On this Saturday so many years ago, one man had entered into Paradise and one, we presume, was in hell.
The men crucified with Jesus, on either side of Him, reacted to the happenings of Good Friday very differently. One of them mocked and debased Jesus. The other one through some kind of epiphany told the mocker that they were justly being crucified whereas Jesus had done nothing wrong. He asked Jesus, "Remember me when you enter into your Kingdom." And Jesus said, "I tell you, on this day you will be with Me in Paradise." Isn't that powerful?
By asking Jesus to remember him in Jesus' Kingdom, he was really saying that he believed Jesus to be the Christ, the Messiah. Who else would have such a Kingdom? And for a human being, it is this recognition, this acceptance of Jesus as the Christ that is conversion.
Now about hell. No one wants to talk about it. Some deny it exists. The Biblical description of hell is terrifying and frightening. There is the wailing and gnashing of teeth. There is unending fire. But for those who believe in Heaven, then because good and evil are opposed to one another, there must be a judgment place where evil goes.
Who doesn't struggle with the idea that people are condemned to such a place as hell? I have always felt so torn about it and sometimes I still am. I was checking out some websites on the internet one day about seven years ago, and found a website that deals with the visionaries of Medjujorge. One of the now grown children wrote about hell. If you believe what happened to these people as children, then you believe that they talked to Mary, the mother of Jesus.
One of the visionaries, I believe it was Mirjana, wrote about hell. Her testimony is absolutely moving and it spoke a complete and utter truth to me. She said that God does not send anyone to hell. People send themselves because they have completely rejected God in every way and want nothing to do with Him. They have rejected the Spirit; they have totally turned away from God and have spurned Him. And according to this visionary, they are hardened against God to such an extent that they even reject heaven.
This explanation freed me from thinking that God sent believers to hell just because of their sins. Because now I could understand clearly that those who deny God could not be part of God's Heaven. And yet, I feel sorrow for those who push God away. According to a friend of mine, this is the burden for the lost that believers bear. And it is this very sorrow that should keep me writing a post on this blog every single day that at least hints at the treasures that our God has waiting for us who love and serve Him. Wouldn't it be worth it if just one person turned toward God? Loving and serving God is not bondage; it is freedom.
Knowing that there is a God who loves us and sent His son to redeem us is truth, and those of us who know this truth are bound to share it. Living in a small town fanned the flames of my love for God, and living in a small town allowed me to meet people to whom God would surely say, "You are not far from the Kingdom of Heaven." Be not afraid to make a fool of yourself for God.
May each of you have a most blessesd Easter and hear the words of the apostles and the women, "He has risen."
Light of Christ
Saturday, March 30, 2013
Friday, March 29, 2013
The Lessons of Good Friday
The first point is, why do we call it "Good Friday?"
I consulted the trusty internet and discovered that there is a bit of a mystery about this. Some thought that this phrase could have come from the German, Gute Freitag. Turns out the Germans don't call it Good Friday either; they refer to it as Sorrowful or Suffering Friday. Then there are the Danes. The Danish people refer to it as Long Friday.
Most Christians would say that Good Friday comes from the fact that Christ, by His Death, "showed His great love for man, and purchased for him every blessing." So, good in this instance means holy, and in the Eastern churches Good Friday is referred to as Holy and Great Friday.
What other lessons are there?
May your long, sorrowful, suffering, holy and great Friday be meaningful.
I consulted the trusty internet and discovered that there is a bit of a mystery about this. Some thought that this phrase could have come from the German, Gute Freitag. Turns out the Germans don't call it Good Friday either; they refer to it as Sorrowful or Suffering Friday. Then there are the Danes. The Danish people refer to it as Long Friday.
Most Christians would say that Good Friday comes from the fact that Christ, by His Death, "showed His great love for man, and purchased for him every blessing." So, good in this instance means holy, and in the Eastern churches Good Friday is referred to as Holy and Great Friday.
What other lessons are there?
- That true peace comes from true forgiveness. Jesus forgave everyone who harmed him and asked His father to forgive them while he was on the cross.
- That true love is shown by sacrifice. Giving rather than getting is a much higher purpose.
