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.