BLESSINGS!

After the sabbath, as the first day of the week was dawning, Mary Magdalene and the other Mary went to see the tomb. And suddenly there was a great earthquake; for an angel of the Lord, descending from heaven, came and rolled back the stone and sat on it. His appearance was like lightning, and his clothing white as snow. For fear of him the guards shook and became like dead men. But the angel said to the women, "Do not be afraid; I know that you are looking for Jesus who was crucified. He is not here; for he has been raised, as he said.

WHAT IS IT ABOUT SPRING?


Is there something extra-special about this season?

Why not winter? People who love to ski and snowboard and sled and ice fish look forward to winter with fervor and impatience.

And summer--most kids I knew growing up couldn't wait for summer vacation. The tiny minority (me and three other kids) suffered until it was time to buy back-to-school clothes and shoes and pencils and tablets.

You'd think autumn would be the season I long for because it's my favorite. But here in the northeast corner of Indiana autumn doesn't seem to last long enough to register as a season. There are never enough autumn days to satisfy me.

But spring--what does spring mean for us?

An end to winter . . . yes, we look forward (some of us) to an end to predictions of multi-inch snowfalls, complete with freezing rain. We've grown weary of dressing in so many layers that it takes fifteen minutes to put them on and at least that long to get them off wherever it is that we're going. (More than once I've said the-hell-with-it and stayed home.) Leftover piles of snow that apparently aren't ever going to melt . . . cloudy skies . . . tiny breezes that ramp up just as I'm opening the front door to get the mail . . . .

What else does spring bring?

A beginning for new life--plants poke their heads above ground to test the air temp. Baby animals are born/hatched to start the cycle of life once more.

Beautification of roadside, yard, park--any place that hosts trees, shrubs, bushes, flower beds.

Warmer temps, you say? Those are a come-and-go proposition around here. Warm and sunny one day, cool and sunny the next. Then warm and cloudy (aka muggy), cool and cloudy (fog). If you want consistently warm days, you might want to emigrate farther south.

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Clearly the subject isn't open for debate, campaigning, or voting. Spring is what spring is. Spring comes when she comes. All my wishing and wanting, my ranting and railing, won't change the time or place or character of spring.

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Like you--like nearly everyone else--I'm ready, willing, and eager for spring to whisk in and change my days. 

Since this will be another long-ish wait (March 19th is the spring equinox), I'm trying to control my impatience. Hope you can do the same.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY!

We've just had January (6 family birthdays) and now we're working on February (2 family, 2 friends). 

If you don't have any b-days to celebrate this month, remember there's Abraham Lincoln on Feb. 12th and George Washington on Feb. 22nd. Or you can combine them into one grand President's Day, Monday, Feb. 17th. And if you're really in a party mood--celebrate all of 'em!

Here are some thoughts I gathered to entertain you while you're waiting for your own big day:

From Eleanor Roosevelt:

I think, at a child's birth, if a mother could ask a fairy godmother to endow it with the most useful gift, that gift should be curiosity.

From Pablo Picasso, some food for thought:

It takes a long time to become young.

More food for thought

Do you sing on your birthday? Do you serenade other people with "Happy Birthday"? In our family we call the Birthday Person and sing to them. Unless we have a bad cold, of course.

Ella should know.

And for a little light-hearted approach:

Erma Bombeck:

A friend never defends a husband who gets his wife an electric skillet for her birthday.

George Burns:

At my age flowers scare me.

And finally, some sage advice from a man who probably learned from painful experience:

He wrote great poetry, too.

Whenever your Big Day occurs, celebrate it! Remember, there's only one of you around--everybody else was taken.

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If you can't get out for a store-bought cake, here's a wonderful (easy) home-made variety:

Chocolate Mayonnaise Cake

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Grease a 9x13-inch pan.

Mix together:

   2 c. flour

   1 c. sugar

   1/4 c. cocoa

   2 tsp. baking soda

   1/2 tsp. salt

Add:

   1 c. water (or cold coffee)

   1 c. real mayonnaise

   1 tsp. vanilla

Beat 2 minutes. Spread in pan and bake 30-35 minutes.