- That when we know what we are to do in life, we should get about it, and not worry what others are doing in that regard.
- That sorrow shows our humanity, and that those who mourn and are sorrowful will one day know what it is for Jesus to "wipe away every tear."
- That even the most hardened and crusted people can be shaken to their core when they come to believe in Jesus. (Roman Centurion)
- That because of Jesus, we have the gift of the Holy Spirit.
- That even when it seems we can't go on, God will send help. (Simon, from Cyrene)
- That more than 2,000 years ago, God walked on this earth, and showed us that He is the way, the truth, and the life.
May your long, sorrowful, suffering, holy and great Friday be meaningful.
Thursday, March 28, 2013
Sunrise
If you haven't watched The Bible yet on television, the final segment will be on Easter Sunday. It has been worthwhile viewing this special event. Apparently, the response has been far more than Mark Burnette and Romy Downey ever expected. People are so hungry for God.
I was reflecting on the apostles and how their life must have been a total roller coaster. The ups -- people clamoring for Jesus, Jesus healing people, Jesus feeding the people, Jesus becoming known by more and more, people calling for Jesus to be their king.
They knew the private Jesus and they knew the public Jesus. They ate meals with Him, listened to His words meant especially for them, and they heard Him speak to the multitudes. His words were clear -- that he must die. And yet, they could not really grasp the whole of it, could they?
For when the downs came -- Judas betraying Jesus, Jesus being arrested, Peter denying Jesus, and Jesus being tortured -- they were laid low. They were afraid and hiding. A few of them witnessed His death, including Mary. But their ministry was in shambles, and they were afraid that their own end was next.
After Jesus gave His life and his followers were in hiding, only the women went to the tomb because they were obeying the customs which included anointing the body with special oils. It was a dark time for them, the darkest of days.
When the women returned and cried out that Jesus was gone, that He had risen from the death, they thought they were hysterical, but several of them checked the tomb for themselves. He was gone and He was risen. It was then that they remembered His words.
The very thing that Rome feared most had happened. The prophecies were fulfilled in their midst. The apostles saw Jesus again, even Thomas, and after Jesus went to His Father, they were filled with the Holy Spirit on Pentecost.
Today there are many who in a sense hide and are afraid, are in a dark place, are lonely and confused, and who do not know what is missing in their lives. The world's answer for joy and love is not Jesus' answer for joy and love.
Easter in a small town is more intimate. You know many of your fellow parishioners, and you know many who attend other churches. We have quite a few here in Canal Fulton. In a quiet place shaded with huge fir trees that overlooks the little town, there is a cemetery. In fact, you can easily see the spire of SS Philip & James from this place. Years ago, I went to a sunrise service there. Can you imagine the peace and the quiet of reverent souls gathering in a place like that?
So we prepare to remember that more than 2,000 years ago mankind's existence was changed. The sorrow of tomorrow will turn to joy, just as it did then.
I was reflecting on the apostles and how their life must have been a total roller coaster. The ups -- people clamoring for Jesus, Jesus healing people, Jesus feeding the people, Jesus becoming known by more and more, people calling for Jesus to be their king.
They knew the private Jesus and they knew the public Jesus. They ate meals with Him, listened to His words meant especially for them, and they heard Him speak to the multitudes. His words were clear -- that he must die. And yet, they could not really grasp the whole of it, could they?
For when the downs came -- Judas betraying Jesus, Jesus being arrested, Peter denying Jesus, and Jesus being tortured -- they were laid low. They were afraid and hiding. A few of them witnessed His death, including Mary. But their ministry was in shambles, and they were afraid that their own end was next.
After Jesus gave His life and his followers were in hiding, only the women went to the tomb because they were obeying the customs which included anointing the body with special oils. It was a dark time for them, the darkest of days.
When the women returned and cried out that Jesus was gone, that He had risen from the death, they thought they were hysterical, but several of them checked the tomb for themselves. He was gone and He was risen. It was then that they remembered His words.
The very thing that Rome feared most had happened. The prophecies were fulfilled in their midst. The apostles saw Jesus again, even Thomas, and after Jesus went to His Father, they were filled with the Holy Spirit on Pentecost.
