Road Rage & The Big Bad Wolf

Last nights road rage event still haunts my mind. I'm able to forget it while doing other things, but once I stop, or get in the car to go somewhere, it's up close and personal, once again. I allowed the world to know of it by posting on FaceBook, which I swore I'd never do. Too many posts about every little thing that happens, and it gets quite boring. To be honest...

I've been looking into the situation (a bit), today, as time allowed. And many of my FB friends have given excellent advice, as well! Still, I wanted to see what the law enforcement community recommended. 

Someone that goes by the name of Pam Shadel Fischer, and holds the title of Senior Director of External Engagement with the Governors Highway Safety Association, says, "It's like the Wild West out there, and it's just unacceptable." Law enforcement officers tell her "There are so many angry drivers, road rage aggressiveness, people going at incredibly high rates of speed and people being really unpleasant to each other,” she said. “It is very concerning.”

Not to belabor this, I'll just leave you with what little I have found.
Friends from FB: 

1) Keep doors locked and windows up. 
2) If you are headed home, make sure they aren't following you. If necessary, pull into a police station parking area, until they drive on by. Then later go the opposite direction, in case they are waiting on up the street. 
3) Carry a taser/flashlight with you, that can be used as either. You can buy a long one that is like a nightstick and if they try to grab it, it will zap them. It also has a very loud noise when it goes off.

And this from the internet...
How to respond if you’re being targeted: 
If you’re on a multilane road, move out of the angry driver’s way. You could turn off the road to get away, said Fremin, the retired Houston police captain, but you shouldn’t pull over. “If you pull over and stop, they’re going to pull over and stop,” he said. “That’s what they’re wanting you to do.” If you do end up in a scenario where someone approaches your car, lock the doors, lay on the horn and call 911. Don’t get out of the car, Fischer said.

You should also call 911 if you’re being followed. “Tell the dispatcher you have an aggressive road rage driver that’s following you, and the dispatcher is going to start quickly relaying that information” to an officer, Fremin said. Don’t hesitate to involve the authorities, he added. “It’s just a very dangerous issue we have happening right now,” and it’s best not to take any chances.

(copied and pasted from the Washington Post...an article written on April 19th of this year) If you’re being pursued by a rageful driver, resist engaging in any way. “You don’t want to respond to their aggression with your own aggression,” Fischer said. “Absolutely don’t make eye contact, and refrain from gesturing. If you show your frustration, it’s going to escalate even more.”

I hope you never have to experience this, but if you do, knowledge is power...

As always, here you will find me...in Mary's World
P.S. How does the Big Bad Wolf fit in here? I have no idea. It just sounded like a good attention getter...😂

An Amazing Thing About Christmas (and It's Abbreviated Form)

For sooooo many years I had an aversion to spelling the word "Christmas" as "Xmas." Making gift lists, I always had to write it as My Christmas List. I was tempted to write Xmas, because I'm always in a hurry. but I just couldn't...

What was really at the root of it, though? Well, I'm not 100% positive, but somehow there seemed to be a fear that I was disrespecting the One who rescued me from myself, something I couldn't do on my own. I would always honor him. Most of my life I have heard that the term "Xmas" was a weapon used in an alleged "war on Christmas" that came directly from the pits of hell, or the media, as some would say. Seriously. If you have never heard that phrase, just keep your ears open, because it's about to start being declared amongst us church folk, at least during this time of year. Innocently, of course! I was one of them for many years. But, the truth will set you free, I've heard. 😉😉 

I've always (more so now that I'm getting closer to the end of my journey here), searched for the truth in any given situation. And now, I've ran across some interesting tidbits of substituting Xmas for the word Christmas, and why some are offended by it and others aren't. My ears (eyes) perked up the first time I saw this. Maybe because it described me to a "t". 

It seems there is a particular belief system that gets offended when "Christ" is taken out of Christmas. Did you realize that 6 in 10 people with evangelical beliefs (according to a 2018 Christianity Today article), find the use of Xmas instead of Christmas to be offensive? And this had been ME! Always judging the intent of the heart.

Hope you're sitting down, because I'm about to help you rethink your position on Xmas, if you are one of those 6 in 10. "When we search for truth, we'll find it" (Matthew 7:7 paraphrased). Want to know the irony of all this? Xmas has been used by CHRISTIANS and the church for HUNDREDS of years, long before the term appeared in holiday advertisements and packaging. Yup. You read that right! There was never an intention to remove Christ from the holiday that celebrates him. Truth, you ask for? Well...the X stands for chi, the Greek letter that begins the word "Christ" or "Christos."

The first Roman emperor to convert to Christianity (Constantine), instructed his soldiers to display the letter on their shields before the battle of Milvian Bridge. The abbreviation also appeared in early Greek manuscripts of the New Testament. Hmmmmm...

The English version of the abbreviation dates back to at least 1021, when an Anglo-Saxon scribe shortened Christmas to "XPmas." (X and P indicate chi and rho, the first two Greek letters of Christ, and Constantine combined them to create the "XP" symbol for Jesus. Eventually, the letter P was dropped.)

Have you ever heard of, or maybe you are a parent, that calls your child by his/her initials instead of their birth name? Most of us shorten longer names, right? Our oldest daughter's daughter, has as her first name, Warner. That's the name she goes by, but when her momma writes about her, or sends a text, she most usually types out "W", instead of the whole name. The name of Christ is no different, when writing "Xmas". Remember that X stands for chi, the first letter of the word Christ.

R.C. Sproul, renowned theologian, makes note that when his parents took him home from the hospital as a newborn, they called him R.C. and in his words, "nobody seemed to be too scandalized by that." He noted that X as an abbreviation for Christ came into use in our culture with no intent to show disrespect for the Son of God. "There's a long and sacred history of the use of X to symbolize the name of Christ," he said, "and from its origin, it has meant no disrespect." 

