"On a Covered Bridge Picture"

The beauty of the covered bridge caused me to stop the truck, get out, and take a picture of it.  I was heading home after spending the day cleaning a vacation home for a client.  The trip up the McKenzie River that morning was an exceptional feast for the eyes and the soul.  I had not been up that way for several years, and I relished the entire excursion.  I was looking forward to the repeated scenery on my way back.

It had taken around an hour to get to my destination, and I expected it to be the same on the return trip.  I texted my daughters and let them know what time to expect me.  About 20 minutes into the drive traffic ground to a halt.  As sirens sounded in the distance and ambulance and police cars arrived it was evident there was an accident ahead.  The seriousness of it became clear as drivers turned off their engines, leaving their cars, walking ahead to get a better view of what had happened, and reports began to trickle back. There was no doubt that traffic was not going to be moving for a while.

Two men returning from the scene said that a mother with two children had crashed into a bank.  One of the children was in critical condition, and one of the victims was trapped inside the car.  She had been coming from the opposite direction and, for whatever reason, veered across the lane and collided with the rock wall. 

My daughters were informed of the delay via another text, and the waiting began.  After almost an hour, they opened up the highway to one lane of traffic.  It was then I realized this accident had happened right ahead of me, not more than 1/4 mile at most, just around the corner.  There were no more than eight cars between me and the crash.  Driving past the mangled chunk of metal that barely resembled a car, I was sobered.  Lives forever changed in a split second. 

I drove home in that frame of mind, the beauty that is the McKenzie River never registering.  I remembered having stopped to take the picture of the covered bridge.  It took less than a minute.  If I had not stopped, that span of time would probably have put me and my truck in proximity to that careening vehicle.  Do I know that for an absolute fact?  It isn't so much an argument of fact as it is a sense.  I don't make those things up.

Why is one spared and another isn't?  Why am I able to say a covered bridge picture may have been what saved me from a terrible accident and yet there is another family experiencing suffering and pain at this very moment?  I have no easy answer.  My daughter expressed it well:  "I'm thankful too (for you) and feel horrible for the family that is dealing with it."  

We all experience hard times and, without making light, being facetious, or trite, there is absolutely nothing easy about them.  The very use of the word "accident," with its connotation of chance, is a misnomer.  It is my belief that nothing is random, coincidental, or happenstance and that there is point and purpose to all things.  Easy? No.  Does it always make sense, and do we have understanding?  No.  And most often not at all in the beginning, in the initial phases of those experiences.  Part of a greater plan?  Yes.

My heart goes out to a mother, those two children, and the many whose lives have been changed by a drive up the McKenzie River.  Each of us is like a rock thrown in water, the concentric circles reaching out and touching others, whether on a personal level or in anonymity.  Our lives impact others on so many levels, whether we know it  and realize it or not.  I know mine has been by a young woman I don't even know.   

"All things are of Him, by Him, and through Him."

"On Children, Shining Stars, and Kindness"

kindness:  n. the state of being kind; instance of charitable behavior.

The little one had left her star in the classroom, and she hurried back to retrieve it.  Made of blue construction paper with her name on it, she informed the older sister and me that it was her fourth shining star, that she had received more shining stars this year than anyone in her class.  My thought was that this second grader was a teacher's dream of a student, one who followed instructions, sat quietly, and was a good citizen, and she had been rewarded with such a treasure.   Placed alongside her other shining stars on the refrigerator, I told her how proud I was of her--and I was. 

It wasn't until the next day that I learned the story behind this very special shining star.  Social interaction does not come easily for all children.  For some, relating to others is most difficult, and so they withdraw, pulling into themselves.  These are often the ones on the outer fringes of a group, isolated and alone.  The school classroom with all its chaos and activity is troubling and unsettling to and for them.

