenty of light, water---living water to wash and refresh and renew, food---truth and hope to nourish and strengthen.
Of course all of this has to reach down to the roots...
From Chinese proverbs to Emily Dickinson---
Hope
Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul,
And sings the tune--without the words,
And never stops at all,
And sweetest in the gale is heard;
And sore must be the storm
That could abash the little bird
That kept so many warm.
I've heard it in the chillest land,
And on the stangest sea;
Yet, never, in extremity,
It asked a crumb of me.
Beautiful
By the way, when I googled the poem I noticed that today would have been the 100th birthday of Jacques Cousteau---I just noticed that the last part of his last name means water in French---
I remember watching Jacques Cousteau specials on television as a kid. He always seemed old to me but strong like he had weathered many a storm. Since I seem to be attempting to wax poetic, Mr. Cousteau reminded me of a fish out of water---not in an awkward way but a good way--the sea was so much a part of the man. I think I will try and read more about him. I think a friend of mine was recently reading a book about him.
Wednesday, June 9, 2010
Perspective and Balance
First things first---In my last blog I mentioned understanding that people have more important things to do than read my blog--like tweezing unwanted facial hair. I realized that this probably mainly refers to women (most men shave unwanted facial hair) so just in case men read my blog--I realize they have more important things to do like tweeze unruly nose hairs---just wanted to broaden my comments.
A few short weeks ago I was out clearing snow off of the tarp protecting our infant vegetable garden and shivering one day and the very next day I was loving the blue skies and soaking in the warmth of the sunshine--so were my little plants. I couldn't help thinking what a difference a day makes--then the song came into my mind, what a difference a day makes, twenty -four little hours. Sometimes a life can be altered in twenty-four little hours or even in minutes or seconds and yet in other circumstances a day seems to not make much difference. I think it is a matter of perspective. Our days might seem to make no difference from what we see but I think they always make a difference or have an impact. Are not we each the sum total of the difference our days make? Perhaps if one day is perceived to be just like any other then we are just existing and not living...I don't know. The apostle Peter said that one day is with the Lord as a thousand years and that has been interpreted to mean that in the Lord's time one of his days is equivalent to a thousand of our years. From that perspective one of our days is an incredibly short period of time to the Lord and little doesn't begin to describe the twenty-four hours within that short short day.
In church last Sunday we sang the hymn Abide With Me with text by Henry F. Lyte. The words Swift to its close ebbs out life's little day struck a chord with me and even made me a get a little teary-eyed. Especially now that I am seeing more of my youthful days in the rear-view mirror on my life's journey, I am increasingly more aware of just how brief this earthly existence is. The description given by James in the New Testament seems very apt, that life is even a vapour that appears for a little time then vanisheth away and yet, this brief life is the time we have been given to prepare to meet God again. (It is interesting that as we age our eyes have difficulty seeing things that are up close but things that are farther away become clearer. Maybe that corresponds somehow with how we start seeing our past more clearly as we get older. Since our lifetimes are very short from an eternal perspective maybe we see our youth in the side mirror and things are closer than they appear) Sometimes we feel we don't have enough hours in the day but at other times we still act like we have all the time in the world. Our Father in Heaven tells us to wisely use our time, to work while the sun shines, to not procrastinate. He also tells us to not run faster than we have strength to do so.
I find it perplexing that many gospel truths unpondered seem to be at odds with each other. In the Book of Mormon we read that we are less than the dust of the earth but in the Doctrine and Covenants we read that the worth of souls is great in the sight of God. The fact that both of these points of view are correct is clarified through perspective and balance. How can God, who hath measured the waters in the hollow of his hand, and meted out heaven with the span, and comprehended the dust of the earth in a measure, and weighed the mountains in scales, and the hills in a balance {Isaiah 40:12} know when one sparrow falls to the earth or when one of his multitude of children on one small planet out of many worlds is hurting? I think a more appropriate question would be how could he not know? To narrow things to our mortal perspective, a trained and skilled doctor in an emergency room uses his abilities to massage a heart with his hands to keep a patient alive and then moves on to use fewer than 10 stitches to close a minor wound. A busy mother of young children has clothes to wash, meals to prepare, carpools to drive but she still stops to listen intently as her small child talks on and on about seeing a potato bug on the sidewalk. Firemen risk their lives to save babies from burning buildings and take their time to get kittens out of tall trees. On an almost daily basis we do big things of little significance and little things of major importance. Learning how to use our time wisely---how to appropriately distribute our energy---how to decide what is most deserving of our attention---how to choose the good and then the better over the good and the best over the better--this knowledge helps us to get the most out of each day. Learning these lessons are part of growing up but I think much more than that they are part of growing closer to God and letting him teach us about balance.
The world, or more accurately worldliness, can upset balance in our lives. More and more things of little worth are given more weight and importance. We spend too much time finding out all about what is wrong with other people's lives and too little time increasing what is right in our own lives. An inordinate amount of emphasis is placed on recreation and entertainment where much less emphasis is placed on work and service. In Proverbs we find out that a false balance is an abomination to the Lord. I think a false balance refers to an inaccurate weight. For example in a market if the scales weigh too heavy then we are charged more money for less product. We work more for less substance. Daniel talks about being weighed in the balance and found wanting. When we leave this brief existence on earth we don't take our prized possessions--our stuff--we do take the things money can't buy--the intangibles--love, integrity, trust--- we don't take diplomas or trophies or ribbons---we do take experience, lessons learned, wisdom, multiplied talents--I envision it kind of like me when I get weighed at the Doctor's office...I am always upset by the number on the scale so I take off my shoes, set down my purse, am tempted to take off earrings---when our earthly lives are weighed we take off or set down all of the stuff, the things and we are left with the lessons, the feelings, the thoughts---if we have only focused on the stuff then we will be found wanting spiritually.
So...all the little hours, days, weeks, months, and years add up to a life that is very brief but when weighed in the balance of eternity by our Heavenly Father who knows our worth...what a difference a day makes.
A few short weeks ago I was out clearing snow off of the tarp protecting our infant vegetable garden and shivering one day and the very next day I was loving the blue skies and soaking in the warmth of the sunshine--so were my little plants. I couldn't help thinking what a difference a day makes--then the song came into my mind, what a difference a day makes, twenty -four little hours. Sometimes a life can be altered in twenty-four little hours or even in minutes or seconds and yet in other circumstances a day seems to not make much difference. I think it is a matter of perspective. Our days might seem to make no difference from what we see but I think they always make a difference or have an impact. Are not we each the sum total of the difference our days make? Perhaps if one day is perceived to be just like any other then we are just existing and not living...I don't know. The apostle Peter said that one day is with the Lord as a thousand years and that has been interpreted to mean that in the Lord's time one of his days is equivalent to a thousand of our years. From that perspective one of our days is an incredibly short period of time to the Lord and little doesn't begin to describe the twenty-four hours within that short short day.
In church last Sunday we sang the hymn Abide With Me with text by Henry F. Lyte. The words Swift to its close ebbs out life's little day struck a chord with me and even made me a get a little teary-eyed. Especially now that I am seeing more of my youthful days in the rear-view mirror on my life's journey, I am increasingly more aware of just how brief this earthly existence is. The description given by James in the New Testament seems very apt, that life is even a vapour that appears for a little time then vanisheth away and yet, this brief life is the time we have been given to prepare to meet God again. (It is interesting that as we age our eyes have difficulty seeing things that are up close but things that are farther away become clearer. Maybe that corresponds somehow with how we start seeing our past more clearly as we get older. Since our lifetimes are very short from an eternal perspective maybe we see our youth in the side mirror and things are closer than they appear) Sometimes we feel we don't have enough hours in the day but at other times we still act like we have all the time in the world. Our Father in Heaven tells us to wisely use our time, to work while the sun shines, to not procrastinate. He also tells us to not run faster than we have strength to do so.