But I get it. An "X" just seems to cross him out, leaving only a mess (mas) in its wake. I KNOW you've heard THAT! It's everywhere! But, may I suggest that it is US, and not a simple acronym, that takes Christ out of Christmas? We are the ones that create a mess when we intentionally leave the meaning of this most wonderful gift, in the shadows of making sure everyone has everything they ever wished for in what money can provide. Yes. It is the season of opening our hearts to give. But where we go wrong is in giving so much to ourselves and our loved ones, instead of those that Christ came for. The lost in spirit. The hungry in spirit. The needy in spirit. All that we see are results of a life lived for oneself that has no capacity to see others needs. That, I believe, is why as Christians we fear that we are REALLY "xing" out Christ, if we write out the word as Xmas.

Wrapping this up, could I also suggest the next time someone protests, "Let's put Christ back in Christmas," we can remind him or her that Christ has always been in Christmas. And he always will be. A simple Xmas can't delete him. We may not include him in the celebration that was designed for him, but he will always be "the reason for the season" as we say.

Always searching for truth, here you will find me...in Mary's World

P.S. Inspiration for this particular blog came from the book, 101 Amazing Things About Christmas

Scribbles

For as long as I can remember, I have been a "play by the rules" kind of gal. No "coloring outside the lines" either. Keep everything neat. Everything has a place, and everything in its place, has been my motto, so-to-speak.

Until I hit the 70's. Not the 1970's. MY 70's. Age does something to a person. It mellows them. I think we finally learn the things we have always held to, has now become less than important. Or at least less important as we once thought.

Our oldest grand-daughter has taught me many lessons in finding ways to loosen up. Case in point: I keep a planner on the desk in my study. It helps me to write goals and to-do's on a calendar. It keeps me somewhat organized, so it's kind of a big deal. And of course, the planner must be all sufficient, with neat lines that allow clearly written notes. Always written in pencil, just in case something needs adjusted. No messy scribbling through jotted down reminders.

Reagan has always loved "working" in my study/office. Maybe because she learned from a very young age that if someone needed to find me, all they had to do was to go to my office. It's the hub of my existence. One day she decided it was she who needed to utilize the "big chair" and Grams who should sit in one of the occasional chairs, just across from the big desk. She would be the boss for the day; the one who did the questioning and giving out orders. I liked this set-up, so we let it play out. She was the best boss I have ever come across in my lifetime. So patient and understanding. It was a good day. *wink *wink

As any prepared entrepreneur would do, she began writing down her own notes (scribbles) in the protected planner. My initial response was to go on high alert. "Hey, sweetie. That's Grams journal. You can't write in it. Let me get you something else to write on." But, anyone who knows our Reagan, knows it will take more than a suggestion to change her mind about whatever it is she has decided to be a good thing to do. So, I walk over to where she is "writing" with the intention of removing it, when I looked at her and saw this angelic face that was having such a good time being like Grams. I cringed at seeing all my spaces being occupied with nothing but scribbles. Then she looks at me and says, "What does that say, Grams?" My heart melted and all of a sudden those scribbles became the most important notes written in my book. "Well, this one here says, 'My Grams loves me so much! She is just the best Grams ever!" And this one here says, "I love my Grams more than anything, and almost as much as my Momma." She corrected me on that one. "No Grams. You read that wrong. It says I love my Momma more than ANYONE!" "Oh yes, little stinker, Grams read that wrong. Sorry. You're right. It DOES say you love your momma more than anyone."  This dialog went on for a good 15, or so, minutes. She would scribble some more and ask me again what it said. We had so much fun that day, that it became somewhat of a weekly, if not daily, ritual. This 2022 Planner will be one that I keep, if for nothing else but to look back at and remember the conversations we used to have while playing in the study/office. It will always be a favorite of mine. This always neat, always rule following Grams, allowed a child to teach her a thing or two about what really matters.

These scribbles in my Planner were made over 2 years ago, now. Our girl is growing up so fast and can now read her own writings. She doesn't need Grams' far fetched interpretations. Interpretations that made sense only to Grams (and possibly Reagan Paige), and lives only in this Grams' mind. We now play the "read my mind" game, in which she asks us to tell her what she's thinking. We rarely get it right, but when she guesses what Gramps, or myself, is thinking, she ALWAYS gets it right. "Reagan is the best girl I have ever known." "I love her so much." "I love her more than anything." "She is so smart!" This list goes on. She gets us...

I'll leave you with this thought: Even when your life feels as if it's nothing but a bunch of scribbles, don't underestimate the strong foundation being built by those scribbles. Barbara Johnson, Christian Author and Humorist, said it best: "Trial and triumph are what God uses to scribble all over the pages of our lives."

As always, here you'll find me...in Mary's World

I Listened to the Wind This Morning

It's been a full week now, since I became symptomatic with the Covid-19 virus. Which variant, only God knows. The bend in the road has finally appeared, and I am headed for full recovery. What's left of my immune system, showed up and did battle for me. I can't say it's been a hard week, as some would define hard, but it hasn't been the easiest, either. But that's not what I've come here to talk about.

I came to talk about the things a person can learn when they take the time to listen. Even the wind will tell its story, if we but listen. Did you know it can't be heard unless it rubs up against something? Of course you did. Sometimes it sounds like a gentle whisper as it brushes up against your hair, much like its doing this morning, causing me to long for more; so I sit...waiting as it captures my full attention. 

We should never underestimate the wind, however. Sometimes it can be worked into a frenzy and sound like a train coming down a track, causing fear to mount. But not this morning. This morning, it came to soothe me as it rustled the fallen leaves, causing them to rise and fall as the dance began. The sound of acorns, walnuts, & pecans, began their decent to the patio floor, making their own kind of music. It rang the chimes hanging from the pecan tree that shades the girls play set, and the cool breezes began to give me a chill, letting me know the heat from the last few months, is no more. Relief has finally come.

Time to snuggle in a warm robe. Time to quiet ourselves. To listen. To slow down. To live peacefully. To allow the noise to subside within us and allow our spirit to be refreshed. To breathe deep and exhale slowly. The wind can teach us, if we but listen.