The teacher had given "free choice" to her students, the equivalency of a 20-minute recess in the classroom.  The little one chose to play with a little guy who struggles, one who doesn't come close to being the social butterfly she is.  But there aren't many, regardless of age, who can match her on that plane.  However, what Mrs. Dickson took note of was that she was the only one who played with him, and the two played together the entire time.  Syd's shining star was a very observant teacher's acknowledgement of that.

Kindness is a quality I don't hear spoken of much these days.  One hears "be nice, be civil, compassionate, supportive, be a team player," but very little about being kind.     

An innate trait, there is a natural follow-through, actions and behavior revealing and manifesting that trait. 

In our society much emphasis is placed on the need for adult role models for our children.  While a valid, important point, there is often a failure to recognize that children possess the same qualities, or lack thereof, as adults.  I would maintain the real role models are our children who live their lives unencumbered by correctness and games, with openness, honesty, and purity.  It would behoove all of us, myself included, to follow the lead of a small child with her shining star and her very kind spirit.  

What would our homes and families, our neighborhoods, schools and workplaces, our society and world be like if just this one virtue was put into practice?

A little bit of kindness goes a long ways.

"Be ye kind one to another."

"On Looking Back"

It is physically impossible to look forward and behind at the same time.  It cannot be done.  You are able to see one direction or the other, but your eyes will not take in both at the same time.  It is no different with one's inner vision, that place within your being, in your mind and  soul.  When you spend time focusing on the past, reliving it with guilt, regret, and "if only," that is where all your thoughts are and where your energy is expended.  That is where you are--in the past.  The result is similar to that of an eddy or a whirlpool.  You get sucked down, go in circles, become stagnant, and are rendered powerless and immobile with no chance or hope of ever getting out and moving forward. 

While letting go of one's past is sometimes easier said than done, hanging on to it literally weighs a person down and becomes a heavy burden to carry with no real payoffs, unless you are trying to qualify for martyrdom.  It is the antithesis of how we were created to live.  

Living in the present, ever moving forward, is important in order to live a viable, productive, complete and satisfying life.  How do I know?  This is the voice of experience.  It was one of the first lessons taught to me by my Creator.   

Valuable principles like these are foundational.  They are the base for other building blocks in a person's life.  In my opinion this one is especially worthwhile.

"One thing I do:  Forgetting what is behind 

and reaching forward to what is ahead." 

Philippians 3:13

"On Being Content"

The youngest daughter is leaving this morning, and she's taking two of the grandgirls with her, the 11-year-old sparkly grandgirl and the almost-8-year-old fearless one.  Our whole family has known about the move for several months but, as often happens, time has flown by all too quickly, and here we are. 

This mother and grandmother has been spoiled, and I unashamedly and unabashedly admit it.  For the past 8 years I have been most fortunate to have my children and my grandchildren no more than 45 minutes away.  That changes today as this part of the family heads for Idaho. 

"I have learned how to be content, whatever circumstance I'm in."  This phrase has been floating through my mind for days now.  I would be lying through my teeth if I said contentment has been my mainstay as the countdown to moving day has taken place.  In fact during the past week the opposite has come to bear. 

As I was on yet another emotional roller coaster yesterday, filled with sadness and that big lump in the back of my throat, I came to my senses.  This move is not separate from the hand of my Heavenly Father and, just because I do not like it, doesn't mean it isn't good.  "Help me," was my request, and He has. 

Once I got my head screwed on straight I was able to think about contentment a bit more clearly.  It simply means having a sense of happiness and being satisfied regardless of the situation.  Contentment goes hand in hand with having peace within rather than all-consuming turmoil.  That can only come from the knowledge that my Creator is One who loves and cares for not only me but my family as well.  

Life is ever-changing.  Sometimes we revel in it; other times we abhor it, often due to a lack of understanding.  Nonetheless, I am of the belief that there is point and purpose in all things.  Part of my family moving to Idaho is in His plan.  Am I content in that?  I can honestly say that I am learning to be.   In fact I am only too aware there are several other areas in my life in which this wisdom needs to be applied as well.  There is always more work needing to be done in this life of mine.





