CHANGE

You can always tell when the season is shifting, because I blog about transitions and change. Here’s the latest batch—they’re all visuals because I don’t have anything new to say about change.

 C. S. Lewis, known to many as the creator of The Chronicles of Narnia, became a Christian late in life and wrote many books about faith.

Maya Angelou is known for I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings, as well as for many volumes of poetry.

Rumi was a 13th-century Persian poet, jurist, Islamic scholar, theologian, and Sufi mystic.

My  story--my life--is in my hands. Staggering thought, isn't it?

One early morning gratitude--mumbled while your eyes are trying to open, before the morning jolt of caffeine, before your feet hit the floor--just one expression of thankfulness can make a difference in how your day starts, continues, and ends.

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Change is taking place in my neighborhood. In the past eight months, three houses have sold, three more are on the market with Realtor signs in their yards. (We've managed to go through six different Realtors--another three or four to go and we've covered them all in our county.) This is remarkable because the whole street--one block long--has only 13 houses. 

Of the current occupants, only three were here when I moved in 31 years ago. We don't change quickly, but when we do--wow! Look out, world!

I expect to be here several more years--probably not 31, given the age I've attained. And I've made changes to my house; more coming shortly when the guys arrive to blow in insulation and re-side the house and garage. These changes I welcome because they'll make my house warmer in winter and cooler in summer.

Since change is inevitable, you--and I--might as well try to embrace it.

Have a wonderful week!

THE HAFTA FRENZY

My list-making frenzy came out of living a life full of “Haftas.” You know the kind of thing: I have to do laundry tonight before I go to bed.” Or, “I have to get to the grocery store before it closes.” Clearly this was long, long ago, before 24/7 grocery stores.

The underlying message ran along these lines: “Something Awful Will Happen If I Don’t!”

Really? Something Awful? Like:

-         On the surface: My kids won’t have clean jeans to wear to school tomorrow and the other kids will make fun of them. Or: We’ll have a blah meal that nobody will eat and all that food will be wasted.

-         Down one level: People will think I’m a bad mom and wife. People being my kids, husband, neighbors, complete strangers who see my underfed, poorly clothed children straggling from the bus to the school building.

-          At rock bottom: “They won’t love me.” Whoever they are.

Not a pretty scenario, is it?

Well, I learned some things, though I won’t tell you how long it took me to get there:

-         Everything doesn’t depend on me. Nor is everything about me.

-         Others need to be asked for their help—they’re important people, too.

-          Apologize, when necessary.

-          Forgive myself for not being perfect. (Still working on this one.)

-          Remember what it was like growing up—I had to forgive adults and get on with life.

-          Change have to to want to; makes a difference in myself--now the item on my list is not an obligation, it’s a choice.

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I have a few other words that have caused me to stumble over and over.

We’ve dealt with Hafta—with its messages of “Time’s running out!” and "You're gonna be in trouble!"

Hafta's sibling, Gotta, never seemed to carry the same urgency. “I gotta get my hair cut, it’s driving me mad.” “We’ve gotta get this house cleaned up. Soon!” Gotta items can stay on my list for quite some time—till I do nearly go round the bend and make an appointment for a hair cut, or company’s coming in an hour and just look at this mess! Some Gottas become Haftas. But I can live with Gotta. For a while.

Shoulda—ah, here’s one that ought to be banned from the English language. Shoulda keeps us living in the past. “I shoulda known there’d be trouble if I took that job.” “We shoulda kept the kids home the night of the party.” And saddest of all—“I shoulda visited my mom/dad/child/friend more often before death came.”

I shoulda known—how? Knowledge comes with experience, our own or that of others who share it with us. If we can’t change what happened, we can try to glean something from the experience to guide us in the future.

We can’t live well with regrets, and that’s what Shoulda invites. Remember when I said I had to forgive myself? That’s not a one-time thing. Take it from me: Forgiving myself—along with forgiving others—is a life-long practice.

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I hope you have fewer Haftas, Gottas, and Shouldas in your life. If they get out of hand, make your own list of ways you can change the focus from have to to choose to. I hope it lightens your load.

And have a wonderful week!

THINGS I’M NOT GOOD AT

Job-hunting has long been off my list of Things To Do. But I remember advice that went something like this: “Know the things you’re good at, and offer them at the job interview. They may be exactly what the potential employer is looking for.” Something like that.

