Here Comes Santa Claus

Posted on December 9, 2012 by wisdomfromafather

Here comes Santa Claus. Here comes Santa Claus …

Now, with my white hair, round face, beard and jolly jelly-belly, I have been called Santa Claus a few times in my life. In fact, yesterday when I was at the post office, a friend yelled out to me, “All you need is the red suit.”

Today I put on the red suit and played the lead role in a Breakfast with Santa at a local restaurant. As I was sitting there waiting for the kids to finish their breakfast and the next wave to come around, I thought about Christmas traditions, mostly past. They’ll be coming in future posts.

For now, we’ll talk about the red suit. I only wore a Santa suit once while my kids were growing up. Somehow, my arm was twisted to arrive for my then four year old son, one year old daughter and our downstairs neighbors and their passel of grandchildren. It was a disaster. My four year old wanted to know why I was wearing his daddy’s glasses and shoes and whether my beard was real as he tugged it {I was clean shaven as the time}. My one year old was scared of me. The neighbors’ grandkids were a) not interested, b) afraid and/or c) grab-by. One of them even peed on me!

So I officially “retired” at age 26 and left the ho ho hoing to others.

My neighbor {remember sunny Sonni?} asked for a favor four years ago. She wanted to visit the local oncology center where both her husband and my wife were treated. She twisted my arm. So, I donned the red suit, she went as an elf and another neighbor went as a grandmotherly Mrs. Claus. We went with little gifts and homemade cookies {not by me} to spread some cheer at a not-so-cheery venue.

The experience was a lot better. Walking into the office brought smiles to most. Some asked for pictures.

But I remember one woman in particular. She had real sad eyes and bruises on her arm where the chemo cocktails were inserted. She was expressionless as we walked into and remained in the treatment area, mostly looking away. She wanted no part of these merry-makers.

Now, I’m not an extroverted person. I don’t generally reach out to people, but something compelled me to go to this woman. I knelt down by her and grabbed her cold hand — the one not tethered to the IV bag — and simply wished her a Merry Christmas. She looked into my eyes and said there wasn’t much to be merry about. I told her I understood and explained just a year ago I sat with my wife in that exact chair. I didn’t know what she was going through but I knew what I went through and she was right, it wasn’t a merry time. But Christmas is a season of hope.

Her demeanor softened as she asked me how my wife was. I told her she had died, but the chemo gave us a chance to squeeze out precious extra days, weeks and months. And I reaffirmed I was in a new season … this Christmas season of hope … which I wanted to share with her.

Her eyes welled and a smile worked its way onto her face. She squeezed my hand and said, simply, “Thank you!” I kissed her hand and said “You’re welcome. Hope and fight.”

I don’t know what happened to the woman. I don’t know if or for how long she fought the fight. It doesn’t matter.

We never went back to the oncology center, but sunny Sonni has since talked me into donning the red suit for the local pre-school center — this will be my third year — and the gig at the restaurant. And when I do transform into Santa, I remember they day a kneeling rotund guy in a red suit was reminded of the reason for the season … hope.

THOUGHT TO REMEMBER: People respond to praise more than they respond to criticism.

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Statistically Speaking

Posted on December 8, 2012 by wisdomfromafather

I periodically check the stats on my blog. I don’t always understand them, but I do check them. Apparently, I hit a couple of milestones.

Thus far, my 80 posts reached the 1,500 view mark this morning and since my last brush with the statistical lady a little over a month ago, there are now 43 followers (up from 26) in 20 countries worldwide stretching from the good old U.S. of A. through Europe, the Middle East, Asia and Australia. Outside the USA, my words have been read in the United Kingdom (19), Canada (15), India (9) and Australia (7). Somehow I have also been read at least once in the Philippians, Netherlands, Viet Nam, Macao, Poland, Egypt, Honduras, Republic of Korea, Hong Kong, Malta and the United Arab Emirates. I know it’s the world wide web, but who would have thunk?

