Oh Mother!

Sho. It happened again. Weddings are such happy occasions to cry, and I love them for my friends’ love and friends. The kiss, the family emotions, grand music, stirring messages, fruit of hours of planning, the clothes, bubbles, flowers, and finally the raised glasses sparkling with joy, albeit losing miserably when compared to the radiance of the bride, all take my breath away.

The other thing that takes my breath away is “mingling.” I have indeed been accused by my sister of either being entirely too Southern for our Northwestern customs, or of making friends as copiously as a grinning four-year-old. I will not apologize for loving conversation and human beings. (Thank you very much.) However, there is a line I draw.

Right. OK. Yes, the men. I do know about some men and their eyes and activities at weddings and that’s a firm line drawn when we make eye contact. But then there’s another line. I emphatically must learn to draw a line with some Mothers because it happened again.

To avoid redundancy by duplicating my writing again about the same event, I now included this anecdotal evidence as pasted below: an excerpt from a letter to my friend just a couple months ago.

… Evidence that even well-meaning…mothers can be creepy almost as well as [certain] McDonald's employees. No facts have been altered, except the name of the "precious" woman has been removed.

Weddings are a time when mothers apparently scan the placid, sleepy audiences with fantasy glowing deep within their breast and gleaming fiercely out their eyes. They imagine their proud and noble son at the altar with, yes, THAT girl over there, walking towards him in white. Yes, she is the one. Although still fueled by impossible levels of fantasy, the eyes now glow in a different manner. The planning mode has engaged and the doe-eyed innocent is approached. What appears to be casual conversation between once-strangers ensues. However, if the said doe-eyed innocent is conscious of her surroundings, she quickly becomes warily aware that this random conversant is propelled by something larger than life:  instinct bordering on arachnid. Try as she might to handle the situation cordially, the young maiden must rely on her own instinct bordering on "flight or fight" to escape. All is now well.

Time passes and the young female decides she read far too much into the kindness displayed by a genuinely good woman. Then she answers the telephone in her own safe home one morning.

"Hello, my dear! Its Mrs. __ from the wedding!!"

"Hello, maam. I hope you are doing well... (Sundry pleasantries)"

"I wanted to tell you that I know more about you than you know!"

"Oh? Is that a good thing, maam?" replies the younger female, her throat tightening strangely.

"Oh yes! I Googled you last night! And I've talked to several people about you! Would you like to go out for coffee soon?"

"Google is very handy, isn't it? (:\) I appreciate your offer, maam, however, I have been keeping a pretty tight schedule lately, and I don't believe that would work anytime soon."

"Oh yes! That's what I hear, too! My friends all told me you might say that. Well, actually, Sweetheart, today I just wanted to ask why you don't have a boyfriend?"

"*abrupt coughing sounds* Excuse me, sorry about that. Well, the truth is, maam, I scare men away in general." replies the younger female evasively. Her eyes dilate widely and she wishes a timer would buzz, a pot overflow, a child scream in the background, a workman pound at the door, her sister need stitches, the phone release jarring shock waves...

"Oh yes! I used to do that, too!! Especially when I didn't wear makeup. But you're... (Goes off onto an embarrassing list of descriptors)...and I'm so glad I got your number! I know a young man who would not be afraid of all that. Yes. That's for sure. My son is special."

"IS that so? (O_o) Well, that's...unusual. Please excuse me, maam, but I really need to go."  (This is a pot overflowing all on its own, time to yank it off the burner.)

"Oh yes! Certainly. But I wanted to let you know I have my eyes on you and you’re not getting away. I love you, Sweetie."

"Thank you? *accidental laughter* Have a pleasant afternoon. Goodbye."

"Bye, Love!"

More time passes and the young female gets off the floor, sighs, and realizes she did not read too much into the "kindness" displayed by a genuinely strange woman. In fact, she realizes, she would prefer to take on the mulatto rapper at McD's any day, even with his claims to fame in…

This is where I was going to insert some pithy Scripture passages in this blog post on “weeping and gnashing of teeth” and the like, but it seemed to be out of context while being entirely in context. Not being one to mangle Scripture, I will place this moral in your hands instead.

“I, being in The Way, God led me.”

God uses Mothers: He uses mine in my life every day. But ought we to double-check, Moms and everyone, so it’s not “A person, being in my way, God could not lead me”? Let us all let God direct clearly, without conjuring our will into His plan.

