We put our palms together, hugged, laughed and sent blessings out the door. I felt like I had just experienced a little glimpse of heaven.
I did not know her until that day. She was one of the employees at the doctor's office. I had been back and forth from the waiting room to the various places you go when you get worked on. The nurse's station. The little patient room. The waiting room again. The bathroom. Waiting room. The lab. I felt like I had been there all day (maybe I had). Either way, she and I laughed as I tramped by her desk numerous times. I commented on her bling-y, marvelous eyeglasses and her scrumptious jewelry. Finally, I was done and headed out the door. She walked out beside me, to see what the weather was doing before she left for lunch. I was the only one left there. We talked about the sky. Then we talked about the beauty of God's amazing earth and the impossibility of it, which turned into more talk about His amazing grace. If we had had just a teench more time, we might have started shouting hallelujah, the thread of Christian sisterhood golden. We spoke of the difference in our races, then declared triumph between us of our one blood, our cousinhood reaching back to Adam. We agreed not to hate and to reach across. We got off the boat with Noah and stomped on the devil's head right then and there.
I know it's all a lot more complicated than we can imagine, and we've got a long way to go. But God's grace can get us where we need to go.
Monday, August 5, 2019
Red and Yellow, Black and White, They are Precious in His Sight
They say that one human body, with its cells and DNA and acres of systems intertwined, is more complex than the entire Milky Way. It's a grand mystery that we will never unravel as long as we're mortal. The word on the street, after the grand human genome project, is that we are all related to one woman. They call her "Mitochondrial Eve." I could've told them her name, just from what I learned as a child in Sunday School.
We grownups want to make everything complicated, when the truth rarely is. Our Bibles told us about our beginnings, about sin and redemption, about the heart of man and how scoundrels can get made right (hint: we're all scoundrels, you know). We airbrush silly arks with animals in them on nursery walls, but don't really consider that a flood might have actually happened. Check out Google Earth and note how the water trailed back into the oceans (or creation.com, where brainiacs explain that stuff).
Going back to the genome project, and our origins (no matter what you believe about the Bible)... it has become more than evident that we are all derived from the same gene pool. There are kinks and dips and variations in expression, but we are the human race. Many cultures, many tribes, many islands, but we are all of one blood. We got off the boat with Noah. There were eight, then there were billions. It didn't take too long. (They're trying to make everybody slow down and quit making so many of us). Today we face new challenges as technology brings our differences into the light and our prejudices into clearer focus. No longer can we hide in our protected corners and act like nothing's wrong. Old roots of bitterness have been growing quietly, seeping under the parched earth, looking for purchase.
As a Christian, and as I look to God's Word, I am just beginning to turn my untilled ground over. There's a plow pan there...hard places that resist the truth. Stiff beliefs that deny reality. Much as some would like to say the scriptures support oppression, the whole story shows that Christ came to set us free from ourselves and our bent towards murderous racism. The Word traces us back to our beginnings, to the facts of our blood. It doesn't varnish the heroes of scripture -- it shows us what they (and we) are: sinners in need of saving. People in need of love. That includes the skinny, fat, white, black, yellow, red, privileged, poor, rich, depraved ones all.
We grownups want to make everything complicated, when the truth rarely is. Our Bibles told us about our beginnings, about sin and redemption, about the heart of man and how scoundrels can get made right (hint: we're all scoundrels, you know). We airbrush silly arks with animals in them on nursery walls, but don't really consider that a flood might have actually happened. Check out Google Earth and note how the water trailed back into the oceans (or creation.com, where brainiacs explain that stuff).
Going back to the genome project, and our origins (no matter what you believe about the Bible)... it has become more than evident that we are all derived from the same gene pool. There are kinks and dips and variations in expression, but we are the human race. Many cultures, many tribes, many islands, but we are all of one blood. We got off the boat with Noah. There were eight, then there were billions. It didn't take too long. (They're trying to make everybody slow down and quit making so many of us). Today we face new challenges as technology brings our differences into the light and our prejudices into clearer focus. No longer can we hide in our protected corners and act like nothing's wrong. Old roots of bitterness have been growing quietly, seeping under the parched earth, looking for purchase.
As a Christian, and as I look to God's Word, I am just beginning to turn my untilled ground over. There's a plow pan there...hard places that resist the truth. Stiff beliefs that deny reality. Much as some would like to say the scriptures support oppression, the whole story shows that Christ came to set us free from ourselves and our bent towards murderous racism. The Word traces us back to our beginnings, to the facts of our blood. It doesn't varnish the heroes of scripture -- it shows us what they (and we) are: sinners in need of saving. People in need of love. That includes the skinny, fat, white, black, yellow, red, privileged, poor, rich, depraved ones all.