Funny thing about the wind. It can't be seen, but we know it's there by the evidence our senses give us. We can feel the wind as it blows gently (or severely) over us. We can see the movement it causes in things around us. We can hear the brushing against things as it sweeps past. There's evidence of it being real. We just can't see it, because it's cloaked in faith. Faith that it's real. It's accessible. It's always present. So much like our God, and the Spirit within us. Just think on that for a minute, or more.

The message the wind brought to me today? "You did not choose me, but I chose you." ~John 15:16, and And what a great story that is! We usually take that Scripture to mean it's all about us. When in fact, it was all about Him. It's not because of our goodness, that He chose us. It's because of HIS goodness!

Now I don't want to leave. But, I must.

Leaving you today with this... The wind can roar, howl, scream, thunder, whisper, sigh, murmur, tinkle, and so much more. Listen to it and feel what you hear! The wind speaks your name when you least expect it.

As always, here you'll find me...in Mary's World

The "Good Old Days"???

The picture you're looking at, popped up in my Facebook newsfeed yesterday morning (during the full 15 seconds I was on there). Facebook has become pretty boring with all the adds and just crazy stuff one has to sift through to find if family, or friends, have posted something you'd like to see.

However, when I see something like this, it always brings to mind the prominent saying, "In the good old days...". Yes, housing may have been much less than today, along with everything humanity needed in order to live a decent life. But what we sometimes fail to think about is, the cost of living was not what it is today, either. The average income was MUCH less, along with the cost of housing.

I can remember an ice cream cone costing around $.10, when I was a kid, and bread was under a dollar a loaf. Gasoline was $.29 a gallon, and we thought that was high! (Compared to today, that would mean we would be paying $3.03 per gallon.)  I was still a kid in the 50's, so I have no idea what mom paid on her once a month trips to town for the staples needed to cook and clean. Salt, sugar, etc... Food was no problem because it had all been canned and stored up from the previous summers harvesting. I'll never forget our large apple field!

What all these postings fail to report is what the average income was for the working man/woman. Actually, the "normal" household was supported on only one income. That may come as a shock to some. Women haven't always worked in corporate America. The wife stayed home to care for the children and to see to everything that would create a "welcome home" atmosphere for the husband at days end, since he was the bread winner. It was an expected thing. The woman held the family together, while the man provided the income to do so. It was a different world...

Back to the cost of housing...

Just how long would it take to save enough money to purchase a home that cost $7,450, in the 1950's? A luxury two bedroom, 1 bath house that had a screened in porch? Well, the average income in 1955 actually rose from what it was the year before, coming in at a whopping $3,400 as the hourly wage increased from #1.00 an hour, to $1.15 per hour. Nice! Does this sound anything remotely as a good old day? How would you like to go back to that time, now that you know this?

Are we wishing for the good old days yet? Many say it was a simpler time. I don't know about you, but there was nothing simple about working from 4 AM to 5PM, tending cattle (this would take 3 pages explaining, by itself), working in the fields, shoveling cow manure, falling trees for logs to be hauled to the mill, then sawed for either selling, or used for fire starting, harvesting crops of vegetables, preparing them for winters food, nor all the various other duties that life on the farm demanded. Oh yeah. The pigs and chickens also had their own needs...

Maybe some people sat in rockers on blissful porches, with neighbors, as they shot the breeze and drank sweet tea. Sorry, I just don't ever remember that happening on the Prater's watch. We had to get to bed so we had the strength for the next day. I always loved school. I think it was, in part, because I got to sit and learn from books and play with school kids. We, okay I, never liked summer break. It meant all day work. Maybe that's why I don't like summer now? Hmmmm...never thought about that before. Nope. It's just because it's too dang hot, and there are just toooooo many bugs, spiders, snakes, scorpions. Varmits! And "WORK" is not a dirty word to me. It's what keeps me sane, keeps me feeling a bit useful, and maybe needed.

Anyone that has read any of my blogs probably knows I came from a rather large family. We worked the land to provide for ourselves. The home I grew up in had only 2 bedrooms, no indoor plumbing, no HVAC system. Just a bunch of boards nailed together for shelter, mostly. We did have an awesome pot-belly wood burning stove, in the living room, where, on any given winters night, you could find us warming our bed blankets and bricks that would be used to help keep the toes from freezing during the night. On occasion, we shared the space with new piglets that had been brought in out of the cold to prevent the possible accidental death by the big momma rolling over on them. Summer months, we depended on the big window fan to cool us down. Does anyone remember getting really close to the fan and letting it talk back to you as your voice flowed through its fast moving blades? That was our entertainment back then.

Side note: Mom also cooked the family's meals on a wood burning stove. We felt well taken care of. 😁

Even though there were 10 of us kids, I don't recall more than 6 living in that house. The older 4 were grown and married, or serving in the military, not long after I was born. In fact, the oldest of the clan had married and had her own daughter before I was born. The first time I remember meeting my older sister, was when I was 14 years old. She lived in Tennessee and I in Oklahoma. I think I need a sit down visit with the only known surviving brother I have. He could fill in some of those gaps for me, I'm sure. I do remember the bedrooms were small, just like the rest of the house, but with window fans. One was just large enough for 2 regular sized beds to be butted up together at the head of each, so 2 girls could sleep in one and 2 boys in the other. The older two sisters got the 2nd bedroom that was large enough for just one bed. I think possibly, there was also a small dresser in each bedroom, for storage. Mom and Dad slept on a small bed in the living room.

I get off track so easily, it seems. Too many memories wanting freedom. I guess the point I'm trying to make is that any day one is healthy, and able to provide food and shelter for their loved ones, should be considered a "good old day". It's all relevant, right? And every day has a down side, as well. Right?

