The Clock and the Painting

This painting by Aunt Helen, Painted in 1986 started the creativity discussion.   She had taken an art class and produced this oil on (unknown medium) for my Dad.    Ahh...but there's a story.   I wish I remembered the dates of it all...unfortunately the only firm date is the one on the painting.   As remembered by the various participants, the story goes like this:

My Dad gave Aunt Helen the antique mantle clock.  (Helen is his next to the youngest sister in a sibship of 12.  The two were particularly close probably because he was 15 or so when she was born and looked out for her.)  Back to the clock.   One day, on a visit Dad and I somehow talked about that clock after it was gone.   He discovered that I liked antiques and that I admired that clock.  I didn't give it another thought.    

Unbeknownst to me, he asked Helen for the clock back.   (I know, right???!!)   She said she wasn't done with it yet.   However, she then decided to paint a picture especially for him.   He always liked Courier and Ives scenes with snow, horses and sleighs, so she made one for him.  She gave him the picture in lieu of the clock.

Years later, Dad gave me the painting.  (I don't remember when.)  I loved it and used it during Christmas above my mantle and left it up all winter for many years.

Then, a few years later, Helen told me that she knew my Dad wanted me to have the clock, so she gave me the clock.  Therefore, for a number of years, I had both!!  (But had no idea of the drama behind the gift!!)   And Helen didn't know I had the picture until she saw it in a Christmas picture I posted on Facebook one year!!  (I really need to look for a picture of the clock AND the painting.)

Recently, I've been trying to purge the "stuff" I have in my house.   Thinking about not leaving a mess for my kids to clean up should I meet my demise.   I decided I wanted to give the picture to Tracey (Helen's youngest daughter).   Since it was painted by her mom, she would treasure it. 

So when I brought the painting to the family reunion this year, the story came out!    Would that all family secrets were that benign!!!

At the family reunion this year, we decided to post some of our creative endeavors.  Growing up, survival was more important than creativity, especially for those of our parents generation.  Thus, productivity was valued far more than creativity.   However, some of us explored a bit in the arts.    Here's an oil on canvas painting by me, with a poem that I also penned.  For me, it encapsulated what I remember of my Grandpa.

My last Uncle

     My last uncle died, my Dad's last male sibling.   Grandma had seven boys and six girls.  Two of the girls are living still.  But Elton was the last living boy from this sibship of thirteen.  I'm depressed.  Yet I acknowledge that the loss is greater for the sisters, and Uncle Elton's spouse, of course.   Not to mention their four daughters and various grandchildren.  My prayers go out to them.

     Some days I really miss living near family.  I mean, hubby and I have a lovely life -- immediate family, including kids and grands, and a bevy of friends.  The kind of friends who are there when you need them and might well be family measured by the strength of connection.

     Still, in moments like these I find myself longing for the cousins, those companions of childhood who just were. . .not quite siblings, but more than friends, connected by blood and mutual history.

     Perhaps my current funk is also brought on by that spectre of middle age -- the sense of one's own mortality that descends with the passing of relatives and friends so close to one's own age -- or even younger.  This reality is compounded by the fact that I no longer get "carded" when asking for the senior discount.   I could further depress myself by making a list of cousins my age and younger who have gone on.  But I won't -- or maybe I will, but I won't include it here.

    So what's the upside?  Or, why on earth am I writing/posting this?

    For one thing, just writing makes me feel better.  The grief no longer sits in my gut eating on my tranquility.  Rather it resides on a page outside of myself, a testimony to grief. 

    For another, some reading this will relate and realize they are not alone.  The blue funk hits the best of us.  Even Jesus wept. . . though for more profound reasons.

    Nonetheless, scripture describes Jesus as "a man of sorrow, acquainted with grief."  And His words provide comfort:
    

Matthew 5:4  Blessed are those that mourn, for they shall be comforted.

John 14:27   I am leaving you with a gift-peace of mind and heart! And the peace I give is not fragile like the peace the world gives. So don’t be troubled or afraid.

John 14:18  No, I will not abandon you or leave you as orphans in the storm--

I will come to you.

     And with those words, I shall shake off this ennui and get packed for the journey "down home." 

And here they are 6 years later!!