Tuesday, July 30, 2019
Sunshine on My Shoulders
When I was younger, I never gave much thought to what getting older would look like. I figured I'd never make it past Y2K, being 40 and all. That seemed ancient. My parents were youngsters when they had me, so I was done married and having babies before they got their first wrinkle.
I've been listening to YouTube videos about brain function (because I'd like to keep some of that) and aging. This week, I heard all sorts of theories and results from the virtues of Vitamin D. Did you know that it's not even a vitamin? It's a hormone or something like that. Either way, all these years, we've been hammered about wearing sunscreen. One of my doctors even told me to put it on me and my children every day in the winter. Now we are hearing that we are all D-deficient and that we need to get out in the sun. Once again, everybody on the planet should be doing most everything that old Dr. Leila Denmark told us to do. She was my children's first pediatrician and she lived to be 113 years old. I assumed it was because she had amazing genes, but it turns out her (many) siblings didn't live nearly that long. She advocated things like fresh air, feeding babies on a schedule, breastfeeding (even when it wasn't cool), and yes, putting your babies out in the sunshine. She told me to build a porch onto our house, screen it and to put my infants out there as much as I could. She also said that they should be out in the open sunshine at least 20 minutes a day, even in the winter. Another thing she advocated was to get off dairy completely, and that a weaned baby did not need milk. "We're not cows, why would we be drinking their milk?" That's what she said. She posited that if we got outside and got all that good Vitamin D, it would muster up the calcium in the food we eat and that nobody needed milk. Some people thought she was crazy. She once told me, when I whined about my baby fat, that I needed to go out in the yard in the morning, dig a hole, then fill it up (all to say that I needed to break a sweat in the morning). Then I was supposed to never snack, and eat only one carbohydrate per meal. Get out in the sun. Drink water, not tea or milk. Be happy.
I got the "be happy" part right, but hardly anything else. I shoulda listened to her. Then I could be jolly and pain-free all at the same time.
I've been listening to YouTube videos about brain function (because I'd like to keep some of that) and aging. This week, I heard all sorts of theories and results from the virtues of Vitamin D. Did you know that it's not even a vitamin? It's a hormone or something like that. Either way, all these years, we've been hammered about wearing sunscreen. One of my doctors even told me to put it on me and my children every day in the winter. Now we are hearing that we are all D-deficient and that we need to get out in the sun. Once again, everybody on the planet should be doing most everything that old Dr. Leila Denmark told us to do. She was my children's first pediatrician and she lived to be 113 years old. I assumed it was because she had amazing genes, but it turns out her (many) siblings didn't live nearly that long. She advocated things like fresh air, feeding babies on a schedule, breastfeeding (even when it wasn't cool), and yes, putting your babies out in the sunshine. She told me to build a porch onto our house, screen it and to put my infants out there as much as I could. She also said that they should be out in the open sunshine at least 20 minutes a day, even in the winter. Another thing she advocated was to get off dairy completely, and that a weaned baby did not need milk. "We're not cows, why would we be drinking their milk?" That's what she said. She posited that if we got outside and got all that good Vitamin D, it would muster up the calcium in the food we eat and that nobody needed milk. Some people thought she was crazy. She once told me, when I whined about my baby fat, that I needed to go out in the yard in the morning, dig a hole, then fill it up (all to say that I needed to break a sweat in the morning). Then I was supposed to never snack, and eat only one carbohydrate per meal. Get out in the sun. Drink water, not tea or milk. Be happy.
I got the "be happy" part right, but hardly anything else. I shoulda listened to her. Then I could be jolly and pain-free all at the same time.
Monday, July 22, 2019
The Trials of Rhinos, Human and Otherwise
Good night a-livin'... I've been thinking all day about how imperfect the world is. Whoever came up with that "Murphy's Law" makes me want to laugh. Surely they had a video of my life when they came up with that. If I drop my phone, it's most definitely wobbling its way underneath my car at the gas station. And not close to the edge, but pert-near to the middle and of course I have on a skirt. I don't even fit under there and of course forgot to bring my shepherd's hook. This is the way of it. The whole universe is catty-wampus.