  

"On Treasures"

It was intermission time at the dance recital of the 15-year-old grandgirl.  The sparkly grandgirl, the one who is 11 and calls me "old lady", and I had made our way to the restroom and back and were waiting for the second half to begin.  I sat down, and she  planted herself in my lap.  I wrapped my arms around her waist, and we talked until it was time for her to go back to her seat.  All the while I was absorbing this moment in time together, fully aware it may never happen again.  In addition to the fact that she is moving, she is also growing up right before my eyes. 

The day before, the 9-year-old grandgirl had run up to me and greeted me.  "Gram Gram!"   It had been a while since we had seen one another. This one is a very deep "Old Soul."  She hugs as gently as a light breeze, patting softly on the back with tenderness.  When you get a hug from her you know it carries every bit of love she has to give.  I treasure them every time.

The dictionary's definition of treasure is "a collection of valuable things; accumulated stock of money, jewels, etc."  My choice is "anything that is greatly valued,"  and I would add "that which money cannot buy." 

Anyone who has read any of my writing knows I maintain I am one of the wealthiest women in the world, and I am often giving examples as to why I feel that way.  These moments with my granddaughters fall in the category of a treasure and reinforce my position. 

I am of the belief that the treasures in my life are given to me by my Heavenly Father.  They are often unexpected surprises that brighten my day, moments that fill me.  And yes, they are sometimes tangible as well. 

 I am quite certain you know what I'm talking about.  If you don't, I would challenge you to examine the occurrences in your life with a new set of eyes.  Each of us has our own experiences, ones that are priceless, seemingly coming out of nowhere, planted deep within.  Those experiences are as varied, as unique, as personal, and as individual as we as people are, and often they come in the midst of difficult circumstances and very hard times.

Physical treasures are often locked away in a vault or a safety deposit box.  The kind of treasures I'm talking about are tucked away inside of me, need no key, and are mine and mine alone.   They never leave me; they become a part of me and who I am.  No one can touch them. 

Let me see.  If I had to choose between the two, which would I choose?  Hands down--I would, and I do, choose the treasure money cannot buy, the one given to me by my Creator.  Wealthy?  Once again, I state that "Yes, I am."

"Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of the heavenly lights.  He does not change like shadows that move."

"On the Gift of Water"

From the very first time I saw them as I drove past the business which sold decorative rocks, I lusted after them.  Lust?  After rocks?  Yes.  I looked up the definition of lust, and I am spot-on.  I really wanted a rock like the ones on display.  They were simple columns of basalt of varying heights and form, some of them 6 feet or more tall, with a hole bored through the center.  This meant they could be used as the foundation for a water feature, the fountain.  I was living in an apartment so any prospects of ever having one were pretty far-fetched.  Besides, I was quite certain the cost was far beyond anything I could ever afford.  So I admired them longingly from afar as I drove by.

Doors opened, and I was given the opportunity to have my own home.  Along with it came a gift of money, a housewarming gift.  I happened to be picking up some rock for a client at that same business and  thought I'd check out the prices of the rock columns.  What a pleasant surprise when I realized the size I needed was within my price range!  Decision made--one columnar rock purchased, one pond in the works. 

There are pros and cons to being a single person.  Delegation is not an option for me; however, I have done things I never conceived I'd ever do, and there is a sense of accomplishment that comes with that.  Creating a pond falls in that category. 

I knew I wanted my pond under my kitchen window where it could be heard from inside, so I began digging.  And digging and digging some more.  I dug until I hit a drain pipe so determined that would be its depth.  Pretty sharp thinking, wouldn't you say?  I cannot tell you how many hours I spent shaping that empty hole, laying out the liner and getting the pump in place, bringing in the rock and plantings needed to naturalize it.  I have no doubt a man could have accomplished the same job in 1/10th the time, but......this was my project, my pond. 

My son-in-law man-handled the rock into place for me, but I did the plumbing, although the first time I turned the water on I realized the fittings needed to be glued.  I am one who learns by hands-on, by doing.  I make a lot of mistakes, but I do learn.  That was when I learned how to use that purple goop used for gluing PVC pipe together.  And used correctly it does hold.

