More About Good Ol' High School

"...and He died for all, so that they who live might no longer live for themselves, but for Him who died and rose again on their behalf."   ... 2 Corinthians 5:15

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It's odd.

Yesterday I wrote about At Seventeen and high school, etc., yet I didn't re-mention that I'd attended 3 high schools. Yes, three.

And well, for super-shy me, starting over at each one felt like torture, what with the not knowing anyone (though at the first school, I'd met my youth group kids 2 months earlier, but even so, I spent lots of lunch hours alone in the library.). The not-knowing my way around or the unwritten rules every school has and not having a knack for breaking into years-forged cliques--well, each school presented a sort of nightmare. The first 2 months, especially.

And yet now, all these decades later (and referring back to At Seventeen) I still recall in all 3 schools the many non-pretty/handsome/rich kids who became ultra-popular, respected and loved. Each was friendly toward others, cheerful, with a good, kind sense of humor and open to fun times. 

And though they could have chosen self-absorption and self-pity because of their average looks and homes, they didn't. Nor did they wait to be asked out for a good time--instead-- they created the good times wherever they went. Not in loud, look-at-me ways, but more in the way a foundation holds things together (if that makes sense). 

They gave instead of insisting that others give to them. They drew from wells inside themselves rather than waiting, begging to be watered by everyone else.

And I guess that's partly what bugs me about At Seventeen--it's so darn full of self-pity thinking:


I learned the truth at seventeen
That love was meant for beauty queens...

The valentines I never knew
The Friday night charades of youth
Were spent on one more beautiful...

And those of us with ravaged faces
Lacking in the social graces
Desperately remained at home
Inventing lovers on the phone...



Yes, that's how it was for many, but it was not must-be-truth, but rather, chosen behavior and thinking. And avoidable.


From each of my 3 high schools I recall  'average students' (even ones with 'ravaged faces') who we wanted to hang around because of a warmth radiating from them on the inside, a warmth which grew as they did in learning how to treat the rest of us even more kindly, as well as themselves.

Self-pity paralyzes. It tells us Life cannot become better so we, in turn, don't even try to improve any of it. Self-pity keeps us alone lest we step out and get rejected, it makes certain we remain on our own minds so--without realizing it--we become selfish, not caring, not daring to lift another person up. Self -pity lies but calls those lies, truth. It tells us it's all we have and all we can expect. Forever.

Anyway. As I did say yesterday, God can heal all that. Trust me--I know from personal experience and oh! Being healed by God brings pure freedom and a joy worth having and giving away.




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"Then Jesus told his disciples, “If anyone would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross and follow me."  ... Matthew 16:24





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Certainly the most destructive vice if you like, that a person can have,more than pride, which is supposedly the number one of the cardinal sins - is self pity. Self pity is the worst possible emotion anyone can have. And the most destructive. It is, to slightly paraphrase what Wilde said about hatred, and I think actually hatred's a subset of self pity and not the other way around - ' It destroys everything around it, except itself '. 

..... Stephen Fry

I Hope You're Over High School. And College. And Your 20's. And--

"... Just as Christ was raised from the dead by the glory of the Father, we too may walk in newness of life."   ... Romans 6:4

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So. Last Friday while searching for a certain street with a yard sale, I got a tad lost, but that lostness turned pleasant when the song, At Seventeen wafted over the radio.

I love that song. Ok, mostly just the melody. And Janis Ian's voice. And the placement of the words, "dubious integrity" together. 

The rest of it is rather a bitter mess. 

A bunch of so-called wisdom where the singer says she had everything figured out at 17 (as if that's even possible), like how the pretty teens were, well, plastic, with shallow souls and/or married young, settling, missing out on the good things in later life.

It also rambles on about how the non-pretty kids all stayed home and were lonely and made-up good times inside their heads because that's the best they could do or could expect.

Then rampant  generalizations really start whirling everywhere. All the non-pretty kids had bad times in high school and all the pretty kids only thought they were having good times, but it was like the game, charades. Everybody pretending.

But yeah,oddly, I still love that song, both for the reasons I told you and also for these lines:


To those of us who knew the pain
Of valentines that never came
And those whose names were never called
When choosing sides for basketball
It was long ago and far away
the world was younger than today...