You can also bake this in layers or a Bundt pan. Time required will be different.

Note: This cake was allegedly created by the wife of a Hellman's sales rep during WW II, when eggs and butter were often scarce. (Maybe the hens and cows went off and enlisted?) Anyway, it may also have been around during the Great Depression (approx. 1929-1941). I grew up with it in the '50s. Tastes as good now as then!

READING

In my neck of the woods, Winter has tried very hard to settle in, but Spring-like episodes keep popping up. Temps in the 40s (low to high), clouds/fog/rain, partly-sunny skies (fleeting, fleeting) . . . but nothing stays around long enough to say, "Ah, today it's really Winter." Or, "Oho, today it's really Spring-like."

The calendar tells us that Sunday will be mid-Winter--February 2 falls smack-dab in the middle of Winter, and to help us celebrate, Punxatawney Phil, the famous groundhog, will see his shadow, or not. Either way, Winter is still only half over.

For those of us who prefer to stay indoors, Winter is a perfect season for reading. (So is hot and humid summer, rainy spring, and windy autumn.) Today Thursday's Child will share some quotations about reading. Some might even make you chuckle or smile a bit. 

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From Beverly Cleary, age 103, who wrote books for middle-grade kids, especially boys; her books are still being read:

My mother always kept library books in the house, and one rainy Sunday afternoon - this was before television, and we didn't even have a radio - I picked up a book to look at the pictures and discovered I was reading and enjoying what I read.

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Mary Oliver, American poet:

As a child, what captivated me was reading the poems myself and realizing that there was a world without material substance which was nevertheless as alive as any other.

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Abraham Lincoln:

If I like a thing, it just sticks after once reading it or hearing it.

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From Maya Angelou:

Any book that helps a child to form a habit of reading, to make reading one of his deep and continuing needs, is good for him.

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From John Wooden, who was head coach of UCLA basketball:

The worst thing about new books is that they keep us from reading the old ones.

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An encouraging thought from Lawrence Clark Powell, librarian and author:

We are the children of a technological age. We have found streamlined ways of doing much of our routine work. Printing is no longer the only way of reproducing books. Reading them, however, has not changed.

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And a cautionary thought from Ray Bradbury, author of science fiction:

Thank you, all you readers, who help keep a culture alive. Pass it on.

OUTSTANDING PEOPLE

[January is my birthday month so it's one of my favorite times. Our families and friends honor us at birthday-time, but there are crowds of folks out there who deserve to be lifted up just because they were/are special. This post appeared a few years ago, and it's still true today.]

We recently honored the late Martin Luther King, Jr. with a day of his own. Next month we’ll celebrate the birthday-observances of Abraham Lincoln and George Washington.

Today I’d like to honor some folks who don’t have their own day carved out of the calendars we all hang on our walls, but who are, just the same, outstanding. I’ll give them aliases so they won’t be embarrassed if they find out they’ve been discovered.

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My mother’s first job outside the home was in a truck stop as waitress. She was perfect for the job—friendly, big smile, hard-working, full of good will. So my first outstanding person is a waitress I'll call Margo. Margo reminds me a lot of my mom: short blond hair, blue eyes, confidence in herself and her ability to do the work, personality-plus. I eat at the restaurant where Margo works about twice a month, more often in good weather. I always sit at one of “her tables” so we can chat. She knows what I like, even though my tastes change from time to time. She remembers little things, like salad dressing on the side, no croutons-no onion, on my salads.

A couple of times I ate at that restaurant when Margo was on vacation or it wasn’t her day to work. The other servers were good at their job, but I discovered I had to work harder to get my meal the way I wanted—Margo’s memory helps mine so much I don’t have to strain my brain.