Back in those days, consequences were expected to be given out immediately, or "as soon as your dad gets home." It was never something we took lightly, because, hey! Those peach tree limbs were very limber and wrapped around the legs with a force that felt like your skin just might catch fire. Now, before you start feeling sorry for us, our parents loved us. It was the method of discipline they were taught to keep their children from becoming a liability to society. We were trained to be independent, yet respectful of those who had authority over us. It's no easy task being a parent. My Dad used to say, "This hurts me more than it hurts you." I never understood that, until I became and adult. 

To wrap this up, let me just say I think we throw out terms much too flippant..."The good old days" have, in my opinion, been over used, abused, and downright misinterpreted, kinda like the Bible. We just pull out segments we agree with and love to think about, and sweep the rest under the proverbial rug and then yearn for something that really wasn't that great. Unless of course, it was that great. Let's just let life interpret life and the Bible interpret the Bible, shall we? Still love me? 😉🤣 

As always, here you will find me...in Mary's World, possibly sipping sweet tea on the screened in back porch. 

Can We Judge A Book By Its Cover?

You've probably heard the saying that you can't judge a book by its cover. Right? Even the title rarely gives away the truth of its contents. It might give you a "heads up" every now and then, but you gotta be watching for it. However, if it intrigues us, we purchase it and begin the journey within its covers. When we begin spending time with the book, that's when the true story is revealed.

In comparison, sometimes we wonder why an individual seems so much like the "perfect" human being until we do life with them on the daily. When those bumps in the road trip us up, such as, helping with household duties, the kids, yard work, laundry, meal planning, etc. Or when those mountainous ranges cause us to fall long and hard, such as a family tragedy, health concerns, infidelity, etc. That is when the true nature of the life inside us is revealed. That is when the book begins to find its own twists and turns, the stability (or lack thereof) of its own story. That is when we find the truth of who they are. Who WE are!!!

Living life with another human will either make you great, or cause you to start doubting yourself. There WILL be bumps and mountains in every life lived. We all have a story to tell. As long as there is breath in the body, as long as a heart beats, a story is unfolding day to day. Page by page. Chapter by chapter. Until the end...

A casual acquaintance never sees the truth that lies deep within a person. That is reserved for those willing to take a journey with another. Reserved for those willing to climb the highest mountain, or kick stones off a beaten path, with another sojourner. There will be bruised hearts and misunderstandings. There will be strong discussions as couples hammer out a solution. And there will be hearts that glow with intense love during the strongest of storms, knowing their partner will always have their back, always look after their needs, and always trust that God is the one who directs them through it all.

Don't you just love a good book, though?! Those that grab you with the first paragraph? Those you just can't put down even though they cause your heart to beat just a bit faster, or sweat pop out on your forehead, or cause hope to rise inside you, as the author gives life to the book? Those books you can't bear to put down at the end? Those books that stay in your head forever? You know the ones I'm talking about. Right? It's the ones that get better and better with every chapter read. Now compare...

As always, here you will find me...in Mary's World

Things I Can Depend On

Every morning, right about 7:43, the sun peeks through my study window on its way upward. At least during this time of the year. I reach up to shutter the window so I can see without shielding my eyes. The sun is dependable. 

There are many things we take for granted as being dependable. Like, I will go to work tomorrow at precisely (fill in the blank). I will see my family this coming (fill in the blank). I will go to the grocery store tomorrow after lunch. I will go to the mountains next month when the leaves are beginning to show their beauty. Next summer, I will make plans to go with my family to the beach. So much of our lives, and what it will look like, we take for granted. We form habits and become "dependable". That's a good thing. Right? Sure it is. But my point is the things we take for granted, aren't necessarily dependable. Why do I say that? Because none of us knows what tomorrow holds for us. Actually, we don't REALLY know what the next hour holds for us. Sounds kinda gloomy, doesn't it? It's not intended to...

James 4:13-16 says:

“Look here, you who say, “Today or tomorrow we are going to a certain town and will stay there a year. We will do business there and make a profit.” How do you know what your life will be like tomorrow? Your life is like the morning fog—it’s here a little while, then it’s gone. What you ought to say is, “If the Lord wants us to, we will live and do this or that.” Otherwise you are boasting about your own pretentious plans, and all such boasting is evil” (NLT).

Even though this life is uncertain, and even though one might think once this life is done, it's done, there is a life that is eternal. Yours and mine. We were created to be eternal beings. Natural death entered because of not heeding the warning of God. Not because he was/is a demanding being. But because He wanted us to have a choice, not demanding we love him as he loved us. But because we choose to. And because of that, there needed to be a choice of right and wrong, of life and death, of fullness and emptiness. Choices. Thus, the Tree of the knowledge of good and evil was placed in the Garden of Eden, where Gods council (the Elohim) met. We were not to eat from that tree lest we live eternally in our choice. We get to choose our life's path. Which is an awesome gift in itself! Yes?

It's sad so many of us blame God for the evil in this world. When in fact it only comes from a persons choices. No one is excluded. Life continues after this earthly death, and since this life is so uncertain, doesn't it make sense to begin storing up for the next life? The life we step into after this earthly life, will depend on what we did with this one. Today, it appears I will be heading to work soon, a platform God has given to provide and to serve. 

Things I can depend on? The sun coming up, an eventual "death" (I do think I'll be around for a bit, though 😁), my family's love for me, and God's love for me. For the world He created. And those in it. 

As always (if God so chooses), here you will find me...in Mary's (loaned by God) World. That I (mostly) take for granted.

Gonna open the shutters now that the sun has moved on up. 😉😁

Religion verses Christianity

 

A few days ago, I had an interesting conversation with a dear client. She had met someone that is a really great guy. Or so it seemed, from just having a couple of outings with him. Very polite, very attentive to her needs. Great conversationalist, take charge kinda guy, not putting all decision making on her. She really liked him. But, here's the kicker. After their second date, she decides he and she are not a good match, because he's too "religious". He talks about the Bible a bit too much, making her feel like he wants her to know how knowledgable he is, yet never trying to push his "religion" on her. She never felt judged, but she hadn't (at this point), talked much about her own lifestyle. Something about him just made her uncomfortable to continue the relationship. She was put off. A red flag went up in her thinking. I knew why.

