ARE YOU READY?

Time to get our fingers ready to turn the page to a "new" year.

Thank you, Charles Schulz!

I don't know about you, but there are times I wouldn't mind repeating a year I loved. Of course, that would mean ignoring any and all sad/bad/irritating/frustrating/no-good things that happened that year. And, if we're honest, every year has them. Even the year we think of as "that perfect year" back when . . . .

Since we're not given much opportunity to pick and choose the year we want, we do have a few options. Such as:

• pretend the year didn't change. Just go on as before.
• mark through the year at the top of the calendar pages and insert the number we want.
• burn all calendars.

I admit, those aren't going to solve the problem of possibly having a bad year. (In fact, I can foresee some major train wrecks when we show up for an appointment we don't have, or don't show up for one we do have, or thought we had, or . . . .

So the only options left are:

• take a deep breath and go with the flow (remember to keep your head up so you can breathe)
• stop telling everybody you know how much you hate this new year (if they do, too, you won't be helping them any; and if they don't agree with you, you may have lost a friend)
• best of all: Think of This New Year as an Adventure!

Radical thought. An adventure! Not up for surprises? Not ready for an adventure? Feel bewildered by strangeness? 

Take heart . . . you're not alone! But, if you do accept the challenge to go with the Adventure idea, you'll also have company. After all, if you can't change it--and I've never known anyone who actually did get a new year changed--you might as well hang around and see what's going to happen. Who knows? It might be great!!

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I'm going to close with a quotation I've used before, because (1) I like Hal Borland, and (2) I agree with what he says. Here goes:

Wishing you a wonderful year ahead! 

Blessings,

Thursday's Child

 FOUR GIFTS

[This year Thursday's Child is again visiting you a few days before Christmas Day. I reread this post from a few years ago and realized--it is exactly right for this year of 2022 undertainty.]

In two days, it will be Christmas Eve. Gift-giving is a tradition at this season. We’ve searched for just the right thing for Aunt Susie, ordered what we hope will tickle our grandchild, maybe even made some gifts for special people.

If I could give each of you a gift, I’d wrap up four nice boxes and in each one there would be a word you could treasure the rest of your life.

In the first box I’d put Hope. Without hope in our lives, we can grow afraid of the future. It all looks bleak. Or endless nothing. Or terrifying. But with hope, we can see something greater than the fears we live with.

In the second box I’d put Peace. My favorite definition is on a mug I use to drink tea each day. It reads: “Peace. It does not mean to be in a place where there is no noise, trouble or hard work. It means to be in the midst of those things and still be calm in your heart.”

In the third box I’d put Joy. A few days ago I read in a small devotional book this thought: “Joy feels deeper than momentary pride, satisfaction, or relief. . . . A sense of joy brings deep contentment and is often expressed by gratitude for what we’ve been given.” (Lelanda Lee, author)

And in the fourth box I’d put Love. Love encompasses Hope; it brings Peace; and underneath all Joy you’ll find Love.

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Have a Happy Christmas!

 HOW'S YOUR HOLIDAY SPIRIT?

My Christmas Spirit went off and hid someplace. Or maybe he's visiting another of his people, helping them get in the holiday mood. Or maybe--{{gasp}}--he retired!

No use trying to figure it out. These past few years--pandemic time--have made it easier for me in some ways. (Stay in the buggy, it'll all become clear.) For instance:

• no shopping in crowds or noise or with a sense of Overwhelm
• no meals to prepare since none of us has a need to get together in a group (some of my children have their own familial pod gathering)
• no music to prepare for church services
• no gifts to wrap and mail

So, wouldn't you think I feel I'm missing out? Actually--not at all! Groups do overwhelm me; shopping is one of the very least of my interests, way down there with root canals and intestinal flu; and I'd much rather lick stamps to send checks and cash than make a gift look like the ones in the pretty ads on the Internet. About the only thing I miss is music, but I can still play music at home, either recorded or on the organ with my own ten digits.