The No-Stress, Flower Chick

Some possible symptoms of stress...I hope they don't sound oddly familiar.

·         I sprinkle coffee grounds and nuts, drizzle chocolate and peanut butter over a little cup of ice cream in the middle of the day…and eat absolutely nothing else, unless of course it is midnight

·         I want to be left alone, very alone, while I work and plan

·         I mentally begin rejecting counter-plan suggestions before they are voiced

·         I notice how everyone else in the world moves in slow motion, while I buzz like a fly, my gajillion eyes seeing everything at once

·         My heart beats faster and my breathing is shallower

·         The computers all freeze and traffic backs up for miles, with police at every empty, open stretch

·         My mother becomes extremely beyond exceptionally valuable and I NEED her trustworthy backup

·         Everything is a “loose end” and “fit to be tied,” too

·         My checklists due tomorrow are longer than a week is long

·         I feel prickles on my skin and neck just remembering all the deadlines simultaneously

·         I can’t slow down until everything that I can do is done

·         My skin looks haggard and I may actually begin to swell…

·         I cannot minimize any mental windows from operating, but only seem to open more as a day goes by

·         When I finally lay down my mind is still spinning, and my back hurts as it unwinds

·         I want to build a little fort full of munchies and toys and lock all little children inside until further notice

·         I begin to wish I was stupid and unreliable

·         My personal space becomes messier as I prioritize myself down the list

·         Other people’s normal complaints I usually receive as a sounding-board, begin to sound…rather lame

·         I no longer feel  capable of maintaining the office of “emotional buffer” to the general public

·         Other people’s stress endangers others, so I feel a need to pick up theirs, too

·         I look calm and collected, and continue to smile and say “Yes! I’ll take care of that for you!”

·         And then I get sick: like go-to-the-hospital sick

·         Don’t judge. I can’t handle that while I’m stressed, either.

So what can be done without making it another thing to do? What is possible in the middle of the impossible? How can I be everything to everyone and keep it cool and collected? Oh great! If this is me now, what’s it going to be like in a few years when I have forty grandkids bouncing off my dining room table, slinging jelly against the ceiling?

Suppose for a second…Suppose I wasn’t me.  What if I were a chicken? (No, I’m not “losing it once and for all.” Stick with me here.) As a chicken, I might be pecking, clucking absentmindedly, scratching in the dust, and scanning the skies for hawks and the grass for bugs. It sounds rather refreshingly simple. Jesus said, “Behold the fowls of the air: for they sow not, neither do they reap, nor do they gather into barns…”

Suppose I was a flower. I wouldn’t need to “toil” or “spin.” They just are so fresh, radiant, and lovely. They take no thought for tomorrow and live their short lives, bobbing against the breeze and soaking in the sun and rain, all their needs provided for by Someone. Their modest duties seem to pale against mankind’s responsibilities. Or do they? Scientifically and elementally, maybe they do not.

“…Yet your Heavenly Father feedeth them. Are ye not better than they?” Scripture says of the birds and flowers. He clothes them. He nourishes them. He orders their fleeting existence, too. Rather than struggle in my stress and concealed mental anxiety, I am to, “Seek ye first the Kingdom of God, and His righteousness; and all these things shall be added unto you.”  Do I choose to believe that truth and its utterly amazing ramifications? Do I choose to let go and let the cracks fill in with what has slipped through, realizing I have chosen to do what was most important? Can I be a "human being" like nature, instead of a "human doing"?

This is where I take a deep breath: the first in days. This is where I say, “Yo. Hey. It’s all good. God’s in charge!” I bob my head like a sunflower and scan the blue skies like a chicken. Thank you, Lord, for responsibility. Help me to balance it like poultry. Yes, come what may, everything is a’ok.

26  Behold the fowls of the air: for they sow not, neither do they reap, nor gather into barns; yet your heavenly Father feedeth them. Are ye not much better than they?

27  Which of you by taking thought can add one cubit unto his stature?

28  And why take ye thought for raiment? Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow; they toil not, neither do they spin:

29  And yet I say unto you, That even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these.

30  Wherefore, if God so clothe the grass of the field, which to day is, and to morrow is cast into the oven, shall he not much more clothe you, O ye of little faith?

31  Therefore take no thought, saying, What shall we eat? or, What shall we drink? or, Wherewithal shall we be clothed?

32  (For after all these things do the Gentiles seek:) for your heavenly Father knoweth that ye have need of all these things.