I find it perplexing that many gospel truths unpondered seem to be at odds with each other. In the Book of Mormon we read that we are less than the dust of the earth but in the Doctrine and Covenants we read that the worth of souls is great in the sight of God. The fact that both of these points of view are correct is clarified through perspective and balance. How can God, who hath measured the waters in the hollow of his hand, and meted out heaven with the span, and comprehended the dust of the earth in a measure, and weighed the mountains in scales, and the hills in a balance {Isaiah 40:12} know when one sparrow falls to the earth or when one of his multitude of children on one small planet out of many worlds is hurting? I think a more appropriate question would be how could he not know? To narrow things to our mortal perspective, a trained and skilled doctor in an emergency room uses his abilities to massage a heart with his hands to keep a patient alive and then moves on to use fewer than 10 stitches to close a minor wound. A busy mother of young children has clothes to wash, meals to prepare, carpools to drive but she still stops to listen intently as her small child talks on and on about seeing a potato bug on the sidewalk. Firemen risk their lives to save babies from burning buildings and take their time to get kittens out of tall trees. On an almost daily basis we do big things of little significance and little things of major importance. Learning how to use our time wisely---how to appropriately distribute our energy---how to decide what is most deserving of our attention---how to choose the good and then the better over the good and the best over the better--this knowledge helps us to get the most out of each day. Learning these lessons are part of growing up but I think much more than that they are part of growing closer to God and letting him teach us about balance.
The world, or more accurately worldliness, can upset balance in our lives. More and more things of little worth are given more weight and importance. We spend too much time finding out all about what is wrong with other people's lives and too little time increasing what is right in our own lives. An inordinate amount of emphasis is placed on recreation and entertainment where much less emphasis is placed on work and service. In Proverbs we find out that a false balance is an abomination to the Lord. I think a false balance refers to an inaccurate weight. For example in a market if the scales weigh too heavy then we are charged more money for less product. We work more for less substance. Daniel talks about being weighed in the balance and found wanting. When we leave this brief existence on earth we don't take our prized possessions--our stuff--we do take the things money can't buy--the intangibles--love, integrity, trust--- we don't take diplomas or trophies or ribbons---we do take experience, lessons learned, wisdom, multiplied talents--I envision it kind of like me when I get weighed at the Doctor's office...I am always upset by the number on the scale so I take off my shoes, set down my purse, am tempted to take off earrings---when our earthly lives are weighed we take off or set down all of the stuff, the things and we are left with the lessons, the feelings, the thoughts---if we have only focused on the stuff then we will be found wanting spiritually.
So...all the little hours, days, weeks, months, and years add up to a life that is very brief but when weighed in the balance of eternity by our Heavenly Father who knows our worth...what a difference a day makes.
Monday, June 7, 2010
A Package---For Me?
I received a delightful package in the mail the other day. It was from a very sweet and special cousin. I opened the package to find it full of Willy Wonka Sensationals Candy. My cousin sent it in response to a blog I wrote about the Willy Wonka Candy. She enclosed a cute card with a message that encouraged me to share so that I wouldn't have to wriggle into my pantihose (a reference to another blog). I was touched by her generosity but I have to admit I was thrilled that she reads my blog. In my more self-centered and insecure moments I find myself envying bloggers who have 50 or more followers---okay sometimes I envy bloggers who have 10 followers but I appreciate my friends and family who take time to read my blog. I like to think I go for quality over quantity when it comes to number of followers. I am fully aware that people have more important things to do with their time--like tweezing unwanted facial hair--than read my blog and I do write mainly to hone my writing skills but it is nice to think that somewhere out there I have brought a smile to someone's face or given someone something to ponder--while tweezing unwanted facial hair. Anyway...I have tried to share the bounty of goodies but I have still ended up eating too many myself and have further distorted my girlish figure...but even that cannot dampen the delight that arrived with the package and resurfaces with each devoured piece of cherished confection.
Whenever I receive an unexpected package in the mail it feels like Christmas. (Let's drive any thoughts of the Uni bomber or Anthrax far away from the front of our minds for a few blissful moments) Most of the packages we receive are job-related items for my husband or books or aquarium stuff---things ordered online. Only on rare occasions do I receive a package addressed to me and when it is from a family member or a friend that package infuses my being with sweet anticipation and holds just as much promise of a special surprise as the biggest shiniest Christmas package holds for an eager child. (you're right, I could use a little more excitement in my life)
Actually, I have received very few surprise packages over the course of my lifetime thus far. (It makes me feel so eloquent to use the word thus.) Growing up, the family members I was closest to lived in the same state and most were frugal enough not to mail something they could deliver in person. Perhaps that is why a few special deliveries stand out in my mind...
On one of my childhood birthdays I received a surprise package from my Aunt Lillian. Let me give a bit of background information on my Aunt Lillian... She and my grandma were the only girls in a family of mostly boys. I heard several stories about how Aunt Lillian was the princess in her family and my grandma was more like Cinderella. I suspect neither my aunt nor my grandma would tell their story that way but that was how I heard it and my grandma did do her sister's laundry for a one dollar a day to support her family after my grandpa passed away. The two sisters did seem to be as different as night and day. My grandma was always frugal and practical. She rarely indulged in leisurely activities and her main satisfaction was derived from caring for her family. My Aunt Lil's husband had been a successful businessman and she always had a desire for the finer things in life, things of a tangible nature. She wasn't exactly among the Rich and Famous but she was well-to-do and as my mother would say, she had quite a 'highfalutin' attitude. Once in awhile Aunt Lil would treat her less advantaged relatives (my family) to an outing like dinner at a nice restaurant or ice-cream at Snelgroves followed by a visit to her home to watch Lawerence Welk on her new color television. I remember her being interested in health food so when we visited she would serve Papaya juice. I thought it was delicious and very exotic tasting--before I even knew what exotic meant. She also gave us little pastilles that tasted like what I imagined perfume would taste like. Whenever Aunt Lillian went to give a restaurant her patronage the employees became her personal staff. She was very demanding and inevitably there was something wrong with food. She could be quite intimidating but I thought of my encounters with my great aunt Lillian as being quite the exciting adventures. Back to the package---it was a big surprise because she had never before given me a gift for my birthday. It was an apron with narrow pockets for crayons and one of those plastic coloring mats that you can color and then erase. The crayons didn't color very well but the gift was unique, and it had arrived in the mail, and it was from Aunt Lillian.
Another surprise package that I still remember fondly and with greater clarity than my 'Aunt Lil package' was sent to me by my Aunt Elva who lived in New Jersey---the Mysterious East which was almost just as exciting as the Orient to my young fanciful mind. Aunt Elva was really my mom's cousin but my grandmother raised her when both of her parents were killed in an automobile accident. I only met her twice I think which added to her intriguing persona. My aunt Elva was an excellent seamstress so she had hand made the contents of package which increased their sentimental value tenfold. Apparently my mother had told aunt Elva how much I enjoyed playing with Barbie dolls. The expression on the face of a deep sea diving sunken treasure hunter upon opening a barnacled chest filled with gold doubloons could not have rivaled the look of pure joy on my face when I opened my package to discover layers of individually bagged barbie outfits. I think a couple of dolls were even included. One was a Tammy doll that was kind of like a girl-next-door version of the more cosmopolitan model-esque Barbie. Tammy and Barbie could share homemade Barbie clothes even though Tammy had a smaller bust, a thicker waist and bigger calves---in other words she was more realistic and less a poster girl for plastic surgery. Anyway---there were ball gowns of luxurious fabric complete with fur stoles, stylish pantsuits, play outfits complete with matching kerchiefs, (I am now speaking a foreign language to those not born in the 50's or 60's) and even pajamas. I cannot begin to tell you how much it meant to me to have such a fine wardrobe for my dolls. I was the envy of any friend or neighbor who came to play dolls. My imagination was fueled and my pretend play went to a whole new level. I kept putting those clothes back in the bags for years until I turned them over to my daughters. Incredible...