Except I wish she would have stopped the lines right there (she didn't), for it all was long ago and far away! Years and years and another life ago. And we all were younger than today. 

We were all: 

... clueless, just babies, really, and often thoughtless of others' feelings, being far more concerned with our own.

... so afraid of making mistakes, looking foolish, dreading that others would forever remember us for those mistakes.

... trying to discover who our present and future selves were supposed to be.

... and on and on.


Sometimes I meet people who--in their heads--got stuck in high school. They still believe they're the same shy, insecure, pimply nobody that someone called them in a note or between classes. The words still haunt and sadden them, still direct their decisions and the way they feel about themselves.

And if that is you? Today I would remind you that high school is over and it may have been real, but it wasn't realistic, for teenagers are all trying to find their way and will too often step on top of others to do it without knowing, usually, they've done so. Without realizing the deep hurt which words can inflict.

And the best news? God can totally heal us from the Past. And no, not just give us some ability to live with emotional pain, but rather, heal us. Change us. Free us to fly in a whole new life...

... if we'll trade him the pain for His healing. If we let go and be willing to stop polishing till they shine, all the bitterness or the helplessness or hopelessness we were told--long ago and far away--was who we were.

Thank God, He makes all things new.


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"Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation. The old has passed away; behold, the new has come!"   ... 2 Corinthians 5:17

"Whom the Son sets free is free, indeed."   ... John 8:36



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Who we were 20 years ago is not who we are today, but only a shadow, another us who had yet to grow into who we've become.


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Free Kindle book:


Accounting for Love

Everyone Matters. Everyone's Important.

"For God so loved the world..."  ... From John 3:16

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So for lots of years, Tom, Naomi and I held yard sales to sell junk stuff we only mildly care about, but from which we hoped to earn a bit of money. Yet when, in 2011, we had a huge (huge!) moving sale when we left the farm and downsized, that was probably the first sale we'd had in 6 years. 

During those years, we, instead, hauled much (oh so much!) down to the Salvation Army bins. We received no money for those carloads of stuff nor did we even fill-out those little receipts there which you can use for your taxes. 

Now, there's nothing wrong with turning-in those receipts! We just didn't use them. Rather, we discovered that it feels great to freely give, no strings attached, and to let God choose ways to reward us later.

And something else. Many times I'd gaze at my books (especially) and think, "I should give these to friends." But unfortunately, my friends tend not to read the same quirky sorts of things.

Or I'd scheme, "I should sell these through amazon.com or no! Through the Maud Hart Lovelace email group I belong to. Those ladies would 'eat those books right up' for whatever price I placed on them."

But the huge problem? I have absolutely, positively no (no, no, no!) Grace to wrap books, drive them down to the post office, wait in line, hand over my boxes, etc, etc, and send them off from there. The few times I've done that, I recall thinking, "You know? I'd rather be in the dentist chair right now." 

(Think I'm kidding?)

So those books would languish around the house, in unloved piles, turning into clutter and waiting for some far, far-off day when I'd pie-in-the-sky-miraculously feel like mailing them to just the right, deserving people for the perfect amount of money.

Finally, one day I got honest with myself (that's when you start to get free--when you look into the Honest Mirror) and realized never would those books get mailed away. I just don't do mailing books, myself. (Now, I love sending books to friends by way of the gifted-to-mail-books folks at amazon.com. That's something easy and wonderful and altogether different.) 

Just humor me, ok?

And when I admitted my mailing-ineptness, I realized something: If I drive all my no-longer-loved books to Salvation Army--even the ones I bought online at a real cost to me (as opposed to ones for pennies at yard sales)--somebody there will "eat them right up,' maybe as though they'd discovered treasure. My book gifts might make others feel delighted and perhaps even treasured by a caring God who led them there that day.

The most important thing? In a deeper way I knew that all people matter. Not just my friends or relatives or people I'd simply heard about and certainly not only those who can pay me money for my books. No, I should delight in blessing everybody. Known to me or unknown. Deserving-apparent or otherwise.

Everybody is important to God. He sent Jesus to die for us all, for we all mattered equally to Him--and all should matter equally to me, as well.