Last time is recorded the stats (Nov. 2), my “best” day was Sept. 3 with 60 views; but on Nov. 3, I hit an all-time high {for me} of 68. My average is still around 19 views per day. Traffic typically slows on weekends.

Other than my home/archive/about me clicks, the most read blog thus far has been “Beer with Jesus” with 54 visits. “Amazing Grace,” a tribute to my wife on the anniversary of her death, was second at 37, and “A Song in My Heart,” just a blog on an experiment of being positive, polled 34. Our Wednesday Writing challenge has drawn 42 visitors, and we’re up to seven regular followers {who are really, really invited to contribute. Hint. Hint.}.

Those are the stats. I don’t have anything to compare them with, so I’m not sure what real value they are. But it reminds me of the old saw, “Statistics are like loose women, they’ll tell you whatever you want to hear.”

I didn’t start this project with an eye toward statistics, but rather as an written history of my life and experiences.

As I stated in my initial blog, my comments are always filtered through the lens of Judeo-Christian values and largely based on 40 years of marriage raising five children. I still have thousands of ideas collected over the years, but sharing those ideas with strangers (who I hope will soon become friends!) is the challenge.

As then, that’s where you come in. I still need feedback. I still need suggestions. I still need constructive criticism. This is a journey we’re taking together.

THOUGHT TO REMEMBER: If you’re alive and breathing, you can still become everything God has created you to be.

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All I Want for Christmas

Posted on December 7, 2012 by wisdomfromafather

As I’ve stated before, I am an Internet radio listener junkie. While working, I’ll find a station at ontheradio.com as background music. In the car, I’ll often listen to iHeartRadio. And rarely do I listen to local broadcasts. At ontheradio.net I’m in Ohio. In the car I’m in Arkansas.

I listen this way to find out what’s going outside my area. The news is always more interesting, even if it’s the same stories with different names. The ads are more entertaining. The play lists are more diverse.

That’s what I’m talking about today.

One thing I noticed was the number of stations playing Christmas music … not just Christmas music but special aps with all Christmas music. That’s okay, but not before Thanksgiving. In the week before turkey day I actually skipped right past those stations dedicating their airwaves to all Christmas music or getting [insert market here] in the holiday spirit. But after Thanksgiving, I would succumb to the seasonal audio fare and listen.

Which brings me to the point. One station in Ohio played nothing but Christmas music for the entire 10 hours I listened. It wasn’t so bad, EXCEPT the station has a two hour play loop. By the end of the night I could tell you what song was coming next! Come on … if you’re going to dedicate time for Christmas music at least have an extended play list! I mean, there must be, what, a couple of thousand Christmas songs out there! Why limit the smorgasbord to 40 or so? And not even Top 40 or so but some nondescript list.

Another experience was in the car. There I’m listening to Fort Smith, AR, music. Not one, but two stations billed themselves as offering the special Sounds of the Season. Not one in a market but two? I know it’s the second largest city in Arkansas, but the population is just 86,209. I realize it is the principal city of the Fort Smith, Arkansas-Oklahoma Metropolitan Statistical Area, but even that reach is a region of 298,592. Do they really need a choice of Christmas stations?

If I had my druthers, I would start Christmas music the day after Thanksgiving, maybe one out of every five songs … then about a week later migrate to one in four, then one in three, then every other song with all Christmas starting around Christmas Eve.

As much as I enjoy Christmas music, it’s little wonder by the time Christmas gets here, we’re all Christmased out. Maybe Karen was right. July is the best time to listen to the Yule tunes.

THOUGHT TO REMEMBER: Darkness never likes the light, but don’t worry about it. Light will always overtake the darkness. Just keep shining. Keep smiling. Hold on to your happiness and your joy.

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Ouch … Oowe … Ow

Posted on December 6, 2012 by wisdomfromafather

Ouch!