One more package of note was received a few years ago from my cousin's wife. She and I had had a phone conversation in which we discovered that we both loved the 1964 television special of Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer. She mentioned she has a collection of figurines from the show and I mentioned how great that would be. Not long after our phone conversation I was surprised and elated to receive a package in the mail containing collectible stuffed versions of the main characters from my favorite Christmas special. (She later reassured me that they were originally purchased for a small amount but they are priceless to me) I happily display them each year at Christmas---symbols of good childhood memories and thoughtful gestures.
Sometimes joy comes in the mail.
Random thought---I think a dictionary of phonetically spelled words would be helpful. I consider myself to be a capable speller but I do get frustrated when I am trying to look up the meaning of a word I don't know how to spell...
Whenever I receive an unexpected package in the mail it feels like Christmas. (Let's drive any thoughts of the Uni bomber or Anthrax far away from the front of our minds for a few blissful moments) Most of the packages we receive are job-related items for my husband or books or aquarium stuff---things ordered online. Only on rare occasions do I receive a package addressed to me and when it is from a family member or a friend that package infuses my being with sweet anticipation and holds just as much promise of a special surprise as the biggest shiniest Christmas package holds for an eager child. (you're right, I could use a little more excitement in my life)
Actually, I have received very few surprise packages over the course of my lifetime thus far. (It makes me feel so eloquent to use the word thus.) Growing up, the family members I was closest to lived in the same state and most were frugal enough not to mail something they could deliver in person. Perhaps that is why a few special deliveries stand out in my mind...
On one of my childhood birthdays I received a surprise package from my Aunt Lillian. Let me give a bit of background information on my Aunt Lillian... She and my grandma were the only girls in a family of mostly boys. I heard several stories about how Aunt Lillian was the princess in her family and my grandma was more like Cinderella. I suspect neither my aunt nor my grandma would tell their story that way but that was how I heard it and my grandma did do her sister's laundry for a one dollar a day to support her family after my grandpa passed away. The two sisters did seem to be as different as night and day. My grandma was always frugal and practical. She rarely indulged in leisurely activities and her main satisfaction was derived from caring for her family. My Aunt Lil's husband had been a successful businessman and she always had a desire for the finer things in life, things of a tangible nature. She wasn't exactly among the Rich and Famous but she was well-to-do and as my mother would say, she had quite a 'highfalutin' attitude. Once in awhile Aunt Lil would treat her less advantaged relatives (my family) to an outing like dinner at a nice restaurant or ice-cream at Snelgroves followed by a visit to her home to watch Lawerence Welk on her new color television. I remember her being interested in health food so when we visited she would serve Papaya juice. I thought it was delicious and very exotic tasting--before I even knew what exotic meant. She also gave us little pastilles that tasted like what I imagined perfume would taste like. Whenever Aunt Lillian went to give a restaurant her patronage the employees became her personal staff. She was very demanding and inevitably there was something wrong with food. She could be quite intimidating but I thought of my encounters with my great aunt Lillian as being quite the exciting adventures. Back to the package---it was a big surprise because she had never before given me a gift for my birthday. It was an apron with narrow pockets for crayons and one of those plastic coloring mats that you can color and then erase. The crayons didn't color very well but the gift was unique, and it had arrived in the mail, and it was from Aunt Lillian.
Another surprise package that I still remember fondly and with greater clarity than my 'Aunt Lil package' was sent to me by my Aunt Elva who lived in New Jersey---the Mysterious East which was almost just as exciting as the Orient to my young fanciful mind. Aunt Elva was really my mom's cousin but my grandmother raised her when both of her parents were killed in an automobile accident. I only met her twice I think which added to her intriguing persona. My aunt Elva was an excellent seamstress so she had hand made the contents of package which increased their sentimental value tenfold. Apparently my mother had told aunt Elva how much I enjoyed playing with Barbie dolls. The expression on the face of a deep sea diving sunken treasure hunter upon opening a barnacled chest filled with gold doubloons could not have rivaled the look of pure joy on my face when I opened my package to discover layers of individually bagged barbie outfits. I think a couple of dolls were even included. One was a Tammy doll that was kind of like a girl-next-door version of the more cosmopolitan model-esque Barbie. Tammy and Barbie could share homemade Barbie clothes even though Tammy had a smaller bust, a thicker waist and bigger calves---in other words she was more realistic and less a poster girl for plastic surgery. Anyway---there were ball gowns of luxurious fabric complete with fur stoles, stylish pantsuits, play outfits complete with matching kerchiefs, (I am now speaking a foreign language to those not born in the 50's or 60's) and even pajamas. I cannot begin to tell you how much it meant to me to have such a fine wardrobe for my dolls. I was the envy of any friend or neighbor who came to play dolls. My imagination was fueled and my pretend play went to a whole new level. I kept putting those clothes back in the bags for years until I turned them over to my daughters. Incredible...
One more package of note was received a few years ago from my cousin's wife. She and I had had a phone conversation in which we discovered that we both loved the 1964 television special of Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer. She mentioned she has a collection of figurines from the show and I mentioned how great that would be. Not long after our phone conversation I was surprised and elated to receive a package in the mail containing collectible stuffed versions of the main characters from my favorite Christmas special. (She later reassured me that they were originally purchased for a small amount but they are priceless to me) I happily display them each year at Christmas---symbols of good childhood memories and thoughtful gestures.
Sometimes joy comes in the mail.
Random thought---I think a dictionary of phonetically spelled words would be helpful. I consider myself to be a capable speller but I do get frustrated when I am trying to look up the meaning of a word I don't know how to spell...
Saturday, June 5, 2010
A Doggone Good Question
Sometimes I ask myself the question, 'Why do we have dogs?' (Not why do dogs exist but why does our family own two of them) Maybe it's because I have always fancied how unique plastic carpet runners look on my furniture or the slightly wild texture that dog hair adds to my clothing. Maybe it's because it forces me to be vigilant about keeping doors closed, things picked up off the floor and food away from the edge of the table or because I prefer the soft sounds of whining and snuffling under my door to the startling sounds of my alarm clock... Of course the real reason is because we had an angel dog named Beth for eight years who made our home somehow more complete and when she passed away we told our two youngest children still living at home that we would get another dog. As much as we missed Beth we didn't miss the hairy coating on all surfaces in our home or the squishy land mines in the grass so it took us a year and a half before we actually got another dog.
We rescued Zoey from the shelter. One of our daughters was drawn to Zoey because she was sitting quietly while all the other dogs were barking and she has the captivating quirk of one lazy ear that flops while her other ear stands up straight. She was skinny and only cautiously friendly. She was supposed to be a Greyhound/Visla mix. We were later told she was probably mostly Belgian Malanois--definitely a herding breed of some sort. She does run like a greyhound and she is quite smart like a herding dog but she is very skittish and hides her fears behind frightening barking and gnashing of teeth---not real warm to people. She also bites at peoples' heels and loves to pull up chunks of grass just for fun. Did I mention we noticed right away that Zoey was definitely another dog---not like our Bethy at all.