In other words, “Accentuate the positive.”

Well, okay. Having lived several decades with my own set of things I’m good at and things I’m not so good at, and having been retired from active duty (8-5, five days a week) for a decade, I’ve had ample time to investigate the other side of the fence.

Let’s agree to not call it the dark side, all right? These aren’t bad traits. They aren’t going to get us in trouble that involves jail, court hearings, sentencing, and workin’ on the chain gang.

These traits are the things we’ve learned to live with, and around, and through. They’re part of our lives. Most of all, they’re what make each one of us the person we are.

So, here goes.

Things I’m Not Good At:

#1. Making friends

Not a surprise, because we moved so many times between first grade and ninth grade. Any friend I made during a school year would be left behind the following June when we moved on.

My mother, an extravert, decided I was too shy, lonesome, and friendless. Her advice: “Go right up to one of the girls at school and introduce yourself. Be friendly!”

If memory serves, I tried that two, or maybe three, times. The response was raised eyebrows that seemed to ask, “So what?” (Perhaps I exaggerate. But it was not a good experience.)

#2. Playing on the team.

Any team. Any group. An only child don’t learn the essential skills of (1) negotiating, (2) compromising, and/or (3) beating up the opposition.

Instead I learned to be a solo practitioner—turned myself into a bookworm—made Good Grades my goal. The reward was a scholarship to college, where I again skipped the team stuff and lived in my cave (library).

#3. Any sport.

Not even swimming, which can be done solo. I’ve never learned to be comfortable in water that comes up over my knees, and even though I took swimming in college Phys Ed (and earned an A, the Lord knows why), I remained a confirmed landlubber.

Perhaps the issue with sports is not expertise, but competition. There was a time I could compete with the best of ‘em—for grades, skills, roles in the school play. Now competing for anything seems pointless. Is that wisdom coming with age? Or just age encroaching? (Don't answer that.)

#4. House cleaning.

Did you see that one coming?

The thing is this: I know how to clean house. My mother kept the cleanest house on any block we lived on, and I always helped with the process. In fact, like my mother (and many other people) I love to see the house cleaned up, spic and span, clutter put away, surfaces dusted, windows shiny. But I don’t love doing the work.

I’ve also not enjoyed having my house cleaned for me—tried that a couple of times when health problems actually barred me from vacuuming and dusting and lifting anything that weighed over five pounds. Maybe I’m not tough enough to let other people come in and take over the cleaning.

I suspect, though, that the kernel in this nutshell involves the Accumulation of Stuff (yes, I know you’re tired of hearing about that).

#5. Miscellaneous.

Mixing with big groups. Celebrating with a lot of hoop-la. Evening meetings, no matter how vital the cause. Surprises (even good ones).

At my age, there’s a lot of “been there, done that” hanging about. Events that excite friends and family members don’t even make my Things-to-Consider List. Evenings, especially, find me grumpy if I’m asked to go out. Why? Because my energy levels are high from getting up (before 6 AM) till about 2 PM. After a short nap, I can manage some activity, but not going out in the evening.

And surprises—maybe I had too many surprises in my young life; nowadays, when I get a surprise that seems to be a good thing, I look for the kicker. How is this really going to play out? I ask. Surprise parties? Unh-unh.

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So, you ask, how did those things affect your life?

Here’s how:

#1. Making friends. I’ve made several good and true friends over the years. Some friendships are still going strong 22, 40, 46 years later. We don't live near one another and see each other only a few times a year. But the friendships are strong.

I have newer friends, especially folks I’ve met at church and with whom I work on a regular basis. And it wasn't difficult. I didn’t have to go up to anybody and say, “Hi, my name is Judith Palmer. What’s your name?”

I'll never number my friends in the hundreds. Social media doesn't keep my interest. But being an introvert doesn’t relegate us to the loneliness pile. We may seem shy, but we’re okay. Truly.

Mountain Pose

#2. Playing on the team.  The jobs I’ve held relied on my ability to work alone—with minimum guidance. The skills I gleaned over the early years of my life found a place to fit in. Best of all, I learned some of the negotiating and compromise skills on the job.