Love this picture of my younger son with his younger daughter.

A New Phase of LIfe

My grandmother would never say the word "pregnant."   Even "expecting" was too explicit for her.  She'd rarely use "in the family way."    In those days, the young couple didn't make a public announcement.  It was spread through the family by way of the kitchen.   I remember my grandmother heralding the news to several women who were helping in the kitchen.  

"Jean is, well, you know. . ."

One of her younger daughters blurted out, "Mom, just say it.   She's pregnant.  She's pregnant."

That's how I'm feeling now.    No!!  Not pregnant!!  Reluctant to make the announcement.   I prefer to call it "A New Phase of Life", "Closing one door," "Making a change."   But, truth is, I've retired from my beloved profession of teaching.  It's not a joyous moment for me.   I'm faced with the fact that perhaps my strength and stamina are declining.  Okay.  My strength and stamina ARE declining.  I rarely even pretend to multitask anymore.  One thing at a time is more than sufficient.  Yet, I'm not ready for the rocking chair.   Nor the senior center.  If I spend too much time contemplating, I drive myself into a mild depressive state.  Today was one of those days.   Blah.  

Isn't it marvelous that God always knows what I need?  So today, he sent several angels of encouragement.  One after another, each reminding me of an era, people that I had helped.  Two of the four overtly thanked me for my help, influence in their lives.  The other two greeted me happily, in such a way that it left me with that warm fuzzy feeling of having made a difference in the lives of people.

Within the space of an hour, a senior citizen, a twenty-something, a thirty-something, and a teenager stopped to greet me.  All from differing eras,  each expressing appreciation for my contribution to their lives.  It was as though it were a "This is Your Life" episode orchestrated by God.  One from teaching, one from my years as an immigration specialist, one a former church member, and the other a random stranger whom we invested in.   Not an accident, I think.   God has a sense of humor.

And, I still can't say it without making an apology or an excuse.   I have retired from teaching.  But I shall continue, possibly in another profession, possibly teaching in a different capacity.   Certainly I shall remain open to the guidance of the Lord.   If he can pull such diverse people together in such a sort time as a reminder to me of his hand in my life, he certainly can guide my next steps.

I am retired. . . or am I?

    
   

VCI the Wicked Thief of a Parent

      Some things in life cannot be explained until one has experienced them.   The birth of a child or a grandchild is like that.   So is the sudden onset of Vascular Cognitive Impairment (VCI) in a parent.  Hearing one's parent beg to be taken home when he is in the place he has lived for more than 30 years, in a house he remodeled and added on the very room in which he is lying, is disconcerting to say the least.   He was able to agree with my brother that the two of them had carried the stones for the wall over a matter of weeks, carrying them up a steep bank from the creek bed and trucking them home.   He said he remembered, even added a small detail.  "Those things were heavy," he said.   Yet, two minutes later he's again asking to go home.

    He woke up one morning convinced that he had owned 160 acres in Florida (a state he has never even visited) and that a woman was trying to cheat him out of them.   He demanded to see the deed and the letter with six signatures all day long.  He was angry with my stepmother when she couldn't produce the deed and letter.   The woman had faked an ID; she'd pasted a Polaroid picture over the one of him and pretended to be him.  (Why a woman...pretending to be him?)   This 160 acres dominated a couple of days.

     The following morning he woke up with a murder scenario firmly fixed in his brain.  There'd been a man sitting in Dad's living room.   Another younger man had entered and shot him.  "Bang Bang.   Just like that.  Point blank.  Shot him."

    All day he alternately worried about the shooter (Would he get a sentence of life imprisonment?  Would they even catch him?) and the victim.   He wanted to go to the funeral of the man, convinced that not very many people would be there. Apparently no one but him knew about the murder.  These long rambling monologues (we would only respond uh-huh, really, or I-don't-know) took hours that morning.   Almost two hours at the beginning of the day he chattered about.  The topic kept coming up later.

   Sometimes we had to laugh.  Pat was giving him Dr. Pepper.  (He's lying in bed; she holds it while he drinks with the straw.)   He turns to me on the other side of the bed and asks if I want some Dr. Pepper.   I say no thank you.   He insists, "Here."   He reaches toward me with his right hand cupped as though it held a can of Dr. Pepper.   I reach out and pretend to take it.  I say, "Thank you."  And then turn to my sister, pretend to hand it to her saying, "You hold it for me."    We held a straight face for a few minutes longer, then exited to the kitchen to laugh and cry at the same time.