Zoey was so much fun that we decided to get yet another dog. Actually we were hoping a second dog would help Zoey use up some of her energy and calm her. My husband was tired of being outnumbered by girls so he wanted a male dog---a beagle to be specific. (You see the captain of the ship on the television show called Enterprise---yet another Star Trek byproduct-- has a beagle so if my husband has a beagle then that takes him one step closer to being captain of a star ship--which would make him very happy and he would be very good at it too) We have now had Bo the Tri-Colored Beagle for a year. He is cute and affectionate. He is a voracious eater which I understand is part of the breed and he loves to chew. He chewed up a remote for my husband's big screen television (my husband does share the television with the rest of the family, but like the remote control, it is really his) and he still kept his happy home which proves how much my husband likes him. I think Zoey enjoys having company and she behaves a bit better just to show us that she is the good dog---because she doesn't have drooling jowls that slime furniture and people, she doesn't run away to find food at the neighbors, and she doesn't chew up remotes. My youngest daughter says that Zoey is like a thin exotic model and Bo her wealthy portly little man friend. They do make an interesting pair. Zoey loves to play more than anything and Bo loves to eat more than anything. They are both a bit crazy but then again so are we---that is why we are their owners...
One particularly pesky habit all too often displayed by both of our dogs gives me good reason to ask the question, 'Why do we have dogs?' Zoey and Bo rush to the fence like barking maniacs whenever a dog on the other side gets too close to the fence or breathes too loudly. The barking would be bad enough but they also claw and bite at the fence and then gag up pieces of fence. We have four neighbors bordering our backyard. Three of them have dogs. We have shredded fence slats and posts in three main spots. I know that according to dog experts they are exhibiting territorial dominant aggressive behavior---they are defending their space but during flights of fancy I can imagine the neighbor dogs taunting our dogs by muttering offensive remarks up close to the fence--- I've seen cats that could take you---you bark like a girl dog---I see you eat dog food, my people feed me steak off the grill---you are so lucky there's a fence here---What if people were that territorial? (Maybe they are--maybe I am---like when I grumble when someone pulls into a parking space next to me before I have had a chance to exit my vehicle or when I would get kind of irritated when a very tall adult would sit in a seat right in front of one of my children at a movie or when I feel crowded when another family puts their blanket a little too close to my picnic at the park---you know those little moments of guilty irritation--moments that I try to follow up with some self-talk on the need to share---luckily I don't bite fences---I don't even like toothpicks) When our dogs exhibit this frustrating behavior I try to tell them 'no' in my most authoritative voice and they stop---for at least two minutes or until my neighbors call their dogs in either because the barking is getting to them or my repeated commands are getting to them.
My daughter and I frequently muse about what it would be like if people acted like dogs . We are so thankful that people don't greet one another with highly personal sniffing and can you imagine hearing human scratching , growling or biting at the wall dividing bathroom stalls or voting booths or any other confined spaces where people might get to feeling territorial or defensive? On the other hand, I can picture dogs relaxing on the sofa watching television while their owners pound the wall when the person in the neighboring apartment is being noisy and saying to themselves--'there they go again, why do they do that?' I blame this line of thinking partially on a comedian/musician named Jim Stafford who years ago as part of a comedy routine asked the question, "Do you ever wonder what your dogs do when you're gone all day?" He said he thought dogs re-arrange the furniture. I had so much fun thinking about that---I really did.
Our dogs do have their good points. Zoey looks so cute and hopeful when she wants to play and if I exercised her to her heart's content I would be a lot thinner! Bo likes to cuddle and has a constant adorable hound dog expression. Petting the dogs is very soothing. I have dogs because they love me, they are fine with my silly jokes, they enthusiastically greet me, and they constantly remind me that simple pleasures are priceless and precious. My grand kids do all this and more and they don't bite the fence. Why do we have dogs?
We rescued Zoey from the shelter. One of our daughters was drawn to Zoey because she was sitting quietly while all the other dogs were barking and she has the captivating quirk of one lazy ear that flops while her other ear stands up straight. She was skinny and only cautiously friendly. She was supposed to be a Greyhound/Visla mix. We were later told she was probably mostly Belgian Malanois--definitely a herding breed of some sort. She does run like a greyhound and she is quite smart like a herding dog but she is very skittish and hides her fears behind frightening barking and gnashing of teeth---not real warm to people. She also bites at peoples' heels and loves to pull up chunks of grass just for fun. Did I mention we noticed right away that Zoey was definitely another dog---not like our Bethy at all.
Zoey was so much fun that we decided to get yet another dog. Actually we were hoping a second dog would help Zoey use up some of her energy and calm her. My husband was tired of being outnumbered by girls so he wanted a male dog---a beagle to be specific. (You see the captain of the ship on the television show called Enterprise---yet another Star Trek byproduct-- has a beagle so if my husband has a beagle then that takes him one step closer to being captain of a star ship--which would make him very happy and he would be very good at it too) We have now had Bo the Tri-Colored Beagle for a year. He is cute and affectionate. He is a voracious eater which I understand is part of the breed and he loves to chew. He chewed up a remote for my husband's big screen television (my husband does share the television with the rest of the family, but like the remote control, it is really his) and he still kept his happy home which proves how much my husband likes him. I think Zoey enjoys having company and she behaves a bit better just to show us that she is the good dog---because she doesn't have drooling jowls that slime furniture and people, she doesn't run away to find food at the neighbors, and she doesn't chew up remotes. My youngest daughter says that Zoey is like a thin exotic model and Bo her wealthy portly little man friend. They do make an interesting pair. Zoey loves to play more than anything and Bo loves to eat more than anything. They are both a bit crazy but then again so are we---that is why we are their owners...
One particularly pesky habit all too often displayed by both of our dogs gives me good reason to ask the question, 'Why do we have dogs?' Zoey and Bo rush to the fence like barking maniacs whenever a dog on the other side gets too close to the fence or breathes too loudly. The barking would be bad enough but they also claw and bite at the fence and then gag up pieces of fence. We have four neighbors bordering our backyard. Three of them have dogs. We have shredded fence slats and posts in three main spots. I know that according to dog experts they are exhibiting territorial dominant aggressive behavior---they are defending their space but during flights of fancy I can imagine the neighbor dogs taunting our dogs by muttering offensive remarks up close to the fence--- I've seen cats that could take you---you bark like a girl dog---I see you eat dog food, my people feed me steak off the grill---you are so lucky there's a fence here---What if people were that territorial? (Maybe they are--maybe I am---like when I grumble when someone pulls into a parking space next to me before I have had a chance to exit my vehicle or when I would get kind of irritated when a very tall adult would sit in a seat right in front of one of my children at a movie or when I feel crowded when another family puts their blanket a little too close to my picnic at the park---you know those little moments of guilty irritation--moments that I try to follow up with some self-talk on the need to share---luckily I don't bite fences---I don't even like toothpicks) When our dogs exhibit this frustrating behavior I try to tell them 'no' in my most authoritative voice and they stop---for at least two minutes or until my neighbors call their dogs in either because the barking is getting to them or my repeated commands are getting to them.
My daughter and I frequently muse about what it would be like if people acted like dogs . We are so thankful that people don't greet one another with highly personal sniffing and can you imagine hearing human scratching , growling or biting at the wall dividing bathroom stalls or voting booths or any other confined spaces where people might get to feeling territorial or defensive? On the other hand, I can picture dogs relaxing on the sofa watching television while their owners pound the wall when the person in the neighboring apartment is being noisy and saying to themselves--'there they go again, why do they do that?' I blame this line of thinking partially on a comedian/musician named Jim Stafford who years ago as part of a comedy routine asked the question, "Do you ever wonder what your dogs do when you're gone all day?" He said he thought dogs re-arrange the furniture. I had so much fun thinking about that---I really did.
Our dogs do have their good points. Zoey looks so cute and hopeful when she wants to play and if I exercised her to her heart's content I would be a lot thinner! Bo likes to cuddle and has a constant adorable hound dog expression. Petting the dogs is very soothing. I have dogs because they love me, they are fine with my silly jokes, they enthusiastically greet me, and they constantly remind me that simple pleasures are priceless and precious. My grand kids do all this and more and they don't bite the fence. Why do we have dogs?
Tuesday, June 1, 2010
Where to?