#3. Any sport.  Still true, I’m not a sports player or fan. But! I’ve found activities that support good health for my heart (and other body parts): Walking. Yoga. Tai Chi. These can be done alone or in groups or with a buddy. In yoga and tai chi, especially, there is no competition; in fact, competition is discouraged.

#4. House Cleaning.  Whoever first coined the phrase “Clean enough to be healthy, dirty enough to be happy” deserves a special citation. I’ve heard it attributed to people’s grandmothers, mothers, and an author in the ‘50s or ‘60s (probably Peg Bracken or someone like her).

Thus, my house may never—well, let’s be honest here—my house will never be as clean as my mother’s was, but it will be a house in which I am happy to live, its windows will shine sometimes, its surfaces will be free of dust sometimes, and the clutter is disappearing bit by bit.

My only problem with Accumulations is that so many of them recall something, or someone, important to me: a greeting card from one of my kids, a letter from a friend who is now deceased; an art object or a quilt/wall hanging/pillow made by one of my kids or a friend; a gift from someone special; books I’ve treasured . . . .

What I’m learning about reducing clutter and downsizing is that perhaps, just perhaps, somebody else will enjoy what I’m giving away. Someone I don’t know, and will never meet, will open a book or listen to a CD or wear a sweater that once was an important part of my life.

#5. Miscellaneous.  Giving up evening meetings, noise and hoop-la, crowds—not hard at all. People have learned that I don’t do much of that kind of thing. As for surprises, I do enjoy little ones—like a new TV series (new to me could mean its seven years gone) that I’ve never seen, with actors who are superb in their roles; or a new book by an author I adore; or (please don’t laugh too hard) opening a box of fabric and re-discovering a lovely piece I bought some time ago, haven’t used yet, and am still in love with.

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There you have it. Things I’m Not Good At. How they’ve assimilated themselves into my life.

Celebrate those traits that make you who you are. They may be positive traits. Or Not-So-Positive. Or just So-So traits. You don’t have to boast about them. Just accept them. Explore them. They’re you.

And have a wonderful week!

EASING OUT OF AUGUST

School buses join the traffic. Kids with backpacks trudge toward the nearest bus stop. A heavy rainstorm has greened up our brown lawns almost overnight. The year is moving on.

Today is the last Thursday of August, 2016. Next week we’ll be welcoming September.

But before I let go of this month, I’ve been—you guessed it—making lists.

To Do

-put new expiration sticker on my license plate

-deliver items to Goodwill

-deliver boxes of books and videos to the library for its monthly sale

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To Continue

-sort more boxes of music (started this project several days ago with a goal of one box at a time; and please don’t ask how many more I have)

-cut fabric for pillow cases and blankets for the sewing group at church; these items go to the Neonatal ICU at a regional hospital

-cut even more blankets for Frances (I wrote about her last week) who has already made 15 little blankies and phoned today to say she’s ready for more :-)

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Keep on Top of

-Christmas gifts to make—one down, one in the works; more to consider: make or buy?

-yard work—trim bushes and peonies

-house cleaning

-regular exercise and walking

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Ways to Cope

-meditate; pray (to lighten the load by sharing it with God)

-read (my escape)

-have coffee or lunch with a friend (to remind me I’m not the only one with problems and deadlines)

-a little retail therapy at a fabric shop (to lift my creative spirits)

-watch a movie or TV series I’ve not seen before (especially the oldies that have been discontinued)

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Before August exits stage left, my town gears up for a Labor Day Weekend celebration of classic automobiles. Weekend is a misnomer—events begin the Wednesday before Labor Day and continue into the following week. Already the cars of the '20s and '30s, and the '40s and '50s, have begun arriving. The population swells to staggering numbers, and if you're trying to get anywhere in the city limits you have a challenge ahead of you.

September, after the Labor Day hoop-la, will bring its own demands (I foresee another list-making session). Days will grow shorter (we perceive them as shorter, but we know that’s only the amount of daylight). Temps will drop. Football fans sitting in the bleachers will be wearing sweatshirts and gloves and hats. I won’t need my sunglasses when I leave the Y at 7 AM. I’ll get up in the dark and go to bed in the dark. (Hibernation is looking good again this year.)

The 30 days of September will pass quickly—all the other months have done that as well—and we’ll be looking at pumpkins and ghosts and goulies. And the next thing we know, we’ll be carving turkeys.

