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Seasons . . .

9/28/2019

According to the calendar, this week marked the first week of fall. Sometimes that is hard to recognize in my Northern California town where the temperatures in late September can often still be in the nineties. But the cooler weather always comes, and I am always ready.

I love living in an area that experiences seasons: fall’s crisp mornings and beautiful foliage; winter’s storms and snowy mountains; spring’s energy and bursting blooms; and summer’s warmth and beautiful evenings.

However each season can have its hardships as well. Early fall rains can ruin crops. Extreme winter weather can be hazardous. Too many spring showers can cause flooding. And as Shakespeare once said, “Sometimes too hot the eye of heaven shines.”
We too are promised seasons in our lives, both pleasant and difficult. Ecclesiastes 3 reminds us of fourteen of the offsetting seasons we can experience, such as “. . . a time to weep, and a time to laugh . . . A time to gain, and a time to lose . . . .” I am sure each of us could add to this list through our own experiences.

Though it is much easier and definitely more enjoyable to go through the pleasant seasons, we are reminded that “To everything there is a season, a time for every purpose under heaven” (emphasis mine). We are promised seasons with a purpose.

May God be with you and bless you in whatever season you are currently in.

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Seize the . . .

9/21/2019

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As you could probably guess, I love to read, and when I find myself completely lost in a world within words, every moment comes alive. Both the grand and the more tame adventures are captivating while the mundane moments are made joyous through detailed descriptions: A summer breeze washes across one character’s face. Another character relishes a sunset. A third meanders along a country path.

It is while I am reading that I vow to make my own adventures happen and appreciate the ordinary more.

BUT . . . once the book is closed and MY world returns, somehow those same mundane and repetitive activities get lost in the living without someone else’s imagination reminding me to savor them. And those exciting adventures return to being dreams rather than realities.

Nike was right on when they developed their motto “Just Do It.” Too many of us procrastinate and convince ourselves that we will put our plans into motion next year. At the same time we forget about the breeze or the sunset because our mind is racing ahead to the next item on our to-do list.

So let’s seize both the big opportunities and the small moments. Let’s make a conscious effort to stop and enjoy what the everyday has to offer and to move forward and put flesh on our dreams. Let’s “Just Do It”!

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If You Don't Ask . . .

9/14/2019

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My parents have travelled the world, and the most important thing I have learned from their experiences is . . . if you don’t ask, you’ll never know. If you don’t talk to people. If you don’t ask people about themselves. If you think that people are just the equivalent of their job or that sliver of identity that you see momentarily, then you will miss out on some very interesting stories.

Cases in point. On our most recent trip to the Midwest, when my father had his fall, we came into contact with a lot of nurses and CNAs (Certified Nursing Assistants). It was very easy to fall into the hospital routine and see them only as my father’s caregivers. But my mother and father didn’t. Each nurse or CNA was a person, and each had a story to tell.

Mom (and even Dad despite his painful circumstances) would ask each person about his or her life: where they lived; how long had they been in their job; did they have a family, and so forth.

Here are a few of the things we learned. Two were traveling nurses and one was headed to California next. (She was immediately invited to visit.) One young nursing assistant had been a national cheerleading champion five out of her seven years of competition. Another’s boyfriend was on the first ever Olympic Skateboarding team for the 2020 Olympics. One nurse was a huge Stephen King fan (which did worry me a bit); one CNA was working her way through law school. The nurse that flew with dad from Missouri to California had spent 24 years in the army as a medic. And the stories continued. Some amazing; others rather ordinary, but all unique.

So on my most recent solo trip, I decided to take a page out of my parents “travel book.” When I hit the bus portion of my Amtrak journey from Fresno to LA (Yes, non Americans, our train service includes buses), I decided to break the ice with my seatmate by asking him if he would like me to put the large brown paper bag on his lap in the overhead compartment. He smiled, said no, and pulled it closer to him, so I sat down and contemplated a different approach. He spoke first and asked me if I was a teacher. I looked a bit startled and asked him if I looked like one. He said yes. I decided I didn’t want to know why, so I asked him what he did instead.

   “I just got out of prison,” he said. Startled moment number two.

   “When?” I asked.

   “Today,” he answered.
Obviously his powers of observation were much better than mine, because while he pegged me for a teacher right away, I completely missed the whole “brown paper bag holding all his worldly possessions” bit.

Despite this rough start, we had a wonderful conversation. He told me about his family waiting for him, his hopes and aspirations, and yes, why he had gone to prison and some of what it had been like.

Everyone has more to them than what meets the eye. Everyone has a unique story to tell, and most are willing to share it, if we just take the time to ask . . . and then listen. Trust me––you will be surprised.

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Paradise Lost . . .

9/7/2019

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I recently took a trip with my parents to Missouri. My father was raised there and some of his family still lives there. Missouri is a beautiful state, especially down in the Ozarks where my relatives live: the rolling hills, the acres of trees and farmland, the cliffs of limestone, and the miles of idyllic Huck Finn rivers that snake their way through the landscape.

However, all earthly paradises have a dark side, and Missouri and much of the Midwest has its: chiggers!

I thought I knew what a chigger was, but obviously I didn’t because though I was warned that there might be chiggers in the big day lily plot I was going out to admire, I really didn’t know what I was looking for. Plus my cousin, whose garden it was, didn’t seem too concerned.

Only my arms were exposed so I diligently looked for something about the size of a mosquito, ready to kill it dead if it appeared. Nothing did, so I left feeling like I had avoided the chiggers and whatever they did to you. I didn’t.

The event (except for my foray to the garden) had been an indoor one, so I didn’t feel the need to shower that night . . . nor the next (which was just a day of travel) . . . but on day three . . . WOW!

I wasn’t sure if I had the measles or had somehow found a flea infested bed, but I was covered in little red bites––and I mean COVERED! Then the itching started . . . and the one thing you are told NOT to do is scratch. So I bought the industrial size anti-itch ointment (that doesn’t really work) and sat on my hands for the next week and waited . . . and waited . . . and waited for the itching to subside and the bites to disappear. The itching did end but even now (over two months later) there are still little visible reminders of those visitors.

Fortunately, chiggers don’t carry disease. They are merely an extreme annoyance but one that could have been avoided.

So what did I learn? First of all, shower daily––regardless. Second, that ignorance and arrogance are a lethal combination. But most importantly . . . don’t trust your cousins.

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Seasons . . .

Seize the . . .

If You Don't Ask . . .

Paradise Lost . . .

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