My daughter passed her driver's test last Saturday and that got me to thinking about driving and how much of it I have done in my lifetime. I think it would be interesting if someone kept a log of all the miles they drive from the time they get their license until they stop driving---maybe someone has...
I still have a few memories of my Driver's Ed classes. Once the teacher had us swing by his house and he came out eating something and I complained about him not bringing back something for his drivers. One time I was driving down a curved slope on my way back to the school from a road drive and I got distracted and made a slightly scary over correction to avoid jumping the curb. My teacher stayed very calm and I was very embarrassed but thankful I hadn't crashed. Speaking of crashes--- I also remember a gruesome movie that was shown to all of the Driver's Ed classes. I think it was called mechanized death or something. (An updated version is still shown today) It showed the gory consequences of careless driving. Multiple Driver's Ed classes were packed like sardines in one classroom so I had to stand throughout the entire movie trying hard not to faint (and I don't faint easily). The movie made a lasting impression and for the most part accomplished its purpose of scaring me into being cautious but I think it also had something to do with me not being very eager to drive once I got my license. My Mom would think up errands just to get me driving. Oddly enough, something that helped me relax a bit about driving was riding with a gutsy friend of mine either to college classes or just goofing off. She got a cute little white stick shift Pontiac Sunbird for a graduation gift. She could eat, drink, and shift with the greatest of ease. No worries---
Before I got married I logged most of my driving hours commuting from my home to college. Then there were drives downtown in my little blue Pinto to work at J.C. Penney (I got cheap thrills and good steering practice going quite fast down their parking ramp) and then drives to discos including one clear in Orem---The Disco Palace I think it was called--(I hear laughing but it was truly a big event in an LDS disco queen's life to go to the super cool Disco Palace) that I went to one winter with some friends. I drove in my little Mustang II with a heater and defrost that didn't work. I took blankets for my friends but since even back then I knew it wasn't good to drive with a blanket over your legs, my dancing feet were pretty much frozen by the time I made it home.
After marriage my driving was mainly to and from work and when our first daughter was going on two we moved to a place I had only known before as a turning around spot on Sunday drives. It put us quite a ways from my parents. Although a friend from California once said that what is considered a long commute or drive to a Utahan really isn't long at all. As a stay-at-home mom most of my driving consisted of short trips---to the grocery store, the library, dentist and doctor appointments---the main long trips were to visit my parents
Once my kids were in school and old enough to have social calendars of their own I soon fell--notice I did say fell not slipped-- into the role of Chauffeur Mom. Of course the only thing I had in common with regular chauffeurs was the driving and the waiting. I never had a real smart looking uniform and there were times I wished for a clear divider between myself and the back seats. It would have been soothing to my sometimes frazzled nerves to block out some of the arguing and whining. But on second thought with a divider I would have missed out on a lot of fun and interesting conversations...
All of our kids at one time attended schools out of our neighborhood so I spent a fair amount of time taking my kids to school and picking them up. Luckily we carpooled most of the time. Carpools bring their own unique drama and adventure to daily life---for the most part we were fortunate(blessed in some cases) to be in good ones. After giving me a day off my husband remarked how challenging it must be to get anything done because of my day being so broken up into small windows of time. I think I gave him an 'if you only knew' smile. The days that were not my days to drive did hold a certain amount of luxury. All the school driving was hectic but it definitely had its good times and brings back good memories. It was fun to hear the chatter of the kids. Sometimes they would play games. Sometimes they would be very tired and quiet and sometimes they would have fun listening to our eclectic collection of music. Weird Al, Kermit Unpigged, Cheech Marin's songs for kids, Dr. Demento---were all part of our School Car Pool play list. You can't help but have a good time listening to Miss Piggy and Ozzy Osbourne rock out on Born To Be Wild. Of course in the early days we would listen to a local radio station for kids called The Imagination Station. It was there that we were introduced to such unique songs as Fish Heads and Star Trekin. I enjoyed that station every bit as much as my kids. (okay--maybe even more) It made me giggle and made driving fun. Unfortunately, the station was bought out by Radio Disney which is kind of like your favorite Mom and Pop drive-in being bought out by McDonald's. There goes the uniqueness. Sometimes I felt like the car and I were on autopilot because of traveling the same roads so often to and from school but those days passed all too quickly. For all my complaining, there was actually something comforting driving my kids places. The day you wave to your child as they take off by themselves in the car with a license of their own is the day you know nothing will ever be the same again...
So any way...I have driven many many miles since I got my very first brand new super exciting driver's license and sometimes I love to have someone else drive me places, but after having a mom who wasn't able to drive and watching my Dad have to give up driving and all the independence that goes with it when he got Alzheimer's, I am grateful that I have a license to drive. It does come in handy having your children be drivers (Someday they will probably be taking me to doctor and dentist appointments and hopefully to the library---maybe we can listen to Weird Al---) although at first it is indescribably frightening.
Happy driving! What's the view from your windshield?
I still have a few memories of my Driver's Ed classes. Once the teacher had us swing by his house and he came out eating something and I complained about him not bringing back something for his drivers. One time I was driving down a curved slope on my way back to the school from a road drive and I got distracted and made a slightly scary over correction to avoid jumping the curb. My teacher stayed very calm and I was very embarrassed but thankful I hadn't crashed. Speaking of crashes--- I also remember a gruesome movie that was shown to all of the Driver's Ed classes. I think it was called mechanized death or something. (An updated version is still shown today) It showed the gory consequences of careless driving. Multiple Driver's Ed classes were packed like sardines in one classroom so I had to stand throughout the entire movie trying hard not to faint (and I don't faint easily). The movie made a lasting impression and for the most part accomplished its purpose of scaring me into being cautious but I think it also had something to do with me not being very eager to drive once I got my license. My Mom would think up errands just to get me driving. Oddly enough, something that helped me relax a bit about driving was riding with a gutsy friend of mine either to college classes or just goofing off. She got a cute little white stick shift Pontiac Sunbird for a graduation gift. She could eat, drink, and shift with the greatest of ease. No worries---
Before I got married I logged most of my driving hours commuting from my home to college. Then there were drives downtown in my little blue Pinto to work at J.C. Penney (I got cheap thrills and good steering practice going quite fast down their parking ramp) and then drives to discos including one clear in Orem---The Disco Palace I think it was called--(I hear laughing but it was truly a big event in an LDS disco queen's life to go to the super cool Disco Palace) that I went to one winter with some friends. I drove in my little Mustang II with a heater and defrost that didn't work. I took blankets for my friends but since even back then I knew it wasn't good to drive with a blanket over your legs, my dancing feet were pretty much frozen by the time I made it home.
After marriage my driving was mainly to and from work and when our first daughter was going on two we moved to a place I had only known before as a turning around spot on Sunday drives. It put us quite a ways from my parents. Although a friend from California once said that what is considered a long commute or drive to a Utahan really isn't long at all. As a stay-at-home mom most of my driving consisted of short trips---to the grocery store, the library, dentist and doctor appointments---the main long trips were to visit my parents
Once my kids were in school and old enough to have social calendars of their own I soon fell--notice I did say fell not slipped-- into the role of Chauffeur Mom. Of course the only thing I had in common with regular chauffeurs was the driving and the waiting. I never had a real smart looking uniform and there were times I wished for a clear divider between myself and the back seats. It would have been soothing to my sometimes frazzled nerves to block out some of the arguing and whining. But on second thought with a divider I would have missed out on a lot of fun and interesting conversations...