It is such a common conversation inside my salon. Most times when anyone speaks about a Christian, it's always in the terms of a very "religious" person. You, too, must have witnessed the automatic withdrawal from religion at some point in your life, if you are a Christ follower. It's as if it is a plague to run from, as an almost visible slab of concrete instantly forms a barrier to all sound coming from the perceived "religious" person.

Why is that? Because "religious" people crush people with unbearable demands and never lift a finger to ease any burden. Everything they do is for show. Read about it in Matthew 23 (NLT)

Now...can you see why religion comes off as a dirty word? It's troubling to me that Christians sometimes have a reputation for being divisive and exclusive. Though we live among others who may not share our beliefs and values, we have the clear example of Jesus, who found acceptance among physical and moral outcasts as well as despised minorities and Roman officers. Somehow he moved compliantly among diverse groups without compromising his good-news message of love and forgiveness.

I've been reading a book about the human body and all it is made up of. What a great, insightful book! Let me give you an example of the human body as it creates an example of the spiritual body. Did you know the hand has the ability to mold itself around an object it grasps? I'd be willing to bet you never, ever considered this. Underneath the skin of the hand is globules of fat with the look and consistency of tapioca pudding. So soft as to be almost fluid, fat globules cannot hold their own shape, and so they are surrounded by interwoven fibrils of collagen, like balloons caught in a rope net. The hands receive a lot of stress, but because of being tightly sheathed by fibrous tissue (much like fine Belgian lace), they will mold themselves around the stress causing points. The clusters of fat cells change their shape in response to the pressure. The fat yields, yet cannot be pushed aside because of the firm collagen fibers around it. The tissue constantly shifts, and becomes compliant, as it fits the shape of whatever is causing it stress. Whether the shape is hard, or soft, the fat and collagen redistribute themselves and assume a shape to comply with the object being grasped, preventing localized spots of high pressure. The hand doesn't demand the object to conform to the shape of the hand; the hand adapts, distributing the pressure. (Information from Fearlessly and Wonderfully Made). Don't you find that simply amazing?!

How does this relate to Christian living? Glad you asked! Just as our human hand complies to whatever it is holding, awkward or smooth, so should I not demand others to realign their ways to mine. I should be willing to step into their world and see as they see, without compromising my own beliefs. Just as Jesus did. People often misquote the Holy Scriptures. Yes, Jesus sat with the sinners, yet he was without sin. Acceptance of all. Disgraced by none.

One last thought:

The apostle Paul says, in I Corinthians 9, as paraphrased in The Message: "Even though I am free of the demands and expectations of everyone, I have voluntarily become a servant to any and all in order to reach a wide range of people; religious, nonreligious, meticulous moralists, loose-living immoralists, the defeated, the demoralized -- whoever. I didn't take on their way of life. I kept my bearings in Christ -- but I entered their world and tried to experience things from their point of view."

If you seek, you will find me...here, in Mary's World

P.S. Find all my ramblings & musings; sometimes serious, sometimes hilarious by searching for www.marysworldmiami.blogspot.com

 

Broken, or Just Wounded?

Today's Reasoning:

It's been a night of unrest for me. Waking at 2:22 AM, for the second day now, is messing with my soul (and body). It's been a long while since my mind has been in a fast forward motion, carrying around all the pain and anxious feelings I encounter. Feels a bit like a rewind of years gone by. But here's the thing...
God never promised us a life of continual happiness and smooth sailing. In the reality of humanity, we must face storms to understand our imperfections, the flawed nature of who we are, and to realize just how much we need a savior, as we give in, exposing what is truly in our hearts. Things we didn't know we could feel any longer, come pouring out of our inner most being and like a blanket of acid, fall down upon the ones we claim to love the most.

Forceful words, coupled with an action, will tear at the inner fiber of who we are. Rejection steals the best of who we are by reinforcing the worst of what's been said to us. Do our words define us? I think so. It must first be in our heart, our mind, before it comes out of the mouth (Matthew 12:34). If this is true, then our actions define us, as well. At least in part...

We can't offer a simple "I'm sorry. I didn't mean any of that," without first allowing a good hard look inside ourselves. What is at the root of this defensive monster who wants control at all cost? And what will be the breaking point of allowing those defenses to control our action(s)?

Simply put, brokenness can't provide stability. We are all desperate to anchor our souls to something we can trust won't change, and we continue to look for it, until we don't. Feelings of "I don't matter. I am worth nothing to (fill in the blank). "And if all this is true, it's possible that even God doesn't love me, and wants nothing to do with me." It's like we have climbed the ladder to a tall slide, ready to descend into a very dark abyss. Then...then, we find a hiding place and become silent, because we are unwanted. Until we have a visitor...

The visitor? The only One who can save a darkened soul, a hardened heart, that has become a defeated cluster of cells that still breathe, regardless of the weight of anxious thoughts. A heart that still flickers, but was once a flame, is where God shows up. In the quiet stillness of the human heart, God speaks life. Because it is His creation, and He won't stop until the heart He prepared for himself realizes it is truly, wholly, loved (Colossians 3:12). Regardless of what it must face. BECAUSE of what it must face.

One last thought: Feelings are like broken support beams that will expose insecurity needing stabilized. Only truth is solid, unchanging, and completely stable. Today, God is reminding me He will never leave me to wallow in self pity, licking my wounds. He understands me. He knows my whys and my insecurities. He has walked beside me since the day He instructed my cells to form and complete the necessary work of becoming more like Him. The question we must always ask ourselves? Do we really trust God to anchor us? To stabilize us? I think we'll find our answers in Psalm 8.