You’ll have to forgive me … ouch … I started at the gym today … oowe … and even though it has been only a couple of hours, my muscles are sore … even the ones I didn’t know I had … ow.

exerciseNow, exercising is pretty much an expletive in my vocabulary. The extent for me is generally using the handle on the recliner to get up or relax … walking consists of getting up from my chair — exercising — and going into the kitchen for a snack … and cardio-vascular work-outs are pump fisting during a close football game.

It’s always been that way. When it took me so long to get halfway up the rope as a freshman, Brother Bill sort of gave me a pass the rest of the way. Besides, I was part of the “team” and we sort of had special privileges. {Okay, while my teammates ran around, posted, picked, rebounded, dribbled and battled the boards, I was the team manager and scorekeeper … figured it out early, brains trump brawn.}

In my defense, I have had spurts of exercising ambition … but I really have to be motivated — and poked and prodded. And the condition doesn’t usually last too long.

Karen and I used to walk. Well, we went to the grocery store … that has to count for something. Actually, Karen would walk up each aisle dutifully tossing items into the cart. She usually chose that time to talk to me. I can’t tell you the times she was talking to thin air as I stopped to sample the cheese or newest juice flavor or cookies or snacks. But, hey, I always caught up to her, although I do remember a time in Wegman’s when I couldn’t find her and ended up walking — yes, walking — back and forth trying to locate my missing wife.

A good friend, Sonni, has been the latest to prod me. She said she wanted to start exercising and asked me to get some information about a new place in town. I said “Sure” {duh} and next thing I knew we were signed up. Again, in my defense, I had intentions of joining a gym. I even had an application for the health center at the local college … for about a year and a half.

Now, I have to tell you about Sonni. She is the exact opposite of me. She leads an active life, is always on the go, takes care of herself and eats things like salad, vegetables and skinless chicken. I’m a little more sedentary, am quite content relaxing in my armchair, don’t take care of myself and would prefer sausage and peppers, bratwurst and just about anything deep fried. I did, however, find a new recipe involving green beans — wrapped in bacon — that I can’t wait to try.

And she has tried to kill me a few times.

I had been walking — mostly along the lake or on the trails — so I thought it would be fun to walk the trail at Taughannock Falls State Park. Taughannock Falls State Park’s namesake waterfall is one of the outstanding natural attractions of the Northeast. Taughannock Falls plunges 215 feet past rocky cliffs that tower nearly 400 feet above the gorge. Gorge and rim trails offer spectacular views from above the falls and from below at the end of the gorge trail.

Sounds good, right? The south rim is just 1 1/8 miles long … downhill. It was a piece of cake. But we had to take the north rim back, 1 ½ miles … uphill … with steep stairs. I knew I was in trouble when we took the wrong fork — only ¾ mile along the gorge bed to the base of the falls and had to double back to take that north rim. Sonni — who has walked the trails numerous times — kept asking me if I was okay as we trudged back up the mountain with numerous rest stops along the way. The only thing that kept me going was I knew the car was at the end and I could book it to Kinney’s for a gallon of water! When my heart rate returned to somewhat normal, my dear Sonni said she was surprised I suggested the walk at the Gorge. But did she tell me before we started? Nooooo!

Then there was last Christmas. We decided to drive into New York City to see the decorations. We parked at 38th Street and walked up Fifth Avenue to Central Park, taking a couple of detours along the way for special sights like Bryant Park, Rockefeller Center, Trump Towers and Tiffany’s {all floors} and back along Broadway. It was a great trip, although I had the wrong socks for my boots and developed a blister on big toe. Actually, I ripped the skin right off my big toe. I needed to walk with a cane for a couple days thereafter.

And I said “Sure” to a gym membership?

Seriously, I’m looking forward to trimming a few pounds and expanding my lung capacity. But I’m sure Karen, Sonni and my physician are somehow colluding to make sure it happens.

THOUGHT TO REMEMBER: God wants to turn your test into a testimony.