    How can you understand if you've never been there?  Laughing at the ludicrosity of pretending to take a Dr. Pepper from my Dad, and of course the mischievousness of handing it to my sister.  Then weeping with intense sadness that he is in this state of unknowingness.   And wondering how long the craziness will last?  How long will his wife be able to handle this nonsense and the intense care he requires?

     Sometimes his knowledge was uncanny, yet he was unable make sense of what he knew.   My brother had fixed the rocking recliner so it wouldn't rock as far forward.  Previously he'd been able to get a rocking motion going until he could pitch forward into the floor.  He believed that he could walk and that only we were stopping him from standing.  If only he could stand, he believed he'd walk.   The therapist tried earlier.  He still cannot walk although both legs have remarkable strength.   He realizes that the chair is not doing what he wants.  So he starts complaining that the chair has too much air in it.  It is an overstuffed chair, and quite soft.   He insisted that someone had inflated the chair.  Actually Don put a couple of two by fours under the front springs so that it will rock, but not rock forward enough to allow him to dive out of it.   He still has a knot on his head from the last dive forward.  That, of course, he cannot remember.  He castigates all of us for keeping him immobile.

     Later that day his sister came to visit.  The first thing he started with her was telling her his Florida property story.   She looked at me questioningly.   I filled her in.  "He has this 160 acres in Florida that a woman is trying to take from him.  That's what he's talking about," I say.  We can't use the word dream or fantasy or hallucination because those will set him off on his paranoid delusions.  That results in him not knowing any of us.  We become the enemy.  

     I start messing with my phone, thinking I'll take a picture of him and his sister.   He continues the conversation with her.   She doesn't miss a beat and just talks about the property.  

   "You know, we could use a house in Florida.  We live in a trailer when we're down there.  Owning that much property would be nice."   (All true)  The next thing we know, he's trying to sell her the property.   My brother gives a shout of laughter.... My sister snaps a picture and we head to the kitchen to laugh/cry.   As we are in the kitchen shaking our heads, her husband joins them and the three of them dicker about the price and the value of the Florida land for the next hour.   

    The next morning, he says, "You know I don't think Helen and Don are serious about buying that land in Florida.  I think they were just talking."

     Some things are just not comprehensible until one has experienced them.  I sincerely hope that you never, ever understand.    

Will you please just say what you mean??

An acquaintance came by this afternoon.   We know his brother and have met him a couple of times.   He knocks on the door and asks for my husband.   This sounds bizarre but I didn't know where he was.   The cars were in their usual spot.  I vaguely remembered hubby telling me that he would be doing something...going somewhere...something.   I did an Uh-huh without really listening  (Did I just admit to that in writing?) and went on with my work...or play since I was on FB!! 

So I called hubby a time or two and looked through the house without finding him.   "Sorry.  I don't think he's here," I tell my visitor. 

I ask for a phone number so that hubby can call him back.  He hesitates.   Then the real reason for the visit.  He is on foot and wanted a ride.

Well why the heck can't you say so!!   That's my point!   By this time, I'm annoyed.  If he had wanted a ride,  I could almost have taken him there by the time we had finished the "where is hubby" charade.

Then hubby appeared.   He was making phone calls and has a habit of walking as he talks.  He'd stepped outside momentarily.   Hubby, of course, took the man home.  It was a matter of 30-40 minutes.

Our visitor comes from a country in which the indirect is the rule....and IT DRIVES ME CRAZY!   If you want something, just tell me!! 

But before I come to this realization, I had a half hour of conscience pangs.  Am I so hard and unfeeling that I'm now unwilling to help people.  Why am I so annoyed.  One cannot schedule a hardship need to fit my schedule.   And on went the self talk.   UNTIL....   I realized, this direct/indirect thing is one of the ways that I have SO much trouble adjusting to South American culture.   The direct, plain-speaking American is rude in that setting.  And one might as well wish for snow in July as to wish for them to speak simply.  Round-about speaking is the rule.  I know that and can deal with it in their country.  But now??  We're in my country!