I’m not in a hurry to usher out 2016. Don’t get that idea going. I've just learned, from years of experience, that there’s a lot of stuff ahead, time passes quickly, and we need to revel in what we have this very day.

So—it’s still August. Still summer here in NE Indiana.

Enjoy. Wherever you are.

3 AMAZING WOMEN

Today I want to celebrate the lives of three women who have crossed my path and left it a better road to travel.

First is a woman named Doris H. whose obituary I read a day or so ago. She lived in my town for many, many years, and taught third grade in various schools in our district. After her retirement from teaching, Doris volunteered in different arenas; the one I knew best was her work with the Stephen Ministry program in a church where I was a member. Doris and another member took intensive training so they could, in turn, train other members of the congregation in ministering to the needs of the parish. They both gave many hours of service to prepare other Stephen ministers who would work with people in need.

In Doris’s 94 years, she was foremost a teacher, an encourager to all who met her.

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Iola's roses

Second in my list of amazing women is a woman named Iola W., who died a couple of days ago. She was 83, a native of Kentucky, and one of a large family. Iola was my neighbor for over fifteen years. Her love of the outdoors kept her from languishing inside during almost any weather. Even winter. During nice weather she could be seen strolling through the neighborhood, admiring other people’s flower gardens, stopping to chat. When the city street department worked in our area, Iola was out there asking what they were doing.

Nobody took offense, because Iola was a kind, loving soul. That is how I’ll always remember her.

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My third woman is one I’ve never met, though I’ve heard about her and heard her voice on my answering machine. Her name is Frances K., and her age, I’m told, is in the upper-90s. In her younger life she was a professor of history. Until recent years, she attended Bible study at my church, but now her health is less certain and she has trouble getting around.

Yet, despite Frances’s health problems, she recently phoned a member of my sewing group and asked to be included. She has a sewing machine, she said, and she might as well help. So a small sampling of blanket kits was sent to Frances. In a few days, she left a message for me: If you’ll send me 10 or 12 more blankets, I’ll mail them all back together.

Frances, an amazing woman, is a doer.

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All three of these women have been on my mind during the past week. Frances, of course, because she phoned. Iola and Doris because their obituaries were published locally, and memories of them flooded in.

What better mentors—intentional or perchance—could anyone have? A dedicated teacher—a loving neighbor—a woman who won’t let age stop her from doing her bit.

I lift up these women to you. And I hope you also are blessed with amazing women—and men—in your lives.

UN-FAVORITES

I’m glad July is past and done. I wouldn't banish it from the calendar (I know some great people born in July). But I'd like to change its personality.

Nothing bad happened in July. But then, nothing great happened either, except visits with my daughters.

Weather was too hot—nothing new there, either. June had many hot days. August is already showing us 90-degrees, day after day.

My main complaint against July is that I had no energy. Picture permanent jet lag. Mega sleep deprivation. Get it?

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Thinking about my less-than-fond attitude toward July 2016, I found other un-favorites coming into view. Such as:

Inclement weather—hot and humid; cold with harmful wind chills; hard rain (never mind that the ground is dry and grass is dead) that comes so fast it measures four inches deep on my patio.

Poor editing—I’ve already blasted the misuse of the apostrophe, so we can let that one rest. There are many examples of poor editing of published books: nouns and verbs that don’t agree (“she don’t”; “we was”; these are not in the dialogue to indicate an uneducated person); missing punctuation that gives a confusing meaning; wrong words (hone and home are two that make my BP spike).

Assumptions—such as, assuming what is on the Internet is true; or, what is said in a TV show by a doctor/nurse/lawyer/teacher is gospel; or, people with advanced degrees know everything. (This last one is often assumed by the people with advanced degrees.)

Conclusions jumped to—If I fill my trash or recycling bin, I’m wasteful. If I keep things I might need someday, I’m a hoarder.

Car trouble. Need I say more?

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You get the picture, without more irritating examples.

As I thought about today’s topic, I wanted to leave you with something positive. And how can I make something positive from a list of pet peeves?

Well, let’s look at the above list.

If I lived in Tucson, the weather would be beaucoup hotter than here in NE Indiana. Less humid, though.