All of our kids at one time attended schools out of our neighborhood so I spent a fair amount of time taking my kids to school and picking them up. Luckily we carpooled most of the time. Carpools bring their own unique drama and adventure to daily life---for the most part we were fortunate(blessed in some cases) to be in good ones. After giving me a day off my husband remarked how challenging it must be to get anything done because of my day being so broken up into small windows of time. I think I gave him an 'if you only knew' smile. The days that were not my days to drive did hold a certain amount of luxury. All the school driving was hectic but it definitely had its good times and brings back good memories. It was fun to hear the chatter of the kids. Sometimes they would play games. Sometimes they would be very tired and quiet and sometimes they would have fun listening to our eclectic collection of music. Weird Al, Kermit Unpigged, Cheech Marin's songs for kids, Dr. Demento---were all part of our School Car Pool play list. You can't help but have a good time listening to Miss Piggy and Ozzy Osbourne rock out on Born To Be Wild. Of course in the early days we would listen to a local radio station for kids called The Imagination Station. It was there that we were introduced to such unique songs as Fish Heads and Star Trekin. I enjoyed that station every bit as much as my kids. (okay--maybe even more) It made me giggle and made driving fun. Unfortunately, the station was bought out by Radio Disney which is kind of like your favorite Mom and Pop drive-in being bought out by McDonald's. There goes the uniqueness. Sometimes I felt like the car and I were on autopilot because of traveling the same roads so often to and from school but those days passed all too quickly. For all my complaining, there was actually something comforting driving my kids places. The day you wave to your child as they take off by themselves in the car with a license of their own is the day you know nothing will ever be the same again...
So any way...I have driven many many miles since I got my very first brand new super exciting driver's license and sometimes I love to have someone else drive me places, but after having a mom who wasn't able to drive and watching my Dad have to give up driving and all the independence that goes with it when he got Alzheimer's, I am grateful that I have a license to drive. It does come in handy having your children be drivers (Someday they will probably be taking me to doctor and dentist appointments and hopefully to the library---maybe we can listen to Weird Al---) although at first it is indescribably frightening.
Happy driving! What's the view from your windshield?
Monday, May 31, 2010
Remembering
Before we put the wash out on Monday's wash line---
A good friend of mine pointed out some possible 'false elements' in my analogy in my last blog in which I compared illegal immigrants to thieves who break into my home (which I extended to include my country).
First of all, I really appreciate her sharing the view from her window. In writing a blog I want to share my views but I would also like to have others share their views with me. When I hear what others have to say I gain new perspectives and I give further thought to my opinions and have a stronger desire to broaden my exploration of the topics I choose to write about.
Now back to my analogy...my friend pointed out that the United States has made the laws responsible for allowing the illegal immigrants to help themselves to free education, medical care, etc. In some respects our country does leave the door open with tempting good stuff left out on the counter within easy reach but then sporadically gets angry with intruders taking advantage of such an appealing opportunity. My friend mentioned how shameful it is that people are deported in the middle of the night and families are torn apart because suddenly the United States decides to tighten those laws that have been so loose. She also pointed out that the United States often makes it a ridiculously long and difficult process for people to obtain legal residence. All of these points are valid and well made. They are also well taken. The United States has been wishy washy at best and hypocritical at worst when it comes to matters of immigration. We would do well in this country to put our energies and passion into correcting or changing ineffectual laws and defending our constitution instead of into name calling, side-taking, and venomous attitudes toward other people.
If I leave my home unattended and the doors open then when someone comes onto my property and helps themselves to my possessions then yes, I need to be more responsible in properly safeguarding my home but the person is still trespassing and they are still guilty of a crime. People commit crimes for various reasons. Some people just want to take because they can or because they feel they have a right of some sort, others take because they feel they have no choice. I wonder what I would do if I felt like the only way to properly take care of my family and give them a future would be to flee my country? How would I feel about the tantalizing freedoms just across the border and what would I do to obtain them?
It is obviously necessary and wise to protect and defend our borders. Laws need to be clearly defined and consistently enforced. People from other countries should be welcome but should also be understanding of our cause for caution. People who want to really immigrate need to want to become Americans. This doesn't mean that they should be expected to give up all ties to their native country or turn their backs on their heritage. It would be un-American of us to expect that but welcoming positive cultural contributions is a very American thing to do. Notice I say positive contributions---not all cultural customs are good (Including some American cultural customs). Some should be left behind because they contributed to the reasons for wanting to leave the home country in the first place. I think sometimes we have become so engrossed with embracing diversity in our country that we end up giving a cold shoulder to unity. Elder Dallin H. Oaks said that diversity is a means to an end not an end---unity should be the end goal. I really like the Oxford Dictionary definition of unity from an artistic perspective: the state of forming a complete and pleasing whole. Each of us regardless of ethnic background should bring our best to forming a more perfect union---building a strong nation under God with liberty and justice for all. (Yes, here is where music by the Tabernacle Choir fades in...)
That's enough for now...
Today is Memorial Day---a day to pause and think about the fact that freedom has a cost. Our freedoms have been won and defended at the sacrifice of young promising lives. We enjoy the personal circumstances in which we live because of sacrifices of those who have gone before us in our families. Today is a day to remember and to be grateful.
When I was a kid Memorial Day was a day of visiting the cemetery and having a backyard barbeque. The day began with cutting bouquets of lilacs, irises, snowballs, and peonies and putting them in a bucket of water to take to the cemetery. It was my job to hold the bucket securely between my feet. We would stop and pick up my grandma on our way to Elysian Gardens in Salt Lake. That was the only cemetery we visited because my Dad's deceased family members were all buried in Texas. My sister spooked me by telling me that it was bad luck to step on grave stones. I used to worry about what would happen to me if I came close at all to the markers. I was fascinated by reading the markers and wondering about the lives of those who rested there. The cemetery was like one epic drama with a variety of characters and time periods and numerous story lines but only scattered details. There were elements of tragedy and true love, valor and mystery. To this day I thoroughly enjoy walking through cemetaries. For the most part they are peaceful and lend themselves to quiet contemplation. However, I don't think I would relish walking through one at night. Cemeteries are resting places but some people seem to rest more serenely than others...
It seems like older people are the main denizens of decorating cemeteries. They most likely have a greater conscious appreciation for the value of life and of remembering. They have grown closer to those whose graves they visit both in a physical sense and in a spiritual sense. My mother-in-law was just saying how hard it was for her now to go to the cemeteries and that it was our(my husband and I) turn to take up the tradition. I have never been very consistent about making the cemetery rounds on Memorial Day. I think I just might correct that. Cemeteries do more than honor the dead--- they celebrate life. Cemeteries decorated with flowers and balloons and pinwheels show that life continues. The sting of death was truly taken away through the resurrection of Jesus Christ. Life and death co-exist in mortality. Death is not the end of living and the grave is not the final resting place but it does seem appropriate that our deceased physical bodies rest in the bosom of the earth until they are joined with our spirits in eternal life.
Memorial Day is the first entry in a parade of long summer days. It is a day of breaking out the barbeque grill and dusting off the outside furniture. When I was a kid it was one of the first days (after Field Day at school) that I was allowed to wear sun suits(remember those?) or shorts.
Snow shovels have been moved behind rakes in the shed. Christmas lights are gathering dust while wind chimes are washed and hung. Coats and sweaters have been pushed back into the dark recesses of closets. Sno Shacks have popped up as spots of color in asphalt gardens. Salads sound much better than soup and the thought of homemade icecream makes our mouths water. Summer is coming...Do you notice that our anticipation of a wonderful summer ahead is heightened by our memories of summers past?
A good friend of mine pointed out some possible 'false elements' in my analogy in my last blog in which I compared illegal immigrants to thieves who break into my home (which I extended to include my country).
First of all, I really appreciate her sharing the view from her window. In writing a blog I want to share my views but I would also like to have others share their views with me. When I hear what others have to say I gain new perspectives and I give further thought to my opinions and have a stronger desire to broaden my exploration of the topics I choose to write about.