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Wednesday Writing VIII

Posted on December 5, 2012 by wisdomfromafather

Well, it’s Wednesday. Time to revisit our collaborative community story.

I know there are a number of professional and amateur writers following or at least visiting this blog, so now’s you chance to contribute … and we can use your help!

We started you off by introducing Samantha on her way home. When we last left her, she had just pulled into the driveway … the same one she had pulled out of so many years ago. She grabbed her old key and opened the front door. The complete storyline thus far is on my blog, wisdomfromafather.wordpress.com. Visit Wednesday Writing III. Here’s where we left off.

Chapter 2
I thought I had a normal childhood. Dad was the light of my life, my biggest fan and supporter. And I was his little girl.
Mom was a different relationship. Even as a young girl there was a tension between us. I always sought her approval, but Mom was critical. I could get all A’s and B’s and Mom would focus on my lone C. I could get all dressed up and she would tell me my dress was wrinkled. She didn’t like my friends or my music and always dismissed my opinions. To top it off, whatever happened, the whole town knew. Mom liked to “share” at the beauty parlor, the grocery store, at church — everywhere! — although her version of events didn’t always mirror reality.
But, Mom was a great cook. She could make anything taste good.
She wasn’t an accomplished chef, but learned her kitchen skills from her Mom, who had learned it from her Mom. Recipes were guidelines and Mom always knew when to add a “pinch” of this or cut back on that.
And she included me in the kitchen, firmly teaching me the basics from early on and sharing her skills as I grew up.
I remember one time when I was around five. I had always followed Mom around the kitchen and had already learned about her critical nature. This day, however, she handed me an apron and had me help mix in the chocolate chips into the cookie dough. At five years old, that was a monumental task and a good part of the batter ended up on my once-clean apron. I started to cry, but Mom scooped me up in her arms and said, “Sam, that’s okay. That’s why we wear aprons when we cook.”
When it came to kitchen skills, Mom was open and forgiving.
I sailed through elementary and high school. In fact, I graduated in the top five of my class at Our Lady Queen of Peace High School. I always thought it was quite an accomplishment, but Mom always added, “Of course, there were only 66 graduates.”
I was well liked in high school, but never did a lot of dating. It’s hard to “find” someone at an all-girl school. The few times I did go out, Mom always seemed to embarrass me with my date and I never went out with the same boy twice.
My best friends from grade school, Mary Bernadette — who we called “Bernie” — Betty, Lynn and Pat, loved to come over, especially when Mom went on a cooking spree. Bernie, Betty and Lynn went to Our Lady Queen of Peace, but Pat was the “rebel” and went to public school. Mom always picked on her, too.
I learned my way around the kitchen during those pre-teen and teen years and Mom was always there to coach me through a lunch or dinner, although my dishes never quite measured up to her standards.
All I knew was I had to get out of here. Because of my grades, I could go just about anywhere, and was accepted at a number of major colleges. I chose the College of Mount Saint Vincent and its nursing program, although the sight of blood makes me sick. It was a case of trying to please everyone else but myself.
Dad, over Mom’s objections, brought me a red Mustang convertible for graduation and for my daily commute to The Bronx. It was my independence. Once I had those keys in my hands, I was never home. It was off with my girls, often ending up at the hot dog joint just to flirt with the guys…

There you go, readers. We still have to develop Samantha’s story. (Although we haven’t stated it yet, we’ll find out Samantha is 55 and her two children have finished college and are out on their own. She is also an occupational therapist.) What about her schooling? How did she do in school? What’s next with her relationships, story?

All you have to do is put down your thoughts and get them to me. You can post your ideas as comments on the blog – but remember everyone will see them, so the “surprise” factor might get lost – or you can e-mail me directly at revblt@rochester.rr.com. Each Wednesday I will continue the story on the blog, along with that week’s attribution and periodically update Reveille/Between the Lakes readers. I hope we can have some fun with this.