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And just to clarify--there is absolutely nothing wrong with holding yard sales or selling things online. I've done both. But the trick is in learning to recognize when Grace wants me to sell things or when she directs me to fling them away freely. 

The greatest blessing will take place after I follow her lead.



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"Give, and it will be given to you. A good measure, pressed down, shaken together and running over, will be poured into your lap. For with the measure you use, it will be measured to you."   ... Luke 6:38

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Did you know the average family spent $2,900 in gas for their vehicles last year? Oh my! This is one instance where I'm happy to be below average. Tom and I spent probably $440. Maybe less.

Why that mention? To remind you that--just because something is touted as being The Way It Is--it doesn't mean it must be that way, as though we've no choice. God is amazing at finding ways where there are none and all He asks is that we let Him guide us rather than just following our own bright ideas.

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$1 off any Birds Eye Steamfresh vegetables. I was able to get four bags of frozen vegetables free today--gotta love that!

.75 cents off any Gorton's Grilled Fish. Our store had these half-off this week and with my doubled .75 cent coupon, I got four boxes of grilled fish for just $1.24 each.

Save $1 on any Birds Eye Voila frozen meals.

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Desiring Permanence Here-- A Huge Mistake

"So we don't look at the troubles we can see now; rather, we fix our gaze on things that cannot be seen. For the things we see now will soon be gone, but the things we cannot see will last forever." ... 2 Corinthians 4:18

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Probably most of us recall shopping at Sears as children, later as young marrieds, then as old marrieds (er hem...). We remember some of the items we bought there-- I especially recall purchasing washing machines, nightgowns and vacuum cleaners. Oh and earlier, shopping with my mom for school clothes and the day she let me buy a baby-blue sweat jacket which I longed for with all my heart.

Sears will be closing 100 - 125 stores this year.

And some of us perhaps shopped with our moms on Saturday afternoons at JC Penny and then with our own children after we grew up.

JC Penny is closing 300 - 350 stores.

And oh, the hours I've spent sitting in Barnes and Noble listening to classical music, sipping coffee and reading books in comfortable chairs.

Barnes and Noble will close 190 - 240 stores.

Radio Shack will close 450 - 550 of their shops. KMart will shut 175 - 225 more doors than they have already in past years. Office Depot: 125 - 150 stores will cease to be as well as 150 - 175  Office Max stores.

Christian book stores are on their way out, as well.

Reasons for these closures? They vary, but the ease of ordering items online, the increase of the huge brick-and-mortar stores, the way books are going electronic (or aren't being read as much) and stores not changing with the times--these are some causes for closures, for all those job losses.

Another reason? Nothing in our world lasts forever. No matter how much we may wish that to be otherwise, everything ends. Everything eventually morphs into something else.

Well, except for God, (real) love and the relevancy of the Bible.

But here's what I'm watching lately: many of my Christian friends are blown away by all the impermanence. By endings. Something ceases (as everything will) and they're devastated, angry, then bitter. Fearful, too. And because their 'hope was deferred,' their hearts are now sick with a type of sickness which lasts a very long time.

What I'm choosing instead? I'm choosing to just be grateful I had what I had, for however long it lasted. That I had it at all. To not wish back what is forever gone, but to thank God it was mine, even for a moment, and to be grateful for my memories...

... the nifty suburb house Tom, Naomi and I had, Naomi's 'little girl days' and then how she lived nearby after leaving home. Our farm and the 'gift year' Naomi lived with us there, the friends and cats we've loved and lost, the cool furniture, books and trinkets we gave away. All are gone, but never far from our hearts.

Now? Now I'm making new memories while doing different activities, finding other ways to live a godly life and opportunities to spread Jesus' joy all around. A challenge sometimes but, as Joyce Meyer says, God has anointed us for hard. 

Here in our earthly life, things come and go, nothing remains as we found it. Only in Heaven will we know true permanence--yet why do we foolishly search for it here? 

We're not Home yet! We're still walking, still on the journey, still making our way farther up the road. Dreaming of Home, but living good lives here--in the meantime-- as wise children who will make God proud when He looks upon us one day and exclaims, "You made it! Welcome to your permanent home."