Now back to my analogy...my friend pointed out that the United States has made the laws responsible for allowing the illegal immigrants to help themselves to free education, medical care, etc. In some respects our country does leave the door open with tempting good stuff left out on the counter within easy reach but then sporadically gets angry with intruders taking advantage of such an appealing opportunity. My friend mentioned how shameful it is that people are deported in the middle of the night and families are torn apart because suddenly the United States decides to tighten those laws that have been so loose. She also pointed out that the United States often makes it a ridiculously long and difficult process for people to obtain legal residence. All of these points are valid and well made. They are also well taken. The United States has been wishy washy at best and hypocritical at worst when it comes to matters of immigration. We would do well in this country to put our energies and passion into correcting or changing ineffectual laws and defending our constitution instead of into name calling, side-taking, and venomous attitudes toward other people.
If I leave my home unattended and the doors open then when someone comes onto my property and helps themselves to my possessions then yes, I need to be more responsible in properly safeguarding my home but the person is still trespassing and they are still guilty of a crime. People commit crimes for various reasons. Some people just want to take because they can or because they feel they have a right of some sort, others take because they feel they have no choice. I wonder what I would do if I felt like the only way to properly take care of my family and give them a future would be to flee my country? How would I feel about the tantalizing freedoms just across the border and what would I do to obtain them?
It is obviously necessary and wise to protect and defend our borders. Laws need to be clearly defined and consistently enforced. People from other countries should be welcome but should also be understanding of our cause for caution. People who want to really immigrate need to want to become Americans. This doesn't mean that they should be expected to give up all ties to their native country or turn their backs on their heritage. It would be un-American of us to expect that but welcoming positive cultural contributions is a very American thing to do. Notice I say positive contributions---not all cultural customs are good (Including some American cultural customs). Some should be left behind because they contributed to the reasons for wanting to leave the home country in the first place. I think sometimes we have become so engrossed with embracing diversity in our country that we end up giving a cold shoulder to unity. Elder Dallin H. Oaks said that diversity is a means to an end not an end---unity should be the end goal. I really like the Oxford Dictionary definition of unity from an artistic perspective: the state of forming a complete and pleasing whole. Each of us regardless of ethnic background should bring our best to forming a more perfect union---building a strong nation under God with liberty and justice for all. (Yes, here is where music by the Tabernacle Choir fades in...)
That's enough for now...
Today is Memorial Day---a day to pause and think about the fact that freedom has a cost. Our freedoms have been won and defended at the sacrifice of young promising lives. We enjoy the personal circumstances in which we live because of sacrifices of those who have gone before us in our families. Today is a day to remember and to be grateful.
When I was a kid Memorial Day was a day of visiting the cemetery and having a backyard barbeque. The day began with cutting bouquets of lilacs, irises, snowballs, and peonies and putting them in a bucket of water to take to the cemetery. It was my job to hold the bucket securely between my feet. We would stop and pick up my grandma on our way to Elysian Gardens in Salt Lake. That was the only cemetery we visited because my Dad's deceased family members were all buried in Texas. My sister spooked me by telling me that it was bad luck to step on grave stones. I used to worry about what would happen to me if I came close at all to the markers. I was fascinated by reading the markers and wondering about the lives of those who rested there. The cemetery was like one epic drama with a variety of characters and time periods and numerous story lines but only scattered details. There were elements of tragedy and true love, valor and mystery. To this day I thoroughly enjoy walking through cemetaries. For the most part they are peaceful and lend themselves to quiet contemplation. However, I don't think I would relish walking through one at night. Cemeteries are resting places but some people seem to rest more serenely than others...
It seems like older people are the main denizens of decorating cemeteries. They most likely have a greater conscious appreciation for the value of life and of remembering. They have grown closer to those whose graves they visit both in a physical sense and in a spiritual sense. My mother-in-law was just saying how hard it was for her now to go to the cemeteries and that it was our(my husband and I) turn to take up the tradition. I have never been very consistent about making the cemetery rounds on Memorial Day. I think I just might correct that. Cemeteries do more than honor the dead--- they celebrate life. Cemeteries decorated with flowers and balloons and pinwheels show that life continues. The sting of death was truly taken away through the resurrection of Jesus Christ. Life and death co-exist in mortality. Death is not the end of living and the grave is not the final resting place but it does seem appropriate that our deceased physical bodies rest in the bosom of the earth until they are joined with our spirits in eternal life.
Memorial Day is the first entry in a parade of long summer days. It is a day of breaking out the barbeque grill and dusting off the outside furniture. When I was a kid it was one of the first days (after Field Day at school) that I was allowed to wear sun suits(remember those?) or shorts.
Snow shovels have been moved behind rakes in the shed. Christmas lights are gathering dust while wind chimes are washed and hung. Coats and sweaters have been pushed back into the dark recesses of closets. Sno Shacks have popped up as spots of color in asphalt gardens. Salads sound much better than soup and the thought of homemade icecream makes our mouths water. Summer is coming...Do you notice that our anticipation of a wonderful summer ahead is heightened by our memories of summers past?
Monday, May 24, 2010
Bordering on Insanity or Who Gets Left Out in the Cold?
If I did have Monday's wash hung out today it would be cold and soggy and drooping under a wet Spring snow---kind of like my vegetable plants and Spring flowers...I'll hope and pray for the hardiness and survival of my endangered flora and be very grateful for my clothes dryer on a day like today.
I have been thinking about immigration. I know that is currently a tumultuous topic so I will tread carefully. (However, I won't try and walk on egg shells because I don't know that I am very good at it--but I will at least try and be careful) I will also preface my remarks with an admission that I am pretty simple-minded when it comes to matters of a political nature and I do tend to be led more by my feelings than by my thoughts when it comes to topics of controversy.
I am trying to grasp just how to feel and what to think about immigration and to decide which side of the debate I am on. I do know that I have read some newspaper articles that have not set well with me. These articles tell of the unfair treatment of illegal immigrants, how upset the President of Mexico is with the United States for how they are dealing with people from his country illegally crossing our borders, and how angry people in the United States are with Arizona for employing stronger measures to secure their borders and ensure the safety of their citizens. There is something not right with these perspectives. Like I said, they do not set well with me---kind of like a type of food that many people say is good and try to get you eat but it tastes a little off, it's a bit hard to swallow and doesn't digest smoothly...all leading me to wonder just how good it is...
I find that analogies help me to better process information so here goes...
The United States of America is my home. My state of Utah, my city of Riverton, my community, my neighborhood, the street where I live, and my very hearth and home all act simultaneously as important arteries that pump the lifeblood from the heart of America which is freedom and veins that keep the freedom circulating.
Many homes in America, including my own, have locks on their doors and fences around their outlying property. Is this because we are selfish and don't want to share? No. It is to protect our families and to defend what we have worked hard to obtain. It doesn't mean we lack generosity or compassion it just means we are trying to be wise stewards. It has been evidenced time and time again in the past that The United States of America is the country that provides not only opportunity but protection and aid. It is the country that takes care of its own and reaches out to others. But the reason it has been such a strong and prosperous country that is strong enough to be a valuable ally is because it has been a wise and prudent country both in matters of defense and diplomacy.
I would not take kindly to people sneaking in my back door or breaking in through a basement window to help themselves to my family's food or clothing or bank accounts and how would I feel about these people complaining about the quality of what they were taking or what would I think if they claimed to be victims of my anger or unfair treatment of them? But what if these people didn't have all of the resources and opportunities that I do? Then I would be much more willing to help them if they came to the front door. I would be sad, frightened, and greatly surprised if my neighbors accused me of being mean if I didn't continue to let people break into my house and help themselves to my belongings. It would be much more sane and productive if my neighbors worked with me on coming up with a solution to the problem.