THOUGHT TO REMEMBER: The Scripture says rain falls on the just and the unjust. When you find yourself facing a crisis, it’s easy to give up your happiness, panic and fall apart. But you have to realize crisis is not a surprise to God. It may be unexpected to us, but God knows the end from the beginning. God has solutions to problems we haven’t even had. And God would not have allowed the difficulty unless He had a divine purpose for it.

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Just the Two of Us

Posted on December 5, 2012 by wisdomfromafather

One of my favorite modern evangelists is Ron Hutchcraft. His down-home style is a must read for me every morning. He has a way of weaving a message into everyday life.

This morning’s message was particularly meaningful, so much so I want to share it with you. It was about being extraordinary ordinary.

So, without further ado, heeeerrrreees Ron …

Five thousand miles in one month! That’s not too bad if you’re in an airplane, but that’s how far I drove one summer and still often do. (Although I should say my wife does a lot of the driving these days.) But back then I just about ran the wheels off of our van driving from one conference, or speaking assignment, or college trip to another. Let’s see, if I averaged 50 mph, that means I drove for 100 hours. Oh, man!

Well, it was a great time, it really was. You know why? My wife was with me. We finally got to be together for extended blocks of time with no phone, no errands to do, no people to take us away. We didn’t talk all the time, although we had a lot to catch up on. We probably could have been catching up for about 100 hours. Right?

Sometimes we just played music, or occasionally we would just spontaneously pray about something together. Or a lot of times we just enjoyed the silence or some of the beautiful scenery. And then every once in a while you’d hear the silence punctuated with an occasional comment or just an “I love you.” I think my wife spoke for both of us when she described what was so nice about all those 5,000 miles. She said, “It was just so great being in your company; just the two of us.” {I think that was always my favorite part of road trips, too!!}

I’m Ron Hutchcraft and I want to have A Word With You today about “Just the Two of Us.”

You know, relationships need time together and especially times when there’s like no agenda. It really enriched me to have that kind of time with my wife during all that driving. There’s another relationship that might be a need, maybe desperate need of some “just being” time.

Our word for today from the Word of God comes from Psalm 42, out of the heart of David, verses 1 and 2. As the deer pants for streams of water, so my soul pants for you, O God. My soul thirsts for God; for the living God. And then he asks this powerful question, When can I go and meet with God?

That’s the cry of a believer for the greatest emotional need he has — to be intimate with his Lord. When is the last time you just sat down with Jesus and enjoyed His company? Or do you only see Him when you have a list for Him?

Jeremy was over at our house with his parents, and he’d been downstairs playing. Suddenly he came into the living room and kind of sat down in his Dad’s lap, and his Dad liked that. His Dad kind of wrapped his arms around him, started to cuddle him, and Jeremy didn’t settle down; he just kept wiggling. He looked up at his Dad and he said, “Daddy, you know I’m not sitting here just because I want to be with you.” Great! Yeah, he needed something.

Wow! How often is that me with my Heavenly Father, or you maybe? In fact we say, “Well, I’m not here just because I want to be with You; I’ve got my list. I need something.” But you’re growing up as a child of God when you want to be with God just to be with God. You say, “Ron, I don’t really feel that way yet.” Well, that’s okay. Tell Him that. Ask Him for the desire for His company; this passion that David had just to be with Him. “When can I go and meet with God?”

We have the indescribable privilege to cuddle in the lap of the King of the Universe; to call Him “Daddy”; to let Him comfort our battered emotions; to speak new ideas and insights into our quiet heart. He can’t do that while you’re talking to Him. To be real, real close, you can’t just run in and run through your “pleases” and “thank yous” and then run out. You can do all that, but then stay a little longer.

I think you and Jesus will feel the same way about it. It’s like my wife said, “It was so great just being in your company, Lord, just the two of us.”

Visit Ron’s website for more spiritual aids, http://www.hutchcraft.com/

THOUGHT TO REMEMBER: You have to remember, you are in a controlled environment. It may seem your circumstances are out of control, but the creator of the universe is in complete control. He has you in the palm of His hand. Nothing can happen to you without His permission.