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"Hope deferred makes the heart sick..." ... Proverbs 13:12

"To everything there is a season, a time, a purpose under Heaven... a time to be born, a time to die, a time to tear down and a time to build..."  ...  from Ecclesiastes 3

When God is truly enough, all else is, too. Contentment reigns.

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Oh, this morning I watched a family Christian movie, one actually done really well (!) ...smile... It's called October Baby and I found it in the instant portion of Netflix. If you watch, be sure not to miss the credits at the end--wow, what a testimony! Made me cry.

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My World And Welcome To It

"... nor will people say, 'Here it is,' or 'There it is,' because the kingdom of God is within you."   ... Luke 17:21

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To be read whimsically..... please.

When Tom and I were first married in a forgotten California town on a mountain peak, my guitar-playing, singer husband (with visions of grandeur) told our pastor he felt ready to take on a larger ministerial role in the church.

And for the next 103 Saturday nights, Tom found himself singing to a tiny captive audience at The Old Folks Home. 

Of course, Tom roped me into  asked me to go with him and probably the only Saturday night we missed was the weekend I gave birth to Naomi. But since our church preached mega-faithfulness, we were right back at it the following weekend--and forever after--I had to peel little old ladies off of Naomi before we could leave.

Sometimes, when things got desperate, a couple people would ask me to sing a duet with Tom, but seldom did things ever reach that level of desperation.

Anyway. One dear woman, Elsa, had been a model in the 1920's and out in the hall hung an amazing black and white photo of her standing upon a curved staircase in a long dress with her hair slung over one eye. I would stare at that photo until Tom pulled me away.

After Tom sang songs with his guitar, he'd pause and ask if anyone had something to share, you know, expecting testimonies of God's provision, etc. Well, 85-year-old Elsa usually raised her hand and on bad Saturdays would say (with tears in her voice), "We buried my mother today." The ladies around her would pat her hands and Tom was always hard-pressed to answer that one. 

But on good Saturdays, Elsa, with bright, excited eyes, would tell us, "Today my friends and I drove to San Francisco and rode the street cars and stood on the corners and waved to everybody." That one was easier to handle. We all just rejoiced with her.

Thirty years later, I'm thinking--when I grow up--I want to be just like Elsa on her good days, Elsa in her own fun little world. 

But then, you've probably already noticed that I'm a big believer each of us creates a large part of our own world, real or otherwise. You know, the way I found my supermarket which plays tunes from the 1940's - 1960's and how when I walk past our local middle school from the 1940's, I still see imaginary girls in poodle skirts and boys in crew cuts. Farther down the street there's that Nifty 50's nightclub place you can rent and around each corner there are houses from the 1880's and every decade beyond. I pass by those and 'see' women out on their porches wrapped in aprons, shaking their rugs over the side (walk past my house and you won't even have to use your imagination to see that).

Yep, I'm aiming to be like Elsa and who knows? Since 'the kingdom of God is within me,' perhaps I'm creating a wonderful place to retreat as times grow dire in our present sorry old world. And how wonderful to have a place to go to for renewal of hope and courage and joy... a place where I can meet the lover of my soul who sits upon His throne, but who always steps down from it whenever I call upon Him.


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Ezekiel 36:26..... "A new heart also will I give you, and a new spirit will I put within you:
and I will take away the stony heart out of your flesh, and I will give you a heart
of flesh."

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"She's Better!" "No, He Is!, " Ad Nauseam....

So there I was today, Saturday, my day-off from normal fare, listening to Yesterday Once More by we-all-know-who at YouTube.

And while listening I read the comments and as usual, rolled my eyes at the ones which began, "Karen Carpenter was good, but __________ was better."  Then someone else would say, "No! _________ was better than both of them." And on and on.

Well, like I said, I always roll my eyes at the foolishness of it all because oh! Probably nothing in this world is more subjective than music.


Subjective:

"Existing in the mind; belonging to the thinking subject rather than to the object of thought."


"Placing excessive emphasis on one's own moods, attitudes, opinions, etc.; unduly egocentric."