God made it all perfect in the beginning, then Eve decided to eat something she wasn't supposed to. Mama shoulda named me Eve, apparently. I'm trying, I really am, but there are sugar plum fairies on the corner and Sprinkles Donuts is on the way to everywhere. Believe it or not, I was able to get through one day (today) without one drop of sugar. Let's make it two days tomorrow. Don't get excited, I'm not going to the gym yet. One thing at a time. I told Pa last week that I was starting Monday, so we had to eat up everything in the house that had sugar in it by Sunday night. Yeehaw, it's all gone now. I think I gained four pounds in the process. That'll only take a month to remove.
There are all these tests you can do on the internet, about what kind of body type you are (Mesomorph, Ectomorph, Endomorph -- morph being the operative word here. I apparently need to morph into something other than what I'm currently rocking), what kind of Ayurvedic body you have (Vata, Pitta, Kasha -- I am kind of in the Pittabout my body, and I thought Kasha was some kind of cereal), or if you have an apple, pear or banana-shaped body (really?). There are all these rules about what, when, how much, how often...and then a new set of rules about maybe not eating at all, sometimes for days in a row. And if you do that, you have to add salt and magnesium to your delicious drinking water, in case your electrolytes get whack. Half of us are as fat as Rhinoceros. They eat lily pads and pond scum. What hope do we have? Meanwhile, I'm doing this exercise of envisioning my 10-year-old self, where I was lithe and free, skipping about the pasture like a colt. What happened to her? I liked her a lot and she didn't have to think about all these things. That was the 1970s where everybody was skinny except that one lady at church (it's her glands, honey)... and the word is that something mysterious happened in the 80s and we all got fat. The only mystery I experienced was that I got distracted having four kids in rapid succession and ate a whole lot of Nutty Bars.
I think that the answer to this is that Pa needs to buy me a swimming hole to put in the backyard. I really think that's it. Then if they would just shut down that Sprinkles place...
God made it all perfect in the beginning, then Eve decided to eat something she wasn't supposed to. Mama shoulda named me Eve, apparently. I'm trying, I really am, but there are sugar plum fairies on the corner and Sprinkles Donuts is on the way to everywhere. Believe it or not, I was able to get through one day (today) without one drop of sugar. Let's make it two days tomorrow. Don't get excited, I'm not going to the gym yet. One thing at a time. I told Pa last week that I was starting Monday, so we had to eat up everything in the house that had sugar in it by Sunday night. Yeehaw, it's all gone now. I think I gained four pounds in the process. That'll only take a month to remove.
There are all these tests you can do on the internet, about what kind of body type you are (Mesomorph, Ectomorph, Endomorph -- morph being the operative word here. I apparently need to morph into something other than what I'm currently rocking), what kind of Ayurvedic body you have (Vata, Pitta, Kasha -- I am kind of in the Pittabout my body, and I thought Kasha was some kind of cereal), or if you have an apple, pear or banana-shaped body (really?). There are all these rules about what, when, how much, how often...and then a new set of rules about maybe not eating at all, sometimes for days in a row. And if you do that, you have to add salt and magnesium to your delicious drinking water, in case your electrolytes get whack. Half of us are as fat as Rhinoceros. They eat lily pads and pond scum. What hope do we have? Meanwhile, I'm doing this exercise of envisioning my 10-year-old self, where I was lithe and free, skipping about the pasture like a colt. What happened to her? I liked her a lot and she didn't have to think about all these things. That was the 1970s where everybody was skinny except that one lady at church (it's her glands, honey)... and the word is that something mysterious happened in the 80s and we all got fat. The only mystery I experienced was that I got distracted having four kids in rapid succession and ate a whole lot of Nutty Bars.
I think that the answer to this is that Pa needs to buy me a swimming hole to put in the backyard. I really think that's it. Then if they would just shut down that Sprinkles place...
Courts of All Kinds
I made a mistake. A call, an email, a conversation that was mixed up and forgotten in a maelstrom of a too-busy season. Some time had gone by. I didn't look back; I just answered a new phone call and treated it like it was today's news. I missed an important detail from the past. When I became aware of my error, I made apologies, backtracked, asked forgiveness, thought I made it right. It was a small oversight, so I thought.
But tomorrow I sit across a table, in a court of law, with an accuser. An accuser who doesn't believe my mistake was honest. An accuser who somehow thought I was colluding against them to strip them of something -- their money, their rights, their time. It doesn't make sense to me. I was doing my job, fixed my mistake (I thought), and wished to finish what was started. This accuser does not know me. I do not have the luxury of grace or the intimacy of friendship that would smooth her troubled waters. Truth is, I just happened to be in the way when the storm hit.