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That All May Be One

Posted on December 2, 2012 by wisdomfromafather

The light turned yellow, just in front of him. He did the right thing, stopping at the crosswalk, even though he could have beaten the red light by accelerating through the intersection.

The tailgating woman was furious and honked her horn, screaming in frustration, as she missed her chance to get through the intersection, dropping her cell phone and makeup.

As she was still in mid-rant, she heard a tap on her window and looked up into the face of a very serious police officer. The officer ordered her to exit her car with her hands up..
He took her to the police station where she was searched, fingerprinted, photographed, and placed in a holding cell.

After a couple of hours, a policeman approached the cell and opened the door. She was escorted back to the booking desk where the arresting officer was waiting with her personal effects. He said, “I’m very sorry for this mistake. You see, I pulled up behind your car while you were blowing your horn, flipping off the guy in front of you and cussing a blue streak at him. I noticed the ‘What Would Jesus Do’ bumper sticker, the ‘Choose Life’ license plate holder, the ‘Follow Me to Sunday-School’ bumper sticker, and the chrome-plated Christian fish emblem on the trunk, so naturally I assumed you had stolen the car.”

Yeah, you probably heard that joke about, what, a thousand times. But it’s worth repeating because, well, we — myself included — are oftentimes very poor witnesses for Christ.

I thought about the not-so-funny joke as I pondered the message from this morning at a local church I was visiting. The message wasn’t about witnessing … but waiting in anticipation and in joy of the birth of the Christ. But my warped mind drifted to the mechanics of emulating this Savior we profess.

My first thought was how Old Testament Scripture, while directed at Israel and its people, pointed toward a Messiah. We recognize Him as Jesus Christ and for the past 2,000 plus years have espoused His new covenant, readily acceptable for all, not just Israel. But over those 2,000 plus years we have “latched on” to catch phrases or denominational biases that are the antithesis of Christ’s teaching.

I personally believe Christ came to save us all. But we were also created as individuals. So, how do we all become one in Christ … you know, many parts, one body [see I Corinthians 12]?

Over the millennia, we’ve become many parts in many bodies (denominations) with countless translations and interpretations. It’s sad those divisions often keep us apart. But what is even more sad is those divisions dampen our witness.

I often wonder what Jesus would do in today’s world. Initially I thought He would reach out across denominational lines and or the unchurched. But the more I thought about it, my thinking changed. It’s not what would Jesus do in today’s world. It’s what am I doing in Jesus Name in today’s world. And when I look in the mirror I must admit, not nearly enough.

Pastor Diane challenged us to reflect during Advent on what gift we would bring to Jesus. I think I will try harder to be a reflection of the light of God’s love to all. What about you?

THOUGHT TO REMEMBER: God is still on the throne. He has brought you this far.

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It’s Beginning To Look A Lot Like Christmas

Posted on November 30, 2012 by wisdomfromafather

I came home from a meeting the other night and walked into the living room. Instead of my fake ficus tree shining next to the mantle, a Christmas tree glittered with a red, green, yellow and blue tinge. Ornaments were carefully placed on the limbs and garland silhouetted the fireplace and doors. Stockings were hung and Christmas-y bears and snowmen adorned the room.

Outside, the town graciously put up its decorations on the poles. This year I was given a snowflake. In past years I’ve had an angel or candy cane.

The temperature dipped below freezing all day and a light white spritz was falling. Christmas music is starting to overtake the airwaves.

Ah, it’s beginning to look and feel like Christmas!

The tree was a pleasant surprise. It looked good. As I sat in my chair I couldn’t help but remember the evolution of that tree. You already heard the story of  the tree in the convertible, but Karen and I had a long relationship with Christmas trees over the years.