But oh well, I was a good sport and looked-up one of these singers who was supposed to be better than Karen Carpenter, for hey! I've done that before (checked-out others' recommendations) and discovered some terrific new-to-me talent. So I went here and listened to Judith Durham .

And oh! I did enjoy her voice, her song, so much! Yet I'm tempted to say, "But she's no Karen Carpenter," --but I won't. No, for I don't believe in comparing singers or actors, also--again--because of the subjectivity thing.

I mean, how could I say any actor was the best one ever? 

For one thing, I've not watched all actors. 
And too, some actors are amazing in movies, others are phenomenal on stage--and those styles require different technique. 
There are young actors, old ones, male actors and female ones, each one different, each one best-suited to certain, varied roles. 
An actor may have been amazing in the 1930's, but their style might appear affected and odd today. 
Some actors might be incredible, but they may appear in movies I would never feel comfortable watching--so my bias would affect what I think of them. 
A person may be an incredible comedic actor, but perhaps I would be critical of him because I prefer serious dramas more.

The same goes for music. Oh, how many types of music there are! And each of us are wired differently, appreciating whole different combinations of song types, singers and singing styles. So really--to me--it's the height of cluelessness to say:

"Barbara Streisand is a better singer than Karen Carpenter."  --or--
"Barbara Stanwyck could act much better than Meryl Streep," (or anything similar).

It's all sooo very subjective! 

What I like, you may hate and to get into an argument about our preferences? To be determined to prove our favorite singer/actor is the best? To even try to make those kinds of comparisons?

Well, to me, it's folly. Pure foolish folly.

Not to mention it can be cruel, too, for oh! How many singers and actors, themselves, not to mention their fans, have had their feelings hurt when these silly types of comparisons are flung around. For often, instead of , "My actor is better than yours," it comes out sounding like, "My taste trumps yours, big time. You know nothing about music/acting."

In other words, it's time to stop believing our opinions are Highest Truth. 

And if I were Queen? I'd do away with the flashy award shows. Instead? I'd paste these verses on buses and planes and taxi's:



"Each one should test his own actions. Then he can take pride in himself, without comparing himself to somebody else, for each one should carry his own load."  ...  Galatians 6:4-5

I would just love to see everybody learn to recognize the value and worth in all people, to appreciate all talents--and especially-- the One who handed them all out in the first place, as He willed. Perfectly.




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And before anyone asks this, let me say I see nothing wrong with a person saying, "For me, Joe Blow was the best singer ever." 

To me, that's different than this kind of know-it-all comment:


"BUT, please don't use words like "most beautiful voice on Earth" and "perfection". Those categories are reserved for the likes of Sarah Vaughn, Ella Fitzgerald, Anita O'Day-- Vocal giants from the jazz world. They did things with their voices that Carpenter couldn't dream of."


That's what makes me crazy.


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Our Words ... And Setting Limits

So yesterday our dear realtor friend, Cher, came over to lunch and oh! She said the last time she was here with us, it was a house, but now we had turned it into a home. 

If she liked something, she said so and by the time she left, our house seemed prettier and I felt more creative. Wow.

And well, I couldn't help but compare this visit to the one by our neighbor out on the farm , who, after a half hour, said nothing about our home. And after she left? I kinda felt like a decorating dud.

Over and over again I see the truth in these verses:

"The power of  Life and Death are in the tongue."  ... Proverbs 18:21

"A word fitly spoken is like apples of gold in pitchers of silver."  ... Proverbs 25:11

Weekly I tell myself, "Let the encouragement flow. Don't keep silent out of shyness, fear or anything else. Bless people by the truth. Never hold back, especially when God is saying, "Use your words to bless that person!"

Especially then.






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Cher was remembering my dressing table closet in our first suburb house so I sent her a picture of it for her friend who likes such things, along with a link to photos from that house which I'd practically forgotten I had. If you'd like to visit there again, go here. 




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Allowing Birds Their Freedom

Aww... all you other mama's out there who told me perhaps Naomi will get to Tennessee, decide she doesn't like it, then come running back home, well, thank-you. I realize you were trying to encourage me, to give me hope.

But you know? I cannot allow myself to even think such a thing. Why? Because that would be like hoping Naomi will fail, that things won't work out for her, that she won't be happy anywhere not near her parents.