Okay, let's list all the Christmas-y things we can do, even if we're locked down or just masked. Such as:

• Christmas movies - I have several and they're well-watched. The library has more. The Internet with its 10,000 opportunities to stream or subscribe or buy or merely watch (for free, they say) can provide enough videos to last me another 20 years or more, and in the meantime, there'll be newer ones available.
• Christmas stories - I hate to admit it, but I find every year that there are fewer and fewer good holiday stories; so many are just take-offs from other stories. 
• Christmas cooking - okay, I'm game for a nice meal. Baking cookies, though, isn't much fun if there aren't people to share them with, so I ignore the oven for the most part.
• Christmas cards and letters - my list grows shorter every year. So many people don't send any at all. Maybe I should hop on that bandwagon. But I do like to send a "family news" letter to some folks I've known for decades and who also know my children.
• Visits - via Zoom or other vehicles on the Internet. I've done that, once; but it's not one of my favorite things and takes a lot of planning with people in a variety of time zones.

Then yesterday, I got a song going through my head, realized it was "The Secret of Christmas," written by Sammy Kahn and Jimmy Van Heusen for Bing Crosby to sing in Say One for Me. The more the words came back to me, the more I knew they were the message I needed right now. So here they are, for you:

It's not the glow you feel
When snow appears
It's not the Christmas card
You've sent for years

Not the joyful sound
When sleigh bells ring
Or the merry songs
Children sing

The little gift you send
On Christmas day
Will not bring back the friend
You've turned away

So may I suggest, the secret of Christmas
It's not the things you do
At Christmas time but the Christmas things you do
All year through

Songwriters: Sammy Cahn / Jimmy Van Heusen

If you want to hear it, you can search for it on the Internet. Or you can hear Bing Crosby sing it in a small video I included in a blog post on December 24, 2019.

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I'll try to remember the secret of Christmas as I travel through the remaining days to the 25th of December. How about you?


Blessings,
Thursday's Child

 THE 3-LEGGED STOOL

You've probably come across this concept--perhaps in psychology, economics, education, leadership studies, and other settings.

I learned about it in my church:

Episcopalians value Scripture, Tradition and Reason equally. We often use the metaphor of a three-legged stool, with each leg of the stool contributing equally to our balanced approach. Each of the three sources of authority must be perceived and interpreted in light of the other two.

My normal everyday meandering thoughts don't often reach for that metaphor, but when I got a hint of an inkling for a blog post, there it was: the three-legged stool.

My topic was learning. Well, I've done that one before. Learning and Re-Learning. I've probably talked about lifelong learning--a buzz phrase that's been around for a decade or two in the world of education.

But this time--a different set of thoughts came along. Learning. Discovery. And then, the third leg of the stool, Sharing.

LEARNING   -   DISCOVERY   -   SHARING

We may be getting into chicken-and-egg territory here (to haul in yet another metaphor) when we discuss Learning and Discovery. Which comes first? It can be argued both ways.

As pre-schoolers, we learn about reading, recognizing shapes and pictures and adding sounds. Learning, yes. But also--Discovery. That word, ball, is what we say when we hold that object in the picture. If I'm asked to go get the ball so we can play outside, I know what to find in my playroom. If I'm asked to identify the picture in my little book, I can say ball. So, did I learn the word ball, or did I discover it while looking at pictures?

Probably safest to say: Learning is Discovery is Learning.

So far, so good. We could go on and on through our lives, learning and discovering and learning and . . . but so what? 

Of course I gave it away--we Share what we've learned and discovered. And how is that done? As Elizabeth Barrett Browning said, "let me count the ways." We Share practically every day without knowing we're doing so:

• explaining
• questioning
• writing a personal letter, entry in a journal, an article for publication, letter to the editor
• teaching another person
• suggesting a solution to a problem
• and so on and so on
  

I'd say, it's almost impossible not to share what we know. We do it without thinking, in our actions and our speaking. 

We also do it with thinking when we teach someone else what we know. Or when we make a suggestion in a committee meeting or to a neighbor or friend.

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This essay is short, because it covers so much of what seems natural in our lives. So here's the takeaway:

KEEP ON LEARNING

KEEP ON DISCOVERING

KEEP ON SHARING

 And while you're at it, have a blessed week!

Thursday's Child

CHOICES

I was going to call this essay "Opting Out," but that omitted its opposite, "Opting In." So I changed it to "Choices," because that's what Life is all about, after all. 

We choose our foods, our clothes, our furniture; we choose our friends, our mates, our mentors; and if we don't make those choices ourselves, somebody else will do it for us and we just might not be real thrilled about what we get. 

(If you don't believe all that now, read all the way through and then let me know. Or not, if you'd rather not admit your change of heart/mind. Or, you may not have a change.)

Yes, we flipped the calendar page today--or we will, once we get past our first coffee and a glance at the news. At our house there is a quasi-ritual about changing the calendar, because we have so many.