When we were first married, we always had a freshly cut tree … or at least as fresh as could be. Our trees were always of modest size and, after I put it up, she would spend hours getting it “just right.” It wasn’t unusual for her to get up from the couch and re-arrange garland or move an ornament.

That all ended the Christmas of 1976.  Karen and I would always go together to pick out the tree and, of course, when the kids started coming along, they were in tow. But in 1976, just my oldest son and I went on the Christmas tree quest. And we really found the perfect Scotch pine. It was picture perfect … until we got it home. You, see, the trunk had a decided S curve, undetected by its stance and full branch cover. But when we attempted to put it up in the house, the S curve would cause it to list to the right, to the left, forward or backward.

I fought with that tree for hours. Every time I thought I had it right, the second we started to put on a decoration, down it would come. On that fateful day, the tree spent more time on its side than upright. And wife would come into the living room, give me one of her stares, shake her head and leave.

Finally, after the day turned to night with little progress, Karen returned with a knife, ball of string, some nails and a hammer. A couple of minutes later the tree stood perfectly upward — at least by outward appearances.  At the time our S-capade was a disaster, but as we looked back, we both could laugh at the memory making moment.

That was the end of our real tree experiences. The day after Christmas 1976, we went to K-Mart — Karen drove — and picked out a somewhat real looking artificial tree that served us well in Illinois. And the Christmas season extended from the day after Thanksgiving to at least New Year’s Day.

By Ohio, however, we noticed the missing branches and how puny it looked in the majestic Victorian home we owned. So it was off to a Christmas shop outside Woodville to find a more suitable Christmas centerpiece. And we did {I more or less went for the ride}. It really was perfect … full and tall and more real looking than many real trees. To top it off, Karen chose a Victorian angel with a vibrant red velvet cape.

The tree followed us to Maryland and New York before it was finally retired as our family thinned and spread out. That’s when we came up with a pre-lit six footer with no muss and no fuss … the same one that graces the living room today.

However, there was an interlude. I was in no mood for Christmas the first year after Karen died. The last thing I wanted to do was put up a tree, although I knew I had to. So I decided to buy a living tree. Of course, you can’t leave them in the house too long and since I had decided to leave the day after Christmas to take my grandkids on a Christmas trip to the Radio City Traveling Christmas Spectacular {another story I’ll share} it was a quick in-the-house, decorate, out-of-the house experience. I brought the tree in Christmas Eve Day, went to a Christmas Eve service at church, came home, decorated the tree {with plenty of tears in my eyes}, enjoyed it Christmas Day and started dismantling it Christmas Day night for a return outside the next morning.

Year Two and Three was much the same, but last year I never even brought the tree in. When they went back outside, I planted them around the gazebo.

So, to see a tree in the living room in late November was a throwback to Christmases past. And it was a welcomed treat.

THOUGHT TO REMEMBER: When you feel like the plane is breaking apart and panic overwhelms you, go to your faith. Trust the Creator of the universe is piloting your plane.

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Wednesday Writing VII

Posted on November 28, 2012 by wisdomfromafather

Well, it’s Wednesday. Time to revisit our collaborative community story.

I know there are a number of professional and amateur writers following or at least visiting this blog, so now’s you chance to contribute … and we can use your help!

We started you off by introducing Samantha on her way home. When we last left her, she had just pulled into the driveway … the same one she had pulled out of so many years ago. She grabbed her old key and opened the front door. The complete storyline thus far is on my blog, wisdomfromafather.worpress.com. Visit Wednesday Writing III. Here’s where we left off.