So...I'm not harsh and unfeeling about helping people.  I'm just impatient and annoyed with someone from a culture that won't be direct with me!   Is it better??  or worse??  I'm not sure.   But at least I feel better about it.

Wonder what God is thinking?
     

Who's Ready for Retirement?

     I've been teaching for so long that it is difficult to think of myself in other terms.   teaching has become my identity.  Yet, I realize that the classroom is not the only place that I inhabit.  A teacher does not define nor comprise all that I am.   Still, that six hour chunk of my day is consuming.  It's consuming in terms of thoughts and ideas in my quiet time; it definitely inhabits most of my "purpose in life" thoughts and energies.   In a sense, it's right that it should; right that I spend so much of my time and energy on planning, purchasing supplies and paraphernalia, fulfilling plans and executing activities, lessons and exercises for the classroom.   Those little lives that are entrusted to my keeping are important.   My actions, words and ideas may change lives.   Now that's a monumental thought!

     However, just lately, I've been able to think of the near future when headed to a classroom everyday will be a thing of the past.   And I've been almost anticipating the relief that perhaps my tasks will not be so numerous, so time-consuming, so exhausting.  Almost.

     The uncertainty of what's to come is also part of my ennui in thinking about the future.   Most of the time I'm excited to be heading into the unknown, into a great new adventure.   And that is how I must think of this -- a great new adventure.   It will be an adventure to find myself sans classroom and perhaps cast into some new profession or project.   If I could just know what that adventure will be, I might be able to dredge up more enthusiasm.

     For now, I'll be satisfied with looking forward to discovering that enthusiasm!!

In Contemplation of Retirement

Here I am sitting in my kitchen contemplating what shall be the course of my life when I am forced (more or less) into retirement in June, to the tune of hubby singing "True Love" while he builds up the fire in the fireplace on this cold February afternoon.   I've found several things I could "do" after retirement, none of them particularly practical.  I could win the HGTV Dream house and move to Kiawah Island, South Carolina and write my memoirs sitting on that lovely porch/deck overlooking the ocean.   I could, for only $49, purchase The Barefoot Writer's Club which will guarantee me a six figure income for life, or at least as long as my fingers can work the keyboard and my brain will shovel out drivel.  I could increase my lottery ticket purchase from 0 to 1 per week and win the next mega-million payout.  Or not.

In all probability, in two year's time I shall be sitting in my kitchen, listening to hubby do some task while singing and still be contemplating what shall be the course of my life now that I am retired.  Or not.

This sounds cheerless.   I am, in fact, not unhappy, just having a moment.  If I have learned anything, it is that the more things change, the more they remain the same.


 

My Momma didn't raise no dummy?

Nope. My Momma didn't raise no dummy? (Double negative for emphasis!!) I had to explain!! We're looking a new phones. Hubs has finally decided he shall leave the dark ages and go with a smart phone. Amazing. So... prior to checking with the mobile carrier that we have had for umpteen years, I checked out the price at other places. So when the young lady made an offer for a price for us, I countered with, "I guess I'll just go to X-vendor and get it for $79 less (per phone!!). "Well we wouldn't want you to do that now, would we." She says brightly. "Let me get you a senior representative on the phone. Perhaps they know of some plan that I don't have access to." So here I sit with my mobile on speaker phone, waiting for this mysterious senior representative to appear. Actually, my son taught me this trick. He's quite smart, that self-proclaimed "techy-nerd" of mine! I take his advice often. That would mean his Momma didn't raise no dummy, either!! That acorn doesn't fall far from the tree!! Ta-Ta. Oh. Glory! He's also giving me one month free service! Hee Hee. Can't wait to get my hands on that new phone with a 1.5GHZ dual core processor...in a phone! Who would have thought it! Certainly not Tom Watson. once IBM chairman, who said in 1958: 'I think there is a world market for about five computers.'