I've done estate work in real estate for several years now. I feel the deep pain and trials of my clients. There are family feuds that come to roost, bitterness and old offenses that tend to rise to the surface. When the deaths are sudden or unexpected, or if there is any money to be shared, it often becomes dicey. Every possible bad thing rises to the surface, and tomorrow I have to pay witness to that.
My heart breaks for her. She lost her Mama, suddenly and too young, in an accident. Her mother's things still reside in the house in question, molding, bearing mute testimony to a life lost. Our lives, our things, our stuff...they're temporary, but we don't believe it. It's hard to believe there's an eternity, when all we can see is the chasm that yawns before us. We reach, we grasp, but find air. Are all the things true that we've been taught? Do we believe them and can we trust the wisdom of the ages? Our faith, the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen... These are the things that test our mettle, that rock our worlds, that separate the chaff from the wheat. When we are laid bare, what stands between us, between the furnaces of hell and the bliss of heaven? Is it my goodness or my good intentions? If my little mistakes require court, then what about the big, unfixable, irretrievable ones? The ones that drag their hooks into the earth, into my people.
There was one who came, perfect, God and man at once. My sin and my sins, big, small, indifferent, were laid on him at the cross. It is a simple truth, so simple that we often don't believe it. We are too complex, too sophisticated, too proud. I believe, in the end, what sends one to hell isn't lying, stealing, cheating, murder....but it is that bowed-up back of pride that says, "I will not surrender to Thee. I will be God." The way is narrow, and few there be that find it.
But tomorrow I sit across a table, in a court of law, with an accuser. An accuser who doesn't believe my mistake was honest. An accuser who somehow thought I was colluding against them to strip them of something -- their money, their rights, their time. It doesn't make sense to me. I was doing my job, fixed my mistake (I thought), and wished to finish what was started. This accuser does not know me. I do not have the luxury of grace or the intimacy of friendship that would smooth her troubled waters. Truth is, I just happened to be in the way when the storm hit.
I've done estate work in real estate for several years now. I feel the deep pain and trials of my clients. There are family feuds that come to roost, bitterness and old offenses that tend to rise to the surface. When the deaths are sudden or unexpected, or if there is any money to be shared, it often becomes dicey. Every possible bad thing rises to the surface, and tomorrow I have to pay witness to that.
My heart breaks for her. She lost her Mama, suddenly and too young, in an accident. Her mother's things still reside in the house in question, molding, bearing mute testimony to a life lost. Our lives, our things, our stuff...they're temporary, but we don't believe it. It's hard to believe there's an eternity, when all we can see is the chasm that yawns before us. We reach, we grasp, but find air. Are all the things true that we've been taught? Do we believe them and can we trust the wisdom of the ages? Our faith, the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen... These are the things that test our mettle, that rock our worlds, that separate the chaff from the wheat. When we are laid bare, what stands between us, between the furnaces of hell and the bliss of heaven? Is it my goodness or my good intentions? If my little mistakes require court, then what about the big, unfixable, irretrievable ones? The ones that drag their hooks into the earth, into my people.
There was one who came, perfect, God and man at once. My sin and my sins, big, small, indifferent, were laid on him at the cross. It is a simple truth, so simple that we often don't believe it. We are too complex, too sophisticated, too proud. I believe, in the end, what sends one to hell isn't lying, stealing, cheating, murder....but it is that bowed-up back of pride that says, "I will not surrender to Thee. I will be God." The way is narrow, and few there be that find it.
Monday, July 15, 2019
Sweet Summer Time
Sometimes you just need to remember who you were. Life can get way too serious, us being all responsible and grave about our jobs, the future, our cholesterol. I bought some party lights two years ago, dreaming about them being all strung up on my front porch. Somebody told me they'd look tacky. Somebody else said they belonged on the back porch. Well, this last week, me and daughter Liz got everything on that porch pulled off, cleaned, laundered, scrubbed and painted. While all the furniture was languishing in the front yard, looking only slightly tacky, we hung the lights. They'd been waiting patiently in their boxes for their first soiree. Liz stood up on the railing and moved them ten times before we got it right. We danced to Jack Johnson on the iPhone speakers and laughed like kids. Then we got the pond pump cleaned out, filled up all the fountains and turned everything on. When Papa got home, we all sat out there like buzzed puppies, so excited about it. It's really taken some years to get that porch to where I wanted it, but now it's perfect. Southern Living ain't got nothing on us. Think of it, somebody ought to call them on over.