33  But seek ye first the kingdom of God, and his righteousness; and all these things shall be added unto you.

34  Take therefore no thought for the morrow: for the morrow shall take thought for the things of itself. Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof

(Matthew 6:26-34)

What Am I Doing?

When all is said and done and the hours are added up, I wonder how many days of my life I will have spent…

·         in the epic battle for cell phone reception

·         listening to someone backstab a friend

·         worrying about my future, that isn’t even mine

·         trying to change something or someone that was intended to be the way it is

·         smiling and waving at strangers

·         attempting to tactfully avoid certain males

·         biting my tongue

·         paying bills

·         wishing for something that was never meant to be

·         eating ice cream

·         putting gel in my crazy, curly hair

·         running, weightlifting, and stretching

·         watching movies

·         saying something useless

·         writing poetry

·         using a microphone

·         crying with someone about a heartbreak

·         praying

·         wishing I could make an anorexic girl see real beauty

·         singing

·         thinking the best of others, despite their actions

·          cooking

·         people watching

·         washing dishes that I washed yesterday

·         reading books, articles, Facebook posts, and news

·         driving alone

·         being secretly behind-the-scenes

·         in front of a mirror

·         slowing down for speed bumps, bad drivers…and policemen

·         reading emotional cues

·         turning socks right-side-out

What will I wish I had done?

Fearless and Factual

A sweeping breath of a thought knocks your wind out. Ever have those moments where fear grips you and twists around inside like you’re a stuck blender? It seems like there’s no other way, but for sure “such and such” is going to happen. The more you ponder the reality of what could be, the more you know it will be. They become one and the same and a knot tightens inside, leaving you breathless, anticipating the culmination of fear becoming fact.

As much as we may consciously avoid it, it could be an addictive emotion, as its reality is intense and physically enhancing, momentarily charging your senses and tapping the adrenal gland with its powerful force of thought. Could it be like…lust? The Bible says “Thou shalt not covet thy neighbor’s wife…” we know that. But do we remember how many times it says, “Do not fear”? For the record, I think it is close to 103 times…It just might be important.

What can you do about it? It becomes pretty much automatic—once it is a habit. And that is exactly where to start. You deal with fear just like any habit. When your little boy won’t stop biting his nails there is a process that must ensue. Something including reminders, gloves, hot sauce, shock collars, encouraging words and maybe even enticing rewards for breakthroughs. Set yourself up with accountability and reality.

“Why not fear? Nobody else is planning ahead or foreseeing what is before us!” Wait a second. God is. He is. He even calls Himself “I Am.”  I say He is “Am, Is, Are, Was, Were, Be, Being, Been.” That means He has got everything covered in a far-reaching plan. It is plan that encompasses all of time; including your past, present, and future; and the deaths of every generation, be it by tsunami, violent attack, stupidity, or mere roller coaster.

So in that fleeting moment of shattering terror at the future, someone’s mistake, or in personal troubles, please realize it’s a tool of an Enemy, and God is bigger: like majorly bigger. Stare your fear down, acknowledge it, and rub in Satan’s face a reminder that you are indeed weakly finite and the fact that God is totally clobbering him constantly…and permanently. Fear not.

Dolly's Classy Friend

“Oh Lord, don’t let it randomly shut off now!” Another deadline was hunting me down and my careworn pink laptop made tractor noises. Suddenly the screen lay even with the keyboard—again. Set back upright, the loose pieces on the side scraped my wrist. My cursor jumped around the monitor on its own, and I jumped to control my curser. Dolly, my computer, is just old.

When I made her mine, we had a chat. I punched in my login password as “dedicated” and told her that was what she was: to be used to serve and work, never to undermine or destroy. For years Dolly has worked hard on writings, flyers and brochures, photo editing, research, Bible studies, late night prepping for conferences, formatting tax files and schedules, and occasionally she aired a movie for time with friends. We try to work together to bless other people, no matter what.

My dear grandpa Bill passed away a couple months ago. My mom, sister, and I went a few days early before the memorial service so we could be available to support the family and love and sit around. You know. That’s how it works. However, Dolly doesn’t like to sit around. We decided these empty days would be ideal to format an already written biography of grandpa’s life, into a fully illustrated booklet to print for all his friends and family. After we got home from the printer’s, we both had a killer headache, but thought it would be pretty awesome to make Grandma a custom “thank you” card to mail to all these wonderful people who kept stopping by to encourage us all. After we got home from the printer’s again, Dolly sounded like a backhoe on steroids.