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My favorite clerk at the pharmacy where I pick up prescriptions is Jenn. She’s nearing retirement, and I’ll hate to see her go. We’ve had a rapport from Day One—she remembers my name (I’m not there often enough to be considered a “regular”), always smiles; if I see her out in the store, away from the prescription counter, we always take a moment to chat. The other day I was at the pharmacy in the cold-cold weather, and we agreed we didn’t have cabin fever yet. She said, “I wouldn’t get cabin fever anyway! I always have plenty to do—reading, stitching, cooking . . . .” Sounded like something I’d say.

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The Post Office clerk I liked best was Pat, who has now retired. I saw her one day at Walmart and almost didn’t recognize her—she’s let her hair grow long. But she’s still outgoing and we recognized each other. Her knowledge of her job was wonderful; if you had a question, she could answer it. If you wanted to know the quickest way to get your package delivered, but didn’t want to mortgage the ranch to pay for it, she could provide possibilities—usually more than one. She always wished the postal patrons a good day when they left. I definitely miss her.

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So far I’m not worried about my family doctor (whom they now call the primary care physician) retiring soon. She’s the age of my son, about 10 days younger, so I can always estimate just how long she’ll probably be practicing. Naturally I continue to seek her advice because she’s good at her job—not just caring and compassionate, but intelligent and willing to work with a patient who refuses to take another pill (moi) or go to physical therapy again (also moi). 

But there's a plus-side to our visits, such as: what brings me there that day (usually 5-7 minutes on that one); how my writing is going (she writes books about anecdotes from her practice, a la James Herriott); how her writing is going; or if not writing, her current involvement in a triathalon, marathon, family wedding, or trip to a developing country with medical students. I leave her office feeling healed in spirit, as well as in body.

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Finally, I want to lift up three teachers who touched my life so that the ripples of their knowledge, their teaching, and their caring for their students are still opening out.

First was Miss Kincaid. (I've written about her before.) Ercel Kincaid taught fourth grade at Lincoln Elementary School in Charleston, Illinois. She was gentle and kind. She never humiliated a student. She encouraged talent. In her class I wrote my very first fiction story—I think it might have covered the front and back of one page of lined notebook paper. I fell in love with writing because of Miss Ercel Kincaid.

As a college undergraduate in English, I stressed over every darned paper I had to write. The problem wasn’t getting an idea—it was presenting all the information I needed to make the point. A three-page or five-page paper presented little problem; I could get my head around that size. But a 10-pager? Or 20?! I had the good sense to enroll in Advanced Rhetoric—which as we all know sounds like the dullest of the dull. But in the capable hands of Hank Sparapani, a recent IU Ph.D. recipient, the course was a joy to go to. I fell in love with writing all over again, all because Dr. Sparapani said to me, “You have great ideas. You just need to learn how to organize them into essays.” Nobody had ever told me I had great ideas. I nearly wept with joy. And I did, indeed, learn how to organize my ideas into essays.

The third teacher was Professor Steven Hollander, another English Department instructor, who taught several of the graduate level classes I took for my Master’s. This was another case of instant rapport—we had a similar sense of humor, liked the same music, read the same authors; we became friends, as well as teacher and student. When I taught comp classes in the department, Steve was the comp director. From him I learned how to teach—not because he gave lessons, but because I observed him in his classes and recognized his methods would suit me also. 

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Do you have outstanding people in your life? Of course you do. The connections we form with folks we meet often, or seldom, do a lot for us: lifting us up, teaching us something about ourselves, and treating us as if we’re important to them, too. I wouldn’t be surprised if we are.

SOMETIMES . . . another look

You may remember a blog back in the summer of 2017 when I explored the land of Sometimes.

Today I'm taking us on a different sojourn in the same land--a happy sojourn, because whether we know it or not, 

SOMETIMES JOY BREAKS THROUGH.

I can hear your question: Why wouldn't I want Joy to break through? Well, let's talk about that.

Sometimes, Joy breaks through when you're at a cemetery service for the interment of a loved one.

Sometimes, it's while you're reading a book that touches your heart and soul.

Sometimes, it's when you hear a piece of  music that draws you in and holds you, keeps you safe.

Sometimes, it can happen when you watch a young father change his baby's diaper.

Sometimes, on a gloomy day--a real downer--you suddenly feel like dancing (never mind your two left feet).