On another kid note, for Pa's birthday this year, I bought him a used golf cart. It's so cute, and after we got the kinks out, we took her for a whirl tonight. (I'm saying "her." Papa named her Maggie, since we live on Magnolia Street, our house is named "Magnolia Rose" and she needed a name.) We swung down to that new little restaurant, "Roosters" in Villa Rica, ate some yummy comfort food, and then took a tour in our buggy. We cackled and it felt like we were doing something naughty, taking a golf cart to the city streets. The wind kicked through our hair and we saw stuff we had never noticed before.
Life is short. Find a way to giggle.
On another kid note, for Pa's birthday this year, I bought him a used golf cart. It's so cute, and after we got the kinks out, we took her for a whirl tonight. (I'm saying "her." Papa named her Maggie, since we live on Magnolia Street, our house is named "Magnolia Rose" and she needed a name.) We swung down to that new little restaurant, "Roosters" in Villa Rica, ate some yummy comfort food, and then took a tour in our buggy. We cackled and it felt like we were doing something naughty, taking a golf cart to the city streets. The wind kicked through our hair and we saw stuff we had never noticed before.
Life is short. Find a way to giggle.
Sunday, June 30, 2019
Party in the Garden
I can't help but romanticize my childhood. Back then, when school was out for ages and ages. Memorial Day was the first hoopla then after Labor Day we were gettin' back to it. The goody in between was lazy like syrup. Fireflies, dusky evenings, Sunday night church. Hand-cranked peach ice cream, Mama putting up dill pickles and tomatoes from the garden. Daddy sweating up a storm with us alternately playing and helping him in the yard.
July in the South is when the Devil comes down to Georgia. We have air conditioning in the house, the car, the store, heck even Six Flags has it outside while you're waiting in line for the roller coasters. But if you wait until the sun is tipping back over the trees, there comes a sweetness in the balmy breeze. Makes me remember what it was like to do cartwheels.
We're going to have a shindig here in Villa Rica, come July 20th from 6:00 to 8:00 (in the evening, don't be waking me up). Rain date is July 27. It's being called the "Art in the Garden" Tour. You can find the link on Facebook under the Villa Rica Arts Coalition page. The tour begins at 7i1 Magnolia Street. Tickets before July 4 are only $5. After July 4, they are only $10! They can be purchased online or at the beginning of the tour (at 711 Magnolia Street, got it!) It includes the gardens of four homes and a complete tour of one of the houses, as well as a live studio tour. This is a walking tour, but all four gardens are in very close proximity to one another. There will be artists painting at each home, musicians playing, and plenty of beverages to keep you hydrated along the way. Some of the art will be available for purchase, so bring your gift list and your wallet. This will be a very special night. Bring your beau, your Mama, your sisters and even your brothers. There's plenty of good food in downtown Villa Rica, so make a night of it. Parking is being graciously provided by Happy Valley Church.
I'm ready to string up some party lights and bring out my guitar. Ya'll come on out, ya hear?!
July in the South is when the Devil comes down to Georgia. We have air conditioning in the house, the car, the store, heck even Six Flags has it outside while you're waiting in line for the roller coasters. But if you wait until the sun is tipping back over the trees, there comes a sweetness in the balmy breeze. Makes me remember what it was like to do cartwheels.
We're going to have a shindig here in Villa Rica, come July 20th from 6:00 to 8:00 (in the evening, don't be waking me up). Rain date is July 27. It's being called the "Art in the Garden" Tour. You can find the link on Facebook under the Villa Rica Arts Coalition page. The tour begins at 7i1 Magnolia Street. Tickets before July 4 are only $5. After July 4, they are only $10! They can be purchased online or at the beginning of the tour (at 711 Magnolia Street, got it!) It includes the gardens of four homes and a complete tour of one of the houses, as well as a live studio tour. This is a walking tour, but all four gardens are in very close proximity to one another. There will be artists painting at each home, musicians playing, and plenty of beverages to keep you hydrated along the way. Some of the art will be available for purchase, so bring your gift list and your wallet. This will be a very special night. Bring your beau, your Mama, your sisters and even your brothers. There's plenty of good food in downtown Villa Rica, so make a night of it. Parking is being graciously provided by Happy Valley Church.
I'm ready to string up some party lights and bring out my guitar. Ya'll come on out, ya hear?!
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