Unfolding Grace

I'm on a FB hiatus. Feels strange. I'm not sure how many time today I thought of some little phrase for a "status." It's no wonder that that daily posting is so addictive. The very idea that there are people out there willing to read some little tidbit posted is rather exhilarating. Or is that just me? I'm training myself to think in larger chunks now. Entire paragraphs. And I wonder why my students have trouble writing larger pieces! I just read 2 Corinthians 4:16-18 in The Message "So we’re not giving up. How could we! Even though on the outside it often looks like things are falling apart on us, on the inside, where God is making new life, not a day goes by without his unfolding grace. These hard times are small potatoes compared to the coming good times, the lavish celebration prepared for us. There’s far more here than meets the eye. The things we see now are here today, gone tomorrow. But the things we can’t see now will last forever." I experience that 'Unfolding Grace' on a daily basis. On hectic chaotic days, in troubled times, at moments in which I really don't know what to say, He's just there, speaking to my soul. Spreading Grace.

TEA GARDEN

My fav accomplishment this summer was creating a Tea Garden out of my blah, empty lot, side yard. I'd tried making the back yard livable...but apart from the small deck, had been unsuccessful at making it livable. It always felt small and confining, the fence too close, not room to move if I put a table there large enough for the family. SO I solved it with ideas from a few friends, a few articles, some elbow grease, and the help of a couple of guys to dig and plant! Of course, it isn't finished. I must create something to divide that fire table from the front part of the empty lot. The girls and I are working on stepping stones. The paths with a few more flowers might be just enough to do the trick. We shall see! I might need a few larger plants -- I've never tried growing roses. Maybe next year will be the right time!! Here's the work in progress:

So Finally, I'm blogging. What for? In order to upload to Pinterest!
Yep. I'm that addicted to social media. Use my precious blog to feed the frenzy!

RANDOM THOUGHTS OF A TEACHER

Sitting in my classroom this afternoon I opened an email that warned: " Two Worst Foods for Weight Gain." I, of course, was munching on hot wings dipped in potatoes and gravy. (That makes the best dip for wings!!) Yum! I stopped mid-mouth. Oops. No, I can keep chowing down. Two worst foods? Potato chips and soda. Whew! I didn't have either.

The next email contained five questions to diagnose ADHD:

• Have great difficulty wrapping up the loose ends on projects?

• Have trouble staying organized?

• Miss appointments or obligations?

• Procrastinate on big projects that require thought?

• Have trouble sitting still?

• Struggle with restless energy?

What? Like all the paper lying around my classroom; the stacks of chairs; the unpacked supplies; my home office that stays buried in piles of paper; my living room curtains that still need to be sewn (since Christmas); my habit of sharpening pencils. Although I generally don't have trouble sitting still. At least not my body sitting still. My mind, on the other hand, is most often a whirlwind. My body is tired enough of late that it isn't physical restless energy, but the mental kind sure. Get me some Rit*alin! Quick!

However, I have accomplished some things!

School starts on Monday, for teachers. Students come on Wednesday. I've been working for two weeks to get my classroom set up, books on shelves, bulletin boards up, desks arranged, curriculum ready for one more year. Today was productive.

• Purchased and cut gutters to serve as book display.

• Bought two new plants: a fern and a Brown-eyed Susan

• Put posters on wall - (bought the tape with which to mount)

• One more section in the writer's notebook (teacher version)

• Bought last of supplies (I've spent at least $700 on supplies and stuff this summer)

• Copies for first three lessons requested

This weekend: Finish the writer's notebook (And just maybe finish the curtains!)

Monday: Tidy up the room

• Organize my desk area

• Finish the PBIS brochure

• Consult the core about the website, begin maintenance

• Start core brochure

Tuesday: Panic because all of the above is not done!!!

Wednesday: Fake it really well when the kids arrive!! Aren't we excited about his year???

Well, folks. That's the first week of school for ya! I'll be sure and remember to leave off the chips and soda. So glad I read that!!!

Bulletin Board -- Done!

Gutters/shelves purchased

Me, doing the Vanna White thing

Boston Fern

Brown-eyed Susans

Sunflowers

A poetry bulletin board

Another view of the shelved books and bulletin board

The entry welcome!

Aha!  Still to do!!  Papers everywhere!

More piles and stack of STUFF!

      Stacks and piles of other stuff!!

TaTa for Now!