As always, here you'll find me...in Mary's World

Truth or Consequences

Last Saturday, I had a 7 year old client tell me, "You're not that good." As one can imagine, I stopped what I was doing and looked him square in the eye. It's as if I'd just walked into an unseen wall. "What?! Don't you like the cut I just gave you?" "I've seen better," he replied. He's SEVEN YEARS OLD, and he's "seen better." He now had my full attention. This little guy has always been very engaging and somewhat fun to talk with. I do love little ones. Well....most of them. The respectful ones, to be specific. But truth has always been my ally, my solid place, my grounding. And up to a certain age, kids are always transparent. Truthful. I soothed myself with the fact he hasn't seen ALL my work. So, being the adult I am, I pointed it out to him. Showed him some of my work. He wasn't impressed.

Truth be told, I have been keenly aware (of late), to everything that crosses my path. So this moment in time was no different. I'm on a mission to see my way forward from where I find myself to be. To not be caught off guard when the inevitable happens. To actually walk with wisdom and yes, a bit of pride, as this season of life unfolds. To be clear, a 7 year old is only a small piece of this tapestry me and God are creating. An important piece, however small. Every piece matters. Right?

In the 47+ years I have been working in this industry (minus a couple of sabbaticals), I have never heard these words. Not to my face, at least. Now I am wondering if they have truly been spoken, just without my knowledge. And so I must examine my expertise and see where I want to go with this new found knowledge. Do I just tuck it away in my toolbox of unimportant things? Or do I hang it on my wall so it's the first thing I see every morning? To what purpose will that guide me? "Never stop learning" has always been a motto for my life. Yet, are there unmistakable signs we can ignore?

It was only a few days ago (maybe last week) that I was talking with one of our daughters, saying, "Why can't God just make it evident what He is trying to say to us? Instead of making us 'read' all the signs and try figuring out if this is Him getting our attention about something we have been asking for, or just me reaching too far for something. For anything." I'm not sure He could get any clearer than having a truth led 7 year old, speak the words out loud. Now my dilemma is, what am I going to do with it? Will I say, "But I'm not ready for this." Or, "Okay, I have a couple of choices here."

My attention has been gotten. 

As always, here you'll find me...in Mary's World

The Next Leg of My Journey

Three quarters of a century. 😳

I can remember when I thought 40 years was a long time to have lived, and now I am looking 75 in the face, in just a couple of weeks. Knowing that many don't want to (or won't) acknowledge their years, kind of throws me. I think I know the reasoning behind it, but really??? For real, why???

I take a lot of pleasure in knowing how far I have come, and the fact I am still waking up with strength and breath in my body. There is much of my childhood that I don't remember, and enough of it that I wouldn't want to go back there. Don't get me wrong. I appreciate all the training I had as a child. All the strength I gained from the morals and high standards we were exposed to and required to hold. And because of it, I have never thought of work as something to hate, or dread. Monday's have never resonated any differently than the other days in the week. It was just another day to be thankful for. Another day to believe in what our hands were given to do as a substantial means of providing for ourselves. Work was, and is, a blessing from God to us. We could always lay our heads down on a pillow at night and be grateful for another day of work. Tired, yes. But also satisfied. So, it isn't because of this reality that I would never want to go back. I love that part of my upbringing. I believe in myself because of it. Most of the time, anyway. AND, I know how to survive in a world without it giving me anything I haven't worked for. Nor do I expect our government to pay for any of my decisions that cost money.

There was a turning point in my adult life, that I realized the years were slipping away. It was in my early to mid 40's. I will never forget walking past a mirror, and then stepping back to take another look. "Who in the world is that?" I asked. It was as if I had gone to bed the night before and woke up a completely different person. Physically. It was only a few weeks beyond that day that I put up a picture of my graduation from Miami Beauty College. Yep. That's the pic you are now looking at. That was me in 1974. THAT is who I was. Who I am. Those are the years that resonate with me the most. It took me many a year to come to grips with the changes that were happening. Those were the early years of finally realizing I was becoming who I was suppose to be. Not as a hair designer. Just as a human being, having been knitted together in my mother's womb to become someone that reflected the goodness of God. I have failed (miserably at times) in that, as a young (possibly overworked) mom. But I did have some winning moments, and grace was extended to me as I walked daily in blessings I didn't really deserve, but am so grateful for. And that's another story...

The Voyage of Life is a series of four paintings created by Thomas Cole in 1842, representing an allegory of the four stages of human life. The paintings are of Childhood, Youth, Manhood, and Old Age, depicting a voyager who travels in a boat on a river through the mid-19th-century American wilderness. Copies of these paintings hang on my entry wall. I have loved them ever since I came across them as a young homeschool educating mom. A few years before moving to North Carolina, our oldest daughter purchased them for me and I wasn't about to leave them behind. They speak to me.

So, if I were to point to the picture that best identifies the place I am in my personal journey, today, it would be the last of the four. That's not to say I think my life is over and I am on my last leg. Oh no. It's only just begun, in many ways. Okay. In SOME ways.

And now? Well, I'm not quite sure where I'm heading. I only know it is a different season in my life and where it will take me is still a bit obscure. But I'm ready to find out. Mostly...

When I know, you'll know. Until then, here I'll remain...in Mary's World.

When Our Vision Becomes Blurred

Have you ever been sick? I mean, reallllyyy sick?! Sick enough your thoughts play tag inside your brain trying to convince you you just might not come out of this one?

Well, I was that sick a couple of weeks ago. Five days without food, and with only very small sips of water to make sure I didn't shrivel up and cease to breathe. I mean, I guess it was time. It's been long enough that I can't recall the last time I was actually sick. But this one was the granddaddy of all stomach viruses.

I was kind of excited (once I found out I would indeed live to see another day), to get on the scales and see how much of this excess weight (I'm gonna blame on the pandemic) I have collected around my waist, had dropped off. It felt like maybe 10 pounds. Surely 5!!! I felt so skinny!!! After a refreshing hot shower and hair washed and conditioned, I stepped on my trusty scales, naked as the day I was born. I close my eyes as I step up and balance myself. Is it 5? 10??? Slowly opening one eye at a time, I peer downward, adjust my glasses, preparing just how I would celebrate. ONE FREAKING POUND???!!! HOW is that even POSSIBLE??? Five days with no food (well there was that couple of nibbles on a half piece of dried toast), and yet nothing had changed in the dynamics of body weight. As a side note: Dennis drinks 6 sodas in one week (instead of his usual 7) and drops 15 pounds. Not fair.