And well, according to 1 Corinthians 13, I'd be oh-so-in-error to do that, especially when you consider these verses:

"Love endures long and is kind.... Love does not insist on its own way, for it is not self-seeking; it is not fretful ... .Love bears up under anything and everything that comes, is ever ready to believe the best of every person, its hopes are fadeless under all circumstances, and it endures everything [without weakening]." (taken in parts from the Amplified version).

Basically? Love wishes other people the very best in their endeavors. And as I heard one man preach years ago, real love prays that other people will do even better than we, ourselves, have done.

So I must go the way of love with this... and let Naomi fly away while wishing her success.

There's another reason I'll never try talking Naomi out of her decision: after Tom, Naomi and I had lived in New York for 5 years, my parents called one Thanksgiving and the conversation turned disastrous when they confessed they'd often told their friends, "We don't understand what we ever did to make Debra and her family move three-thousand miles away from us. Were we really such dreadful parents?"

Oh. My. Goodness. 

To my parents, our move was all about them. When actually? Tom and I loved living in New York, had been looked at by fellow church members as "missionaries from Nevada" (their term) and had both experienced an amazing spiritual awakening which continues to shape who we are all these 17 years later.

It took me a long time to recover from that Thanksgiving conversation (I'll spare you the further gory details) and I refuse to ever lay something like that upon my own daughter. 

Tom and I were led by God to New York (the most obvious thing I've ever known) and woe unto me if I try talking Naomi out of leaving for Tennessee. Double woe to me if I try holding her here out of my own self-seeking to get what I want.

God did not design Naomi's life to be about Tom and me, but rather, He meant for us to raise Naomi while she was young so that she could grow into an adult woman with a life of her very own.

And may I never, ever discourage her from living in that kind of God-given freedom.






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Again, I realize those of you who said here and in emails "maybe she'll come back" were trying to encourage me. And also again, I so appreciate that! Your hearts were kind and right. I just tried to explain here why I cannot hope for the same thing.




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Fun Stuff:

This week Tom and I discovered from a heater guy (we're buying a new heater and water heater) that Hobbit Cottage may have been a kit house back there in 1931. Oh! I've always wanted to live in one. The heater guy, at one time, lived in a house exactly like ours and his was a kit house, and well, there are a few of them near us so who knows?

Anyway, I discovered this website today which is about the most fun site, ever, for people who enjoy houses and floor plans. It's full of vintage kit house catalogs, complete with floor plans which I've, my whole life, enjoyed perusing. So if you're like minded, just go here and start clicking. Maybe you'll even discover your own home came from a kit(!)



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Music Here, Music There

Well, I forgot to tell you that Naomi is all obsessed and wild about moving to Nashville in March. 

Her newly-married friend from Toronto moved there and loves it to pieces and when Naomi went to visit the happy couple, she found her own personal Promised Land. Naomi is all about music and so is Nashville (as everybody knows) so it should be a good fit. Already her boss says he can easily get her transferred to the branch down there. Easily.

Of course, as her parents, Tom and I are nervous. Naomi has always either lived with us or within a few miles so this will be a huge change, a gigantic test of all the trust we've ever put into God for our daughter. But we wouldn't dream of trying to change her mind. Tom and I used our God-given freedom to live where we wished and we would never take that freedom from Naomi.

And all will be well. That's what I've told myself so that I can proceed with my life these following months. But now? Now I'm not concentrating on Naomi's impending move because Grace isn't here yet--it's too early-- to ease me into the idea. Oh Grace! She's like that "spoonful of sugar that helps the medicine go down." Without her, I'd be sunk. Without her, everything is hard. A big struggle with a lot of dread thrown in.

Tom says maybe he and I can move to Tennessee after Naomi's lived there awhile. Me? I just say, "We'll see." After all, only yesterday we were talking about Idaho and he said, "Idaho. Doesn't it sound great to move to Idaho?"

I said yes, rolled my eyes and said, "All I know is that today we are right where we're supposed to be and that's all I want to think about."

Probably two-hundred times since we moved to New York in 1993 Tom has talked about moving out-of-state and for years I used to let the "up-in-the-air-ness of it all" upset me. But no more. 