• Wall calendars - 8 at last count. Some are chosen because their pictures appeal to us; others were gifts; another one was a freebie given to my daughter.
• Desk calendars - 3 that I recall. They're all perpetual calendars, meaning they go through the entire year only by date; when we reach the end of the year, we turn it over and start the process again. (I have to confess, one was specifically for the year 2002; it commemorates Claude Monet and his art, and though it's pages have broken
  free and ready to fly off the desk, I keep it in check. Some pages are reproductions of his art; others are photos of Monet alone or with other members of his family.)
• Purse calendar - only one; it's available for making appointments when I visit medical facilities.
• Phone calendar - intended to reflect all the personal appointments already in the purse calendar, but occasionally something falls through the cracks and could be lost. (My fail-safe solution is to always carry both the purse and phone calendars. Belt-and-suspenders gal, remember?)
  
• Personal Daily calendar - a system I started a few years ago: Using an 8.5x11 spiral notebook, I allow one page per week--divide that one page into 8 squares (more or less square)--list each day's events or intentions or reminders. This is only for my own use, so I don't go into details. I can also remind myself that my sewing session for that day has been cancelled, or my knitting time won't take place that week. These are not rescheduled. They're Monday and Tuesday events. When they happen.

Once the calendars are up and running, I can relax a little. The new month has now officially started. If I've been diligent about putting my medical appointments on the kitchen calendar with the big squares, then both my daughter and I know where I'm going to be and when.

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Now comes the "opting" part. Let's take the typical day:

• Up at the normal time (this is iffy, but we'll assume it for a starting point). Make coffee, write in my journal.
• Next, watch an online program called Morning Prayer while I eat my breakfast.
• These two events are considered my normal morning routine.
• Then on to whatever "The Calendar" says is going to happen today, or needs to happen. If it's an event that requires me to go out of the house, I check the weather. Cold and wind are likely to keep me home, if I have that option. Both cold and wind attack my breathing, even with a mask. My energy is drained. If for some reason I absolutely have to go out and stay out for a time--shopping for groceries, picking up medications, going to an appointment--then I have to accept that there will be nothing more for me that day. When I finally get home, I'll be wiped out.
• By opting to do my errands/appts/etc, I've opted out of further activities later on.

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Years ago there was a popular saying, "Stop the world, I want to get off!" That was merely a clever way of saying, "Too much going on! I need to stop!" In those days nobody called it "opting out" but that was exactly what we wanted to do. Stop doing what we were doing, going to do, having to do.

On the plus side:

• Opting out means we're able to recover some much-needed time--for rest, for healing, for pursuing something important to us (reading a book, painting a picture, talking with a friend, cooking up a big batch of something yummy).
• Opting out can also help us cope with all the demands on our time. We don't have to say "yes" to absolutely demand or request. Really! It's okay to say "no" once in a while.
• Opting out can also give us the leisure we need to work through something thorny in our lives--a decision that has to be made, an issue that needs to be resolved.

On the minus side:

• Once you've got into the practice of opting out, it's a seductive business. Easy to decide it's "much-needed time" instead of just a way to get out of doing something else. The temptation to say "no" becomes less and less onerous; in fact, I've noticed I can say "no" without even thinking through the request being made of me. Hmmm.
• Opting out can also be a way of avoiding important issues--those thorny somethings in our lives. Too much avoiding becomes a habit. Trust me on this.

Always good to remember: Opting Out is a choice, yes. And if I may use a buzzword here, it needs to be done mindfully. Think about it. Pray about it, if that is your habit. You might even need to talk with someone about not-doing something that is being asked of you. You know your own self better than I do. You'll know how to proceed.

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Opting In may also be an important choice. Getting involved to help with problems in the church, community, family . . . again, be mindful. Not everything is your place to serve.

The main thing I know about Choices is this: Life would be a lot simpler if we had only to choose between TWO things at any one time. Right? Sometimes that happens. But what about those times when we have THREE choices or even FOUR/FIVE/EIGHT? I find it helpful to remember this: Simpler is not better. Having many possible choices can enrich our lives. It's our job, each one of us, to make choices to have the kind of life we believe is right for us. And, for others.

You want a simple life? Make choices to help that happen. You want a full, piled-up-high life? That requires different choices. Go ahead! They're yours to make.

Until next time, may all your choices be good ones!

Blessings,

Thursday's Child