I have no problem with America welcoming people from other countries but if those people decide to move in then they need to abide by the house rules. They need to learn the language, obey the laws, and do what they can to contribute to the country's greatness. I expect no less of my children in my home and America should expect no less from it's citizens. This is the difference between adopting a country as your own and kidnapping a country and holding it for ransom. When boundaries are blurred, rules are only weakly enforced and consequences are inappropriate for the choices made or non-existent then confusion contaminates cooperation and chaos rules. When this is the climate in a home then children are spoiled, do not learn self-sufficiency or responsibility for their actions, and are very likely to rebel and destroy the peace. When this is the climate of a country then its citizens become at best apathetic and at worst tyrannical and the country is well on its way to crumbling or falling under the rule of those who only care about their own freedom.
I think the President of Mexico should be concentrating on how to strengthen and improve his country instead of pilfering a right to complain about unfair treatment of his people who are fleeing his country. That seems similar to neglectful parents who sue their neighbor because their unsupervised children get injured after sneaking into the neighbor's yard. Arizona's new law as I understand it could lead to inconvenience or unfair bias for legal immigrants but as my husband pointed out...even meter maids can be biased against whoever...all laws can be abused if we allow them to be---look at the laws about entering our country. We always hope to have sensible people enforcing our laws and should do all we can to make that happen. I have heard that this law would actually in some ways prevent racial profiling. Arizona has had a lot of problems with drug trafficking and kidnappings. I think they are just trying harder to defend their home by exercising reasonable and warranted caution. It is sad that so many of their fellow Americans fail to see this and think that it is somehow offensive to ask people to identify themselves.
I do think there are companies and individuals in the United States who have taken advantage of illegal immigrants. I think many of us have benefited in some way by illegal immigrants being overworked and underpaid. Because of this I think the United States bears a responsibility to find some sensible way to help those illegal immigrants who want to become law-abiding contributing citizens of the United States of America and who have already made positive contributions. I think that many involved in the immigration debate are not thinking clearly. I think many who are in favor of relaxing our border control and complete amnesty are confusing generosity with vulnerability and that is endangering our country. There are some on the other side of the issue who are so angry with illegal immigrants that their anger can turn into consuming hatred and rampant prejudice that threatens brotherly love that can foster an atmosphere of peace and respect. I also think that many people in politics are more concerned with popularity and personal agendas than they are with the principles on which America was founded and what will truly be best for our country. The voice of the people is all too often drowned out by the self-serving mantras shouted by the media. Common sense used to be highly valued by Americans but now it seems there are those who consider it to be overrated. Perhaps we all need to tread more carefully and not only be careful where we step but in what direction our chosen path will lead us. God Bless America---please. What do you think?
Well the view outside my window is much more cheering than it was earlier. The snow has melted, the sun is out, and it looks as if most of our plants will survive. Being hung out to dry can be positive when it comes to wash or wet plants...
I have been thinking about immigration. I know that is currently a tumultuous topic so I will tread carefully. (However, I won't try and walk on egg shells because I don't know that I am very good at it--but I will at least try and be careful) I will also preface my remarks with an admission that I am pretty simple-minded when it comes to matters of a political nature and I do tend to be led more by my feelings than by my thoughts when it comes to topics of controversy.
I am trying to grasp just how to feel and what to think about immigration and to decide which side of the debate I am on. I do know that I have read some newspaper articles that have not set well with me. These articles tell of the unfair treatment of illegal immigrants, how upset the President of Mexico is with the United States for how they are dealing with people from his country illegally crossing our borders, and how angry people in the United States are with Arizona for employing stronger measures to secure their borders and ensure the safety of their citizens. There is something not right with these perspectives. Like I said, they do not set well with me---kind of like a type of food that many people say is good and try to get you eat but it tastes a little off, it's a bit hard to swallow and doesn't digest smoothly...all leading me to wonder just how good it is...
I find that analogies help me to better process information so here goes...
The United States of America is my home. My state of Utah, my city of Riverton, my community, my neighborhood, the street where I live, and my very hearth and home all act simultaneously as important arteries that pump the lifeblood from the heart of America which is freedom and veins that keep the freedom circulating.
Many homes in America, including my own, have locks on their doors and fences around their outlying property. Is this because we are selfish and don't want to share? No. It is to protect our families and to defend what we have worked hard to obtain. It doesn't mean we lack generosity or compassion it just means we are trying to be wise stewards. It has been evidenced time and time again in the past that The United States of America is the country that provides not only opportunity but protection and aid. It is the country that takes care of its own and reaches out to others. But the reason it has been such a strong and prosperous country that is strong enough to be a valuable ally is because it has been a wise and prudent country both in matters of defense and diplomacy.
I would not take kindly to people sneaking in my back door or breaking in through a basement window to help themselves to my family's food or clothing or bank accounts and how would I feel about these people complaining about the quality of what they were taking or what would I think if they claimed to be victims of my anger or unfair treatment of them? But what if these people didn't have all of the resources and opportunities that I do? Then I would be much more willing to help them if they came to the front door. I would be sad, frightened, and greatly surprised if my neighbors accused me of being mean if I didn't continue to let people break into my house and help themselves to my belongings. It would be much more sane and productive if my neighbors worked with me on coming up with a solution to the problem.
I have no problem with America welcoming people from other countries but if those people decide to move in then they need to abide by the house rules. They need to learn the language, obey the laws, and do what they can to contribute to the country's greatness. I expect no less of my children in my home and America should expect no less from it's citizens. This is the difference between adopting a country as your own and kidnapping a country and holding it for ransom. When boundaries are blurred, rules are only weakly enforced and consequences are inappropriate for the choices made or non-existent then confusion contaminates cooperation and chaos rules. When this is the climate in a home then children are spoiled, do not learn self-sufficiency or responsibility for their actions, and are very likely to rebel and destroy the peace. When this is the climate of a country then its citizens become at best apathetic and at worst tyrannical and the country is well on its way to crumbling or falling under the rule of those who only care about their own freedom.
I think the President of Mexico should be concentrating on how to strengthen and improve his country instead of pilfering a right to complain about unfair treatment of his people who are fleeing his country. That seems similar to neglectful parents who sue their neighbor because their unsupervised children get injured after sneaking into the neighbor's yard. Arizona's new law as I understand it could lead to inconvenience or unfair bias for legal immigrants but as my husband pointed out...even meter maids can be biased against whoever...all laws can be abused if we allow them to be---look at the laws about entering our country. We always hope to have sensible people enforcing our laws and should do all we can to make that happen. I have heard that this law would actually in some ways prevent racial profiling. Arizona has had a lot of problems with drug trafficking and kidnappings. I think they are just trying harder to defend their home by exercising reasonable and warranted caution. It is sad that so many of their fellow Americans fail to see this and think that it is somehow offensive to ask people to identify themselves.
I do think there are companies and individuals in the United States who have taken advantage of illegal immigrants. I think many of us have benefited in some way by illegal immigrants being overworked and underpaid. Because of this I think the United States bears a responsibility to find some sensible way to help those illegal immigrants who want to become law-abiding contributing citizens of the United States of America and who have already made positive contributions. I think that many involved in the immigration debate are not thinking clearly. I think many who are in favor of relaxing our border control and complete amnesty are confusing generosity with vulnerability and that is endangering our country. There are some on the other side of the issue who are so angry with illegal immigrants that their anger can turn into consuming hatred and rampant prejudice that threatens brotherly love that can foster an atmosphere of peace and respect. I also think that many people in politics are more concerned with popularity and personal agendas than they are with the principles on which America was founded and what will truly be best for our country. The voice of the people is all too often drowned out by the self-serving mantras shouted by the media. Common sense used to be highly valued by Americans but now it seems there are those who consider it to be overrated. Perhaps we all need to tread more carefully and not only be careful where we step but in what direction our chosen path will lead us. God Bless America---please. What do you think?
Well the view outside my window is much more cheering than it was earlier. The snow has melted, the sun is out, and it looks as if most of our plants will survive. Being hung out to dry can be positive when it comes to wash or wet plants...
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