After what we went through to find this house, I watched God so clearly slam any doors He didn't want us walking through. So when it comes to moving out of New York? It will only happen when God desires and where He desires, as well, even if Tom does talk about moving another 200 times in between now and our actual departure. We couldn't even get out of here unless God wanted it.

I finally know that now.

That's what happens when you totally give your life over to Him and beg Him to not let you get what you want--if it's not what He wants.

So why get upset over a few hundred mentions of moving away? I'm learning. Slowly, ok, but still, I'm learning.




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Oh! Debra's Upstairs World just got sweeter today. How? I discovered a local AM radio station that plays music solely from the 1940's, 50's and 60's. Wow. It's more fun than ever up here now.

Oh, and for those of you who wish your supermarket played the same kind of music as mine? If you own an Ipod (or other similar device) why not load it with music from the 40's, 50's and 60's and take it with you when you shop? Then you can have experiences similar to mine. 

That brilliant idea came to me (finally) just this morning. heh.


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Accepting, Pausing, Loving

So on Thanksgiving Day in our area, at least three radio stations begin playing Christmas carols 24/7 till around December 27th. I used to complain about that, but now? I love it. I even created a yearly tradition of cooking my Thanksgiving dinner while listening to radio Christmas songs in my kitchen.


What changed? My attitude. 

I used to become flustered because people didn't adhere to my personal time schedule ("they" shouldn't play Christmas songs anywhere until after Thanksgiving!), but then I figured how foolish! Why complain and get all cranky because everyone else doesn't adhere to my ideas?


In fact, I remember cranky people while I grew-up who always complained when other people made different choices than they would have. Sadly, I watched these complaining people repel others away, they became riddled with arthritis and never learned to just enjoy and deeply love people, warts and all. They believed there was only one way to live (their way, which they equated with God's) and became bitter because they could not make the whole world behave.


Well, for some years I headed down that (scary) road, also, but one day I realized, hey! Making my own self behave is one full-time job, indeed. Who has leftover time to boss others around? Besides, God's endless creativity made us all too different and gave us way more freedom than that.


So as I noted here last year, this has become my Verse Of The Month every December when I'm tempted to complain about how others are 'doing Christmas':



"When Peter saw him, he asked, “Lord, what about him?”
Jesus answered, “If I want him to remain alive until I return, what is that to you? You must follow me.”' ... from John 21
 

What does it matter to me that stores play Christmas music in October? I need to mind my own business and just follow Jesus. What if tons of people spend lots of money for Christmas or totally plaster their house and yard with enough Christmas lights to be viewed from outer space? Why complain about that? I must just follow Jesus.

There are myriad more examples, but you get the idea, right?
 
Let's just each do Christmas our way and let the world do it, theirs. And then let's all know peace.

Ah, blessed peace.
 
 
 
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"Make it your ambition to lead a quiet life, to mind your own business and to work with your hands..."   ...  I Thessalonians 4:11


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"I'm not gonna let commercialism ruin my Christmas!"  ... Charlie Brown


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The Sale

Yesterday Tom listed two very retro (and very heavy) stereo components on Craig's List and then he did research and saw that similar components sold for much more. So he changed the price, upped it by 125 additional dollars, which made it still quite low.

But nearly at the same moment, aha! The phone rang. The caller asked about the components and Tom knew immediately, the man had seen the lower price, first.

And alas, he had.

So Tom told him he'd sell the components at the lower price since the man was calling about that price, even though he'd since changed it. The man then told Tom he'd come by at 5:00.

Immediately, someone else called willing to pay the new, higher price. Of course.

Then Tom turned to me and moaned some "woulda, coulda, shoulda" things, like, he should've done the research, first, but he'd gotten the components years before at a yard sale for cheap and had thought hey! He'd be getting a spiffy profit if he sold them for that (original lower) price.

I told him, "Well, yes! You should have looked-up selling prices, first. And you should've told the guy upfront that you'd made a mistake and the price was now _____." But Tom said he couldn't do that. It felt like a moral dilemma to him and he had to do what he felt was right.

I just sighed.