An idea

Do not let any unwholesome talk come out of your mouths, but only what is helpful for building others up according to their needs, that it may benefit those who listen. And do not grieve the Holy Spirit of God, with whom you were sealed for the day of redemption. Get rid of all bitterness, rage and anger, brawling and slander, along with every form of malice. Be kind and compassionate to one another, forgiving each other, just as in Christ God forgave you.

Ephesians 5:29-32

I love social media.  It's given me so many opportunities to connect with people I otherwise might not even know.  And the re-connections! To see how my childhood friends have grown and blossomed has been nothing but a blessing.


There's one feature I would like to build in, though- something that Christians could have installed on their accounts as a safeguard: a passion-delay option.  When someone's feeling especially riled up, it would be great for a little screen to pop up with the following questions before they change their status:

Did you pray about this?
Are you being kind? Even to your enemies?
Are you helping the situation?
Are you sure this is true?
If an unbeliever reads this, will it draw them to Christ?
What is your honest motivation?
Is this truly a prayer request, or is this an attempt to find a loophole big enough to slip gossip through?
Are your words causing unity or division?
Would this be better leftunsaid?
Is anyone going to be hurt or stumbled by this?
Who will benefit from this post?
Would this be better said privately?
Are you SURE you don't want to cool down before you post this?

Wouldn't it be nice if this feature existed? Wouldn't it be nice if everyone used it?


It makes me cringe when I see someone I love post remarks on FB or Twitter that are clearly meant to be a barb at someone else I love. Do they realize the rocks they throw hit other people in the crossfire? Are they aware of the pain they're causing? Do they worry that the world is watching us tear each other apart?  I can't know.


Here's what I do know- it's making me much more aware of the words I use in social media.  When I feel compelled to complain about service in a store, I am going to remember that it's someone's livelihood. When I want to insult a person's outfit, I'm going to remember that the wearer is someone's child.  When I feel compelled to take a stab at someone's church leadership, I am going to remember the congregants. If I wanna say something about a celebrity or politician, I'm going to remember that person has a mother, a child, or a spouse who loves them.  Above all,  I'm going to try to be really mindful of the fact that Christ died for all sinners, not just me.


I can't control what other people write, but I can be more careful about what I write.  Will you join me in an effort to make social media a brighter place?


May God bless us all.

 

(Courtesy of His Girl )

THE FIRST SENIOR MOMENT

That's what happened to the dinosaurs!

Don't forget to take the Garbage Out

By PJDHuerta

Euodia and Syntyche, saints without doubt,

Would not take the garbage out!

They'd pray in the altar and sing in the choir,

Teach little children, to sing higher and higher.

They'd give of their tithes every nickel and dime;

They'd go feed the poor every single time.

Reading the Bible was fun to do;

Memorize scripture, they knew quite a few.

They would wash the windows and polish the sash;

They simply would not take out the trash.

Deep in each heart, it piled up every day.

They wouldn't let go, no siree, no way.

Each offense they remembered and harbored them near.

They could quote much gossip they happened to hear.

They knew every sin of every member.

Some dating back past the year 51, November.

Every fault, every error of each saint on the way,

They kept tight in their hearts -- refusing to say

"I forgive.  God forgives.  There is grace for you.

We can pray gaining strength every day, anew."

It piled high in each heart, the injury to self.

The things people said, stored safe on a shelf.

They remembered well every jot and tittle.

"You don't belong. You're too Ugly and Little"

In each brain echoed daily, the faults that were found,

The list of the failings, tossed round and round.

It kept them from living each day to it's fill.

It kept each soul in a permanent chill.

That garbage piled high it blinded the view.

Grumbling set in, depression, too.

Finally, Syzygus, in sheer desperation,

Called them aside, despite aggravation.

"You very well know God doesn't like grudges.

Here in this church, we can't act like judges.

Jesus himself set us an example.

On Love, we don't dare to trample.

Forgive one another; be friends; learn to trust.

Trample your differences into the dust."

And so they did, cheerfully, no bickering.

Not even a sneer or an eyebrow flickering.

They cleared out their hearts with a cheerful smile,

Remembering God's goodness all the while.

The Master came by and offered free

to cast it all out to the sea.

"Please do." they echoed with felicity.

"We need to be free of toxicity."

And so with a smile and a happy shout,

Euodia and Syntyche took the garbage out!