Chapter 2
I thought I had a normal childhood. Dad was the light of my life, my biggest fan and supporter. And I was his little girl.
Mom was a different relationship. Even as a young girl there was a tension between us. I always sought her approval, but Mom was critical. I could get all A’s and B’s and Mom would focus on my lone C. I could get all dressed up and she would tell me my dress was wrinkled. She didn’t like my friends or my music and always dismissed my opinions. To top it off, whatever happened, the whole town knew. Mom liked to “share” at the beauty parlor, the grocery store, at church — everywhere! — although her version of events didn’t always mirror reality.
But, Mom was a great cook. She could make anything taste good.
She wasn’t an accomplished chef, but learned her kitchen skills from her Mom, who had learned it from her Mom. Recipes were guidelines and Mom always knew when to add a “pinch” of this or cut back on that.
And she included me in the kitchen, firmly teaching me the basics from early on and sharing her skills as I grew up.
I remember one time when I was around five. I had always followed Mom around the kitchen and had already learned about her critical nature. This day, however, she handed me an apron and had me help mix in the chocolate chips into the cookie dough. At five years old, that was a monumental task and a good part of the batter ended up on my once-clean apron. I started to cry, but Mom scooped me up in her arms and said, “Sam, that’s okay. That’s why we wear aprons when we cook.”
When it came to kitchen skills, Mom was open and forgiving.
I sailed through elementary and high school. In fact, I graduated in the top five of my class at Our Lady Queen of Peace High School. I always thought it was quite an accomplishment, but Mom always added, “Of course, there were only 66 graduates.”
I was well liked in high school, but never did a lot of dating. It’s hard to “find” someone at an all-girl school. The few times I did go out, Mom always seemed to embarrass me with my date and I never went out with the same boy twice.
My best friends from grade school, Mary Bernadette — who we called “Bernie” — Betty, Lynn and Pat, loved to come over, especially when Mom went on a cooking spree. Bernie, Betty and Lynn went to Our Lady Queen of Peace, but Pat was the “rebel” and went to public school. Mom always picked on her, too.
I learned my way around the kitchen during those pre-teen and teen years and Mom was always there to coach me through a lunch or dinner, although my dishes never quite measured up to her standards.
All I knew was I had to get out of here …

There you go, readers. We still have to develop Samantha’s story. (Although we haven’t stated it yet, we’ll find out Samantha is 55 and her two children have finished college and are out on their own. She is also an occupational therapist.) What about her schooling? Should we add anything else to her high school years? When did she leave “home”? Did she go straight to college? What’s next with her relationships, story?

All you have to do is put down your thoughts and get them to me. You can post your ideas as comments on the blog – but remember everyone will see them, so the “surprise” factor might get lost – or you can e-mail me directly at revblt@rochester.rr.com. Each Wednesday I will continue the story on the blog, along with that week’s attribution and periodically update Reveille/Between the Lakes readers. I hope we can have some fun with this.

THOUGHT TO REMEMBER: If you don’t allow the enemy to discourage you, one of his greatest weapons has been lost.

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Sitting in the Corner

Posted on November 26, 2012 by wisdomfromafather

The other day my live-in daughter-in-law Monica came down the stairs and with a big smile on her face said, “You made your bed!” Sheepishly I responded, “No. She did,” pointing to my visiting daughter-in-law Mandi.

Let’s backtrack a bit. When Scott and Mandi came for the weekend with the boys, they needed a place to sleep and I, of course, volunteered my room … with the caveat Mandi had to make the bed. When I say “make the bed,” I mean from scratch. For the past few months — like maybe six or seven — I’ve been sleeping on the mattress pad with a quilt thrown over me. The sheets were clean. I just never got around to putting them back on.

It’s not that I’m a sluggard or a slob. It’s just the bed-making chore was on the south side of my to do list, right below cleaning, shopping and cooking. After all, dust comes in handy to write notes in … I’m waiting for Charlotte to convert my cobwebs into masterpieces … and those dust bunnies make good company.

But back to the story. Monica continued, “I was just getting comfortable enough to yell at you. What would Karen have said?”

Well, she would have yelled at me — gently, of course. She would have chided me about being a bad influence on my grandkids. And she would have sent me to the symbolic corner.

The point of this post is not my derelict household skills. It’s about making people feel comfortable. Even enough to gently chide me.

THOUGHT TO REMEMBER: Our God is a God of new beginnings.

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