Why, we wonder? Why--or maybe, how--does this happen? For me, Joy breaking through happens this way:

--God breaks through our sadness.

--God parts the curtain, lifts the veil.

--And it happens because God loves us, wants us to be happy and loving and giving, even in times of grief and anger and disappointment.

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Nearly everyone has a favorite Bible verse. Mine is a partial verse, Matthew 28:20b--Lo, I am with you always, even to the end of the age.

These words have sustained me in the most trying times:

--travel in dangerous winter weather

--my mother's long illness and then death

--marriage at a young age

--birth of four children in six years, with no family nearby for help or support

--waiting for teenage children to return home at night

--erosion of a marriage, and eventual divorce

--learning I have serious health issues; living with cancer, heart disease, vision problems

Always--always!--God broke through the veil and let Joy return to comfort and keep me.

The success of Joy breaking through may depend, in part, on our willingness to let it happen.

Sometimes, the rut we wallow in is/becomes quite comfortable.

Sometimes, we see no possible way to go, to be.

Sometimes, we refuse help--believing that if we can't do it ourselves, then nobody else can help us.

And thus God has fashioned us human beings to help each other; to be God's eyes, ears, hands, arms, and feet where God would go, if only we'd allow it.

I  have to confess: I have a hard time accepting help; past experience has shown me getting help from others may have negative side effects. But I also freely confess, I wouldn't have made it through my life without the help of other people.

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Time for a little language lesson. Did you ever notice that enjoy contains the word joy? To en-joy is to inject joy into something. To make it happen. To summon it out.

And another good word for us is rejoice, also derived from joy. We sang "rejoice! rejoice!" during Advent. We sang "Joy to the world" at Christmas.

Perhaps we're hard-wired to keep joy in life, for ourselves and for others.

Be blessed!

IS IT A NEW YEAR?

We've flipped the page, maybe bought a whole new calendar.

Is it really new? Be honest--are you making radical changes in your life? In your goals? In your home/job/family/activities?

So what's really new in your life about 2020?

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Many years ago I was introduced to the idea of "living intentionally." This was a new way of looking at my life--and it opened up for me the act of choosing, of acting, instead of having things chosen for me, of being acted upon.

A few years ago I blogged about New Year's Intentions--some people call them resolutions, others use the word goals.

The tradition of choosing those intentions or resolutions or goals centers around January 1st, when we enter into a new year. But it doesn't harm me if I change my intentions partway through the calendar's page-turning. 

Trying a new intention--let's say, learning to play tennis--might turn out to be the worst possible choice I could make. In a few lessons I will no doubt learn that my ankles are weak (always have been), I can't move fast enough to return the serve (moving fast went away some years back), and my forehand is inhibited by tendinitis and arthritis in my right (dominant) arm. 

Those physical limitations don't prohibit me from learning about tennis, watching it in the Olympic games and tournaments, even, perhaps, writing about it, once I understand what I'm talking about.

The lesson for me is this: Just because I say I want to do something, to accomplish a goal, to dedicate my life to X, Y, or Z, doesn't mean it will be possible. But a modification of the goal, a change in perception, may work to my advantage. I'll still have weak ankles, but I can appreciate the agility and beauty of movement of the Olympic stars.

And a corollary to that lesson goes like this: If I don't live intentionally, I'll drift; so I better think about what intentions would be good to cultivate.

For me, those intentions run along certain lines, such as:

--using the gifts I've been given for good
--being alert to possibilities for serving 
--examining my life--Am I kind to others? Do I forgive easily? Do I show I care?
--listening more, talking less
--praying more
--being open to new ideas, new ways of doing things

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I don't have any sage (or otherwise) advice for you. But I will share this: Part of the joy of setting those intentions or goals comes during the journey, the searching for what fulfills your idea of yourself and what you want your life to look like.

Just remember--none of our thoughts and actions and intentions are set in stone. If a re-think shows you a better way, give it a whirl.

Hope your 2020 is a happy one--healthy, full of abundance and joy, and alive with whatever is new for you!