Even though we simply enjoy finding and meeting those needs with our little skills, apparently, we were being watched. And Dolly’s ill condition was being monitored. Someone saw that Dolly’s pulse was beginning to flat-line. I had known for months of her fatal prognosis and been praying that God would provide a new computer. I suppose I could have purchased one, but it didn’t seem right yet, with Dolly still so alive to me. And, God is so real to me. He hears your prayers, too.

As I was preparing to head home from Grandma’s, a hand grabbed my arm. I looked over my shoulder into tearful eyes and listened to a trembling voice call me aside and tell me they were overwhelmed with what we had done “from the goodness of your heart.” (It was really more like they saw what God does with a dedicated laptop from the goodness of His heart.) But, a $500 check slipped into my hand, as my jaw fell slack. “Get yourself a new computer, girl. Then drive that tractor over a cliff.”

Being the non-techie one in my family, my oldest brother Nathanael rescued me in tracking down a killer deal for a classy-looking, new laptop. He made sure she’s as good on the inside as she looks on the outside. She’s pearly white with chrome accents and a stunning brown keyboard.  And, oddly, acts so quiet and calm. “Sceptre” treats me like royalty, lowered from a heavenly throne.

But a huge God in a gigantic heaven heard a tiny prayer and that’s what I’m talking about. Praise the Lord for ‘His goodness and His wonderful works to the children of men.’ He is a rewarder of those that give up just a little and talk to Him about it. “Wait, I say, wait on the Lord” – and “take it to the Lord in prayer.” How can I forget His kindness and to be patient in waiting? Help me remember.

Windows of Productivity

I hope you know facetious when you see it. Otherwise, I am doomed. Enjoy… Oh, and for the record, I didn’t write this at work. I have an alibi and witnesses.

Oh my. It is quite amazing what you see when you glance out your window at work…Perhaps that’s why my old office was in a dark hallway under falling stock items. Perhaps it was thought more work effective? You see, it distracts me when I glance towards the sunny street and see someone putting on a shirt, or a child eating ice cream without me, or someone with a neck so small it makes one “wonder.”  Except, one day I did have the good fortune of seeing the Wells Fargo across the street being robbed. That paid off. (It did pay off for me, too: but I clarify that I had absolutely nothing to do with the hacking and sacking.)

This is an important part of my life. It’s how I determine what people are wearing these days, what vehicles are most commonly driven on the Kitsap Peninsula, and I subconsciously accrue statistics on Old Navy shoppers, Wells Fargo bankers, Trader Joe’s customers, and Costco’s traffic. I am informative at the water cooler, and if ever I’m hired by one of those company’s analysts, I’ll be on the top of the pack. But my other window looks into the lab. At a truthful calendar. It makes me get back to work or do some pencil pushups.

Before you start judging, realize that I have scientific evidence to support glancing out the window during work. http://www.livescience.com/12824-distract-interruptions-boost-performance-concentration.html. So there. That article talks about how it even boosts my performance.

I’m also saving my employer hundreds, maybe thousands, on health insurance costs. What if I were to go insane? Or even more probably, what if I were to damage my eyes with staring at the computer screen all day? I need to look out at far distances occasionally for company benefit. Apparently you can get the same strain at a Cinema in one sitting, but who watches movies? Most of us only work and sleep. I mean, sleep at home, mostly, of course.

You too, could enjoy this pastime! It is beneficial in so many ways, and to so many people. I cannot think of a better thing to do with your eyes while at work. Many times, I have been the victim of self-abuse and not once for hours back-to-back have I glanced up, but instead I gazed into the depths of tedious work. And when I looked up, it was dark outside, and I missed everything, and there was still more work to do.

So, for the profitability of your person, company, city, and our nation at large, I would encourage you to share this article with your employer. Gathered around the grand, cherry conference table with somber Dilbertesque drama, I dare you to rise and read this post to your co-workers and managers with the sonorous voice and bearing of Cicero. Compel them towards the truth! Use stirring questions and language like, “So, why do we even have windows on our building if we are not to use them advantageously? Is it not so, my illustrious co-workers, that they are just like the restrooms? We use what we are given with grateful hearts, cherished managers, be it but meager toilet paper or hand-sanitizer! And an angelic host we are not! But we can raise ourselves to a glorious, loftier height by the mere time spent profitably in a glance into the distance through sparkling glass with the blazing likelihood of sunnier horizons—yes, together.” After they catch their breath from your stirring appeal, they may even clap thunderously. And that will give you about five seconds to look out the window before you have to clean out your desk.