Anyway. The young guy came and by looking at his clothes and car and hearing his story, we could tell he didn't have much money--he'd been trying to build the perfect stereo system for years (highly annoying his wife--with which I could identify, certainly). He also brought with him his adorable, 4-year-old sweet and quiet-as-can-be daughter who melted our hearts. Also, he whipped out an extra ten dollars hoping it would make Tom feel better for letting the components go cheaply (we thought that, kind.)

Well. Tom came in from the garage after the man and his little girl drove away and said he felt absolutely no regret about not getting the extra $125. He felt great about letting the young man go home with such a good deal.

We both felt contented, in fact. There are, after all, more important things in Life than money.

No, really. There are.



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Today I Wished I Was Eighty-Years-Old

Really, I did. Wished I was 80, that is.

Why in the world?? Since you'd never, ever guess, I will tell you.

You know how, when folks reach 80 or 85 and especially 90 or 95, younger people say, "Oh, if he wants to eat salami sandwiches and soda pop every single day (or eat pizza or Frito's or smoke cigars), why, just let him! He's gotten himself to a ripe old age and he deserves to eat whatever he wants."?

Well, I wished I was 80-years-old so that I could eat a hamburger basket every single day of the week.

I love hamburger baskets. Tom and I get take-out from a local 'hole in the wall' place around every 8 or 9 days, or so, and always (always!) I tell Tom, "Order me a hamburger basket." (Though most times, he doesn't even ask me what I want anymore.)

A hamburger basket comes with a simple little hamburger and everything on it (no cheese though. Cheese makes my head explode--not a pleasant sight.) It also comes with French fries, bottled water (well, that's what I choose though I'm always tempted by the soda instead!), two tiny envelopes of salt and three small packages of ketchup. And this delightful meal costs only around $2.50. (Note: No! It went up to $3.25. Alas.)

Tom brings home my hamburger basket and his always-something-different food and we sit in the living room and watch something mindless from Netflix. Lately it's been the old tv series, Hunter, though recently we switched to the niftier Rockford Files.

Brain-sucking tv and a hamburger basket! If I was 80-years-old I could get away with that every day of the week. And I'd be deliriously happy.

Oh, if only I was 80! :)

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Seeing Deeper

Before I start this post, there's something I forgot to tell you about our train trip. Namely, not once--not even one time!--did I have to whip out my driver's licence. And remember, we traveled by train from New York to Nevada and back again(!) And nobody ever searched my suitcase or made me remove my shoes or twirl around with hands upraised or any other nonsense which, well, makes me hate flying. It was as though Amtrak never even heard of terrorism which, alas, made me feel as though we were traveling back in the 1930's, ever so far from 2010.

Loved that.

Anyway, also while on the train, we swished past some backyards which were heaped full of rusty junk. Old cars, appliances, boxes, bicycles, pans, glass, etc. And always I would wrinkle my nose and think, "Good grief. How can they stand to have a yard like that??"

But then we arrived home and discovered the show, American Pickers.

Wow. That show is my current favorite-of-all-time (hopefully I won't lose you because I said that) and the most incredible thing? Now when Tom and I drive past the very occasional wildly-cluttered-with-rusty-stuff yard, both of us point and exclaim, "Ooooh! See that? Can you imagine what treasures those people must have? See their barns? Don't you wish we could look around inside them and buy some stuff and then sell it? Oh, that would be fun."

All because of a tv show, Tom and I now view messy yards in a whole new light. And because of the people who Mike and Frank have introduced us to on American Pickers, we have compassion for those types of collectors and yes, hoarders, as well. The people we've met on American Pickers are some of the sweetest, old-fashioned folks ever.

What a lesson! We've been reminded to look past the What and to see the Why--and the Person--instead. To view the Who, beyond the Do. To keep in mind that the heart is in the deepest part of a person and cannot be totally seen and understood just by seeing his or her outsides. Nor by viewing his or her backyard, either.

What matters is how we see what we see.

What really matters is compassion.

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"The greatest of these is love." ... From 1st Corinthians 13



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And yes, I wrote that first paragraph because of the new airline search rules which go into effect today. Gah. As if I wasn't already feeling violated enough the last time I flew! :(