If I lived in upper Minnesota, their winter would make the local one feel balmy. (International Falls is up there, somewhere, and it always has the nation’s coldest of the cold temps.)

If I lived in Seattle, I’d have rain many many many days, instead of the less-often ones here.

Poor editing—well, I don’t know what to do about that. I won’t give up reading. And I have no ambitions to be an editor.

Assumptions are difficult to correct. They undermine some folks. They’re ubiquitous. And—darn it all—sometimes they’re true.

As for Conclusions jumped to, don’t waste your time with me. I’m downsizing.

Car trouble—last night my car wouldn’t start; not the battery, so I fear something worse (as in, more expensive). Will know later today.

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Here’s today’s take-away: If you didn’t have un-favorites, you wouldn’t have, or recognize, something better.

Weather reports from other parts of the country remind me that I’m fortunate to live here in the Midwest.

Poor editing—when I recognize this, I’m instantly putting out too much energy being irritated. My life is enhanced by good stories, good biographies, good information; I’ll redirect the energy there.

Assumptions—other people’s, of course—make it clear that we’re not all alike. Listening—really hearing what someone says—might enlarge my knowledge of how other folks think and act; I might gain understanding of new ways of thinking.

Conclusions you might jump to about me—don’t worry, I’m downsizing as fast as I can. And as “green” as I can manage.

Yes, I was really ticked off at my vehicle. Old Reliable wasn’t so reliable this time. The upside is: I do have a vehicle of my own (paid for, etc.), I still have a valid driver’s license, I know my way around my town and into Fort Wayne and even beyond, and I am so, so grateful for the privilege of driving.

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Now we’re in August. School has started—the big yellow buses trundle down the streets and roads—kids walk to and from the bus stops, backpacks in place. The sun rises later, sets earlier. My surprise lilies did their usual sudden pop-up. I’m making Christmas gifts—one afghan down, one quilt to go.

Un-favorites notwithstanding, my cup runneth over. Verily.

Have a great week!

OASIS

noun

1. A fertile spot in a desert where water is found.

2. A pleasant or peaceful area or period in the midst of a difficult, troubled, or hectic place or situation.

"An oasis of calm in the center of the city"

     synonyms:     refuge, haven, retreat, sanctuary, sanctum, shelter, harbor, asylum

"The park is an oasis filled with half a million flowers and thousands of lights."

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I once received some good advice from a friend: paraphrased, it went something like this: “Do what you can to make your own little corner of the world a better place.”

At the time that advice was given, I was feeling a little sorry for myself. Probably 99.44% of the human race have at one time or another felt a little bit sorry for themselves. And there’s always somebody around willing to give you (1) good advice, (2) a hug, if needed, or (3) a kick in the pants. All three work.

I want to digress a little here—self-pity, though considered a negative state, isn’t all bad. It may be merely a transient state in which to examine oneself, one’s condition, one’s responses—a time of active self-care. Such a time can lead to healing.

You've no doubt heard this many times: “If we don’t take care of ourselves, we’ll have nothing to give others.” In recent years, this advice is given to caregivers who spend a large part of their time taking care of family or friends during a long, perhaps terminal, illness. Caregivers are urged to get out of the house; go to appointments on their own; take an hour or two for shopping at leisure, doing errands. Friends are always available to sit with the patient.

Think about it. An empty vessel holds no balm. We all need to replenish our inner resources.

There are many ways to fill the empty vessel—travel, study; creative endeavors; reading, music; movies. Escapist, you say? Well, maybe; sometimes; and that could be the best way to start filling the vessel of our lives again.

Escapism, like self-pity, is not a permanent address. It’s a place for stepping back; a breathing space. Some folks go on retreats—the kind where you aren’t expected to interact with a lot of other people. Some find solace and peace and healing in prayer or meditation.

None of this has to involve travel or money. Go to the local park and sit in the sun (or shade, if you prefer) and let breezes and bird song wash over you. Or go for a solitary walk, or take your dog with you; or walk with someone who also knows how to be silent. Whatever the season, there’s a place you can go to withdraw from noise. One of my favorite places is the public library. Amazing how other people’s voices disappear when I’m reading at the library.

Breathing space may be as near as your patio, or a quiet room in your house. Make your own oasis. You’ll return to it again and again. It’s a place to just be.