Typos...Or Not?

Warning: I wrote this late at night when my thinking becomes...specialized. Therefore, if your humor is different from mine or your mind is running too slow or too fast for compatibility, you may suffer terrible things if you read this.You have been warned...

If on the other hand, you like puns and mind games, do proceed.

I may sit typing to you with a fuzzy cat calmly upon my lap, but there was once a stressful day in high school long ago, when I sat agonized in Speech Class. I love adrenaline, just not the moments right before I use it. It was the day of Impromptu Speeches and both numbness and tingling flashed through my appendages. Truth be told, these traumatic speeches, formed from a topic pulled from a hat with three minutes of prep, became my all time favorite—eventually. But this day my sweaty palm reached into an ominous, darkened bag and pulled a yellow slip of paper as the Timer clicked “start.” Thankfully, that’s when I had the epiphany that anything can really be about everything and whatever. It probably said “vases” or “purging” or something of that nature, but I capitalized. I made use of far over-activated nerves and gave a speech on “fear when speaking,” complete with a demonstration of what can happen when one wants to give a speech and the symptoms that begin to naturally occur in the inexperienced individual. Fortunately I somehow maintained the presence of mind to tie in my topic thoroughly, and the grade was fine. But that is what I wish to do today.

I have a problem. I keep making making typos accidentally. And they are the type that can be easily mist. However, I shall have to be more subtle than that; because no doubt, you have scene them. I count on the minds of my readers to be excellent and so I should, and shall, treat them so.

Tohoeoroe woaos oonoe toiomoe Io dooouoboloeod uop oon wooorodos Io doiodono’t ionotoeonod too jouosot nooow. But you were more than smart enough to catch that aready, if you read tohoaot loaosot soeonotoeonocoe! The human mind is fantastic. It can suddenly put together tahw si bnieb dias, etipsed eht suorehcaert sddo ti secaf. Amazing, isn’t ti? Making the most of words and our minds simultaneously, is exceedingly educational and I hear it extends the life of your brain to equal that of other parts of your body. In short, this scaled lengthening is… unparalleled nice. Allow yourself to process, so to speak, so your head ages gracefully like a fine wine or cheddar cheese block, unblocked. (Scrap the mental images that conjures, will you please? Stick with the point.)

As a little child, I used to love those stories that started out written like this, “Dhare wus wons uh leetle guhrl naymt Rhed Rhyteeng Hoot. Chee whehnd do bizt ur guhruhandmuzzur.” However, fun they may have been to read aloud to my siblings, it chuhsd suddely beghan do affecd muheye spehleeng. So, Mom wisely banned them until my mind was ready for that sort of duhvehloapmind. I am not sure the timeline was exactly right, because I am the product of what is left. But, I admit, there is really no excuse for poor riding, especially outside the Hood.

Somehow, I admire and am also influenced by Tom Swifties, as much as people may poke fun at the famous pulp fiction style. I find these double or even triple-meanings sprinkled throughout the writings intensely humorous. Perhaps that’s just my weak mind playing tricks on me, if you don’t mind the expression. You may have a caught a few I’ve written in the past on this blog and perhaps you have missed them...And come back for more.

He says things kind of like this.

“I’m losing my hair!” Tom bawled.

“Grab your harpoons, men!” the Captain wailed.

“I have a split personality.” Tom said, being frank.

“Yes, I do need a haircut, desperately.” Tom said to Harry.

“I lost my crutches.” Tom said lamely.

“I’ll take the prisoner downstairs.” said Tom condescendingly.

If you are completely lost now and think I am quite disorganized in my writing, I do apologize. Perhaps you would be so kind as to read it all again, using the other side of your brain in every sentence? But the main thing I wanted to do was to apologize for my sundry typos of late that have actually not been on purpose. Some of them, however, you might want to go back and read again. If, however, everything made mere perfect cents, and you’re rolling your eyes at my so-called wealth of banal fun: be assured, I can get worse with the triple meanings. First, right here in the second that’s left: the live cargo upon the bulwarks still appears to be cattle.  Goodbye. The cat and I are going to bed.