Sometimes when I look at my basalt fountain I am reminded of an Old Testament Bible story.  The Children of Israel had left Egypt and were wandering in the desert under the guidance of Moses.  They had no water to drink.  Moses was instructed by God to strike a rock with his staff, and when he did, water gushed forth.  I  think of that as I sit watching the water come up and out of that rock column. 

It seems to me that when one has been given something very specific, be it tangible or intangible, that which was a genuine desire but carried with it an impossibility and improbability of ever having, there is a degree of appreciation and value that does not accompany other things so easily and readily obtained.  In my experience the longing and waiting  enhances the fulfillment, making it  a treasure.  Knowing what one didn't have and yet desired provides a contrast, thus the possession is that much richer.

My pond is a thing of beauty and brings me a great deal of pleasure.  Whether I'm in my backyard or listening through my open kitchen window its sound soothes, brings peace, a sense of stillness and quiet.  Why?  I don't know why water has that effect, but it does.  My pond with its pillared fountain and the sound of water is another of those priceless gifts in my life for which I am so very grateful.  I am indeed a wealthy woman.

"On Not Too......"

Heading out to the backyard this morning to pick some fresh strawberries for my cereal, I left the back door wide open.  I thought about closing it, but decided against it as the outside air temperature was just right.  I was raised to close doors so either the cold or the hot air couldn't come into the house, changing the inside temperatures.  Obviously to no avail, but the effort was there. 

Leaving doors and drawers open is nothing new for me.  It is one of those quirks that makes me "me."  My now-9-year-old grandgirl used to go behind me as a toddler closing them.  We worked well together.

As I was picking the ruby red, succulent, little gems of fruit I found myself thinking that this time of the year, the period at the end of Spring and the beginning of Summer just might be my favorite time of the year.  I have always classified Fall as my favorite, but that may be changing.  This is the time of the year when things are "not too."  It is still not too dry, not too wet;  the temperatures are not too cold, not too hot. 

Unconsciously, I am always searching for that optimum, that point in my life that falls in the category of "not too."  I like it when I'm not too busy, not too bored; when my work schedule is neither too full nor too empty;  when I'm not too full nor too hungry, my social calendar not too packed or too empty.  I love it when my hair is neither too long nor too short; found it ideal when my children were not too old, not too little.

There are some for whom life is at its best when the limits are reached, when they are living on the edge, being pushed for all they are worth.  Still for others, the opposite end of the spectrum is desired, where there is no pressure at all.  "Just right" varies from person to person.  We are such individual creations and, while my life is a treasure regardless of the circumstances, I suspect I will always be trying to find and settle into that point of what is  "not too," but "just right"  for me.  One thing about it though, "just right" never lasts very long, so you have to be sure to catch it while you can.  



 

"On The Thinking Part of Your Mind"

The little one and I were watching as the older sister played her softball game, and we were talking, which is something the little pit bull does a lot of.   But then, so do I, so the conversation flows when we are together.  I reminded her of a ball field in the area where she had played earlier in the season, but she couldn't remember where it was.  

"Think," I said, "just think."   "First I have to find the thinking part of my mind," she responded.  

She began walking her fingers all over her head just like the Yellow Pages advertisement from years gone by, searching for that area.  You know, "Let your fingers do the walking."  She has a non-stop giggle and the ability to talk and giggle at the same time, and so she did while covering her entire head, citing the areas she had found--the food part, the dance part, the school part, the play part--but alas, the thinking part remained elusive. 

One need not look far to see this happens quite often with people--the inability to find and use the thinking part of their mind.  At least Sydnee tried. 

"A Pearl to Think About"

I can believe anything I want, but that does not make it so.  I can believe with all my heart that the moon is made out of blue cheese, but that does not make it the truth.  My beliefs need to be questioned, challenged to find what is truth and what is a lie.