Anyway, this story is about blurry vision. It's pretty amazing how our vision is affected when faced with life altering events such as not being able to walk 2 steps without collapsing from having no strength to motor through. Thus, the trash can remains next to our bed. Not even going to elaborate on that one.

As I lay, hour after excruciating hour, afraid to move in any direction, my mind begins the gymnastics. "Aren't you even a little bit concerned about how your chest has hurt for the last week?" "You know that pressure doesn't feel normal." "And now your stomach lining has expelled itself so you probably won't be able to eat ever again." "So...what if you died in your sleep tonight?" "If you actually pull through this, you should seriously consider writing those letters to your girls you've been thinking about doing, cause, well...you know." "That headache could be something too, right?" "You really shouldn't be working anymore, either. Just face the facts, Mary." "If you only had a week left to live, what would you want to be using that time for? Work? I thought not..." "Not sure you're going have to worry about any of that, though." "Do you think your grand daughters will even remember you after a year or so?"

Blurry vision is a beast. 

Reality becomes obscure, at best, and end of life plans begin. Good grief!!! And this is why I always say it would take a genius to figure out why the sparks that flitter around inside my brain are so easily side tracked and colorful.

Also, it's amazing how one is ready to tackle the world again, once vision is corrected. Once the marvelous body we've been using as our home, is whole again, sight is also restored. I think there were moments I knew I would surely pull through this, but for the most part, when my body was idle, my thoughts were not. Quite the opposite...

Those letters have STILL yet to be written, but here I remain...in Mary's World.

A Tiger's Stripes

 

It's been said that a tiger can't change its stripes. You've probably heard that, right? And as true a statement as that may be, what it refers to, in my opinion, CAN be changed.

Many situations we find ourselves to be in, as we grow up and continue to mature, causes a lot of poor choices in many of us. We blame the situations and not our responses to the situations. Simply because all we know how to focus on is our own preservation. We have a multitude of emotions that rise to the surface and we just go with it as we ourselves, plummet, seemingly unable to breathe on our own.

For some, it takes years to find understanding and come to realize that as an innocent, we became caught in the not-so-innocent actions of others. We finally find freedom, but the memories just won't leave us alone. They come as flash-backs and terrors, as fear becomes a constant companion. We receive gifts in the mail, phone messages, & visits to cities near us where we are urged to meet up for another chance at life in the dungeon. Our bodies may be free, but it takes time for our minds to be free. At least it did mine.

Some would say, "Why did God allow all that to happen to you?" Oh, it wasn't His choice for me. There's this thing called free will that God initiated from the beginning of human kind. Yet, while in this very dark abyss, He covered me, protecting when I wasn't even aware. When my mind takes me back there, it is clear He was with me all along, and it is with extreme gratitude He loved me in spite of where my feet had taken me.

Many are the stories I could tell of how the One who rescues us, rescued me, and set my feet on solid ground where I could feel a love like I had never known. Yet, this amazing brain we were created with has the ability to store all of life's memories. The good, the bad, the ugly. Truly. Yet, as we totally surrender our rights to ourselves, a way is made for us where there seems to be no way. When my memory takes me back, I don't relive it, I just stand in awe of it. In awe of all the ways that should have destroyed me, yet God had other plans and said, "No."

Signing out, I want to say that whether we know it or not, God knows how to get our attention. He knows what it will take for us to search for Him. Like getting to the end of hope. And there He waits for us to arrive, so that He may show us how to change our stripes. Even if it's just to make them more colorful.

Always looking for change, here you'll find me...in Mary's World.

My Journey Among the Unseen

I had an interesting conversation at work today. It stirred something inside of me & has prodded me out of my recluse world of "hiding" from certain Biblical views since arriving in NC. Entering a new phase of life, I began to focus on putting pieces of the past behind me. "Moving forward" as they say. That's not always a good idea...

My client reminded me of a younger me. Looking for answers because I had no understanding of God's love. It was as if the eyes of my heart had been closed to any kind of scripture interpretation. For good reason.

On January 12th, of this year, I woke from a dream of a white horse running towards me and into the edge of the ocean. The horse stopped there and focused on me. I was invisible to myself, but was fully aware this horse was sending me a message. I'm just not sure of what that message was. I did know this beauty had my attention.

The next morning, on January 13th, after rising & washing my face, I went into my study (as is my custom), sat down and immediately heard the words, "Hear me" as if they had been very clearly whispered in my ear.

Since that day I have been making my way back to studying the Word and it has led me to some interesting thoughts.

Would you agree that Bible facts are just pieces...bits of scattered data, just begging us to put them in order? In some instances, it's much like a puzzle, waiting to be pieced together. Yet, anyone not serious about its contents, will give up because they tire of the puzzle and the time it takes to understand just a fraction of one entry.

May I submit to you that we gain perspective that is both broader and deeper if we allow ourselves to see the pieces in their own wider context instead of seeing them through a filter of presumption or tradition. We need to see the mosaic created by its pieces. It is when we begin to view the completed mosaic that we find the meaning of all the scattered pieces. The pieces that make up the whole.

Now, try to understand Psalm 82 without filters. Psalm 82 has at its core the unseen realm and its interaction with the human world. This intersection of our domain and the unseen world includes the triune God, along with a much more numerous cast.

Anyone spending serious time in Scripture, know of many odd passages, curious phrases, troubling paradoxes, connections within and between the testaments that can't be coincidental. And so, I begin my journey, once again, of peering into the unseen realm. It's a journey I never should have set aside.

And now you see pieces of me just a little more than before.

Recovery in progress, here...in Mary's World

The Importance of Story Time

Every chance I get, I will encourage a person to tell me about their growing up years and how they got to where they are now. I love ALL the in-between stuff!!! The good, the bad, the ugly. I just love being a part of others lives, and story telling creates a bond we might not have otherwise shared. But the most interesting stories come from those that have lived well beyond my years. It is the one time I can sit for hours with no regret.

Why do the older generation love telling stories about their past? I can only speak for myself, but will bet most feel the same as I. It's the ability to recall and reflect that helps me remember who I used to be, and in turn, helps me identify who I am in the current moment. The (hopefully) improved upon me. It's like the groundwork of beautiful things to come that have been through the storms of life and still survived. No, thrived!

I keep a picture of myself that was taken upon graduating from Miami Beauty College. The year was 1974. By that time, I had already experienced enough pain for a lifetime. Or at least I had thought so. There was just something about the time spent learning a trade that would sustain me, that makes me want to hold onto that picture. It was a happy time in my life. One without having to fear unwarranted death at the hands of a very dysfunctional jealous man. So, I keep the picture to remind me of who I truly am. Many times, as I walked by the picture, I would verbally say, "Oh hi! There you are!" It also helped as the years flew by, and my appearance changed, to remember how I looked when my life actually re-started. The year I loved who I had become. The year I released all of who I was to the One who loves me most. The year I released my rights to myself and asked God to stay close and direct my life while here on planet Earth. The most freedom I had experienced up to that time.

But the stories!!! The stories of my past provide a source of affirmation, hope, and belief that my legacy (in spite of the challenges) has a better chance of preservation. I like to weed out the not-so-good past when telling stories to our off-spring, and jump right on into the years beyond 1974. However, they HAVE heard some things I probably shouldn't have shared. Still, the stories told have only skimmed the top of what I have experienced in these years lived. Look at that '80's HAIR, will ya! 😁➡️

Now if you can connect me with someone from the Baby Boomer Era, no holds barred! 😂 Rarely is anything left out as we discuss line upon line of years past. Unless the memories are just too painful to recall. Some are, rightly so, personal. We'll then save it for another day. Maybe. Depends...

Back to 2022...I was awake last evening when Dennis called it a night and came to bed. I tried sleeping, but sleep wouldn't favor me with its presence. So I got up (10:30 P.M.) and decided to have a late night snack. Never a good idea. But it was tasty. I was in my study, reading through many of my blog posts since 2010. Why I chose to do that, I really have no idea. It just popped into my head and I thought it might be a good idea. It might make me sleepy. Nope! Hey, there's some really good stuff in there, and I actually enjoyed reminiscing the moments I had sat at my computer and typed them out. I would start to read one and would always say, "Oh, I remember this one!" I finally gave up when my eyes began to burn, but still, I was not sleepy. It was 2:35 A.M., and I was invested. But I really needed to get some shut eye.

If any of you who might be reading this, and have gotten this far, you are very familiar with my ramblings. I start at one point and move into various others as they spark their way across the neurons in my brain. Until no one really knows the point I was trying to make in the first place. Roping me in is like trying to give a cat a bath. Hard to do and can be a bit dangerous. See? Don't really know where that statement was intended to go.  

STORY TIME!!! Oh yeah! The blog posts were reminding me of my story! And I'm pretty sure this one was birthed out of sleep deprivation. 

FROM there to here...

⬅️     to     ➡️

AND SO MUCH IN-BETWEEN 

for another time

P.S.

Until next time, here you'll find me...in Mary's World

The Winds of Change

Have you ever felt as if the winds of change have begun to blow? Change is inevitable. Yes? But, has there ever been a time when all your senses have been alerted to the inevitable? This is me. Now.

So much has changed in the last couple of years. Covid19 brought with it an undeniable NEED for change. We all (well, most of us), listened and followed protocol. But, that is not what I am talking about.

There are "seasons of life" that we all must walk through. Some train us. Some educate us. Some prepare us for challenges to come. Not many of us can see the future, or foretell it. But some of us CAN predict it, if our spiritual eyes and ears are open to understanding, and our common sense is well attended. We can "see where this is going" kinda thing. 

What we can't predict is how we will get there. We can plan for it. We can prepare for it. We just can't see how it will all play out. But at least we won't be surprised when it arrives. There may be a few surprises along the way, but hey! Last season prepared us for it! Right?

I'm pretty sure I have lost many of you, if not all. "Is she talking about herself, or just in general?" Or, "I think the winds have blown her off her rocker." 😉I, too, wonder that myself, on occasion. 😂

I used to worry some, about the fact that I was quickly coming upon the marker that my female siblings arrived at, and then left the planet. I have now officially passed the years any of them were able to live beyond. The winds that I love, when they visit me, have left me standing here. For the time, at least. And I know I am going to get some push-back from my girls for even talking about this. But it is a reality of life. We are born, we live, we die. This is not meant to be morbid, but real. And the sooner we face that fact, the sooner we can live our best lives while stationed here. I've finally accepted the fact that I am on God's timetable, and I'll go home when He says it's time. And no sooner...

When we face the fact that life is short, will it make a difference? Will we continue to live our lives focused on ourselves instead of those we love? Will we make different decisions, based not on how it makes us feel, but rather on how it makes them feel? Will we see each new day as an opportunity, or just another day to deal with difficulties? Will we begin to understand that humanity is broken, and possibly defeated, and begin to see with eyes of compassion instead of hatred?  

The Bible says there are 7 things that God hates, found in Proverbs 6:16-19

• Eyes that are haughty (arrogantly superior)
• A tongue that lies 
• Hands that shed the blood of innocent people
• Hearts which plot evil
• Feet that run to do evil things
• People who lie as witnesses
• One who causes strife in his or her family (ouch!)

Now that we know all this, will it better prepare us for seasonal changes? The winds that blow through the years we've been granted, will they whisper "change" to us?

Listening to the winds of change, here you'll find me...in Mary's World