Today there are many who in a sense hide and are afraid, are in a dark place, are lonely and confused, and who do not know what is missing in their lives. The world's answer for joy and love is not Jesus' answer for joy and love.
Easter in a small town is more intimate. You know many of your fellow parishioners, and you know many who attend other churches. We have quite a few here in Canal Fulton. In a quiet place shaded with huge fir trees that overlooks the little town, there is a cemetery. In fact, you can easily see the spire of SS Philip & James from this place. Years ago, I went to a sunrise service there. Can you imagine the peace and the quiet of reverent souls gathering in a place like that?
So we prepare to remember that more than 2,000 years ago mankind's existence was changed. The sorrow of tomorrow will turn to joy, just as it did then.
Wednesday, March 27, 2013
Tomorrow is Holy Thursday
Wednesday morning of Holy Week. The Jewish people eat the Seder meal on Thursday night. I looked it up but couldn't find anything definitive on whether or not the Last Supper was a Seder meal or not.
At any rate, we know it was held in an upper room, something far more fancy than the apostles were used to. We know that someone must have allowed them to use it or perhaps the less expensive rooms were already in use. We know that the apostles were to look for a man carrying water. In one Bible study, we assumed that this was significant in a busy city filled with people because women usually carried the water. But I've read recently that it might have been signficant because a wealthy woman might have had a man servant to carry water. Many well-to-do women financially supported Jesus in those last three years of His life.
We know that the meal included the typical unleavened bread, and that the apostles were served bread and wine later in the evening at the end.
The Passover itself for the Jewish people would have been yet another reminder of their former enslavement, and their current circumstances of being under the thumb of Rome. There would have been those who rallied against Roman rule.
The chaos, confusion, noise, and bedlam within Jerusalem must have been quite something. People, animals, sacrifices, food. And adding to the usual drama, the people have heard that Jesus is there. For some of them, this is wonderful news. They have heard of his miracles; they may have even heard him speak at some earlier time.
Life for us too is chaotic sometimes, filled with noise, confusion and bedlam. Jesus sought out solace and peace in the Garden of Olives, a place where olives were pressed for their precious oil. And He prayed that his Father might take away what was coming, if it was His will.
And so we too reflect during this time, as Easter gets closer. We reflect on our own decisions, and perhaps seek out some peace and solace of our own. How can we thank Jesus enough for what He did for us?
At any rate, we know it was held in an upper room, something far more fancy than the apostles were used to. We know that someone must have allowed them to use it or perhaps the less expensive rooms were already in use. We know that the apostles were to look for a man carrying water. In one Bible study, we assumed that this was significant in a busy city filled with people because women usually carried the water. But I've read recently that it might have been signficant because a wealthy woman might have had a man servant to carry water. Many well-to-do women financially supported Jesus in those last three years of His life.
We know that the meal included the typical unleavened bread, and that the apostles were served bread and wine later in the evening at the end.
The Passover itself for the Jewish people would have been yet another reminder of their former enslavement, and their current circumstances of being under the thumb of Rome. There would have been those who rallied against Roman rule.
The chaos, confusion, noise, and bedlam within Jerusalem must have been quite something. People, animals, sacrifices, food. And adding to the usual drama, the people have heard that Jesus is there. For some of them, this is wonderful news. They have heard of his miracles; they may have even heard him speak at some earlier time.
Life for us too is chaotic sometimes, filled with noise, confusion and bedlam. Jesus sought out solace and peace in the Garden of Olives, a place where olives were pressed for their precious oil. And He prayed that his Father might take away what was coming, if it was His will.
And so we too reflect during this time, as Easter gets closer. We reflect on our own decisions, and perhaps seek out some peace and solace of our own. How can we thank Jesus enough for what He did for us?
Tuesday, March 26, 2013
Delegating
Hello everyone!!
So it's winter again in Ohio!! Robins are hanging around in the streets, like they usually do when it snows after their return. Isn't their ability to survive amazing?
The title of this morning's blog is, "Delegating."
The Pope called Argentina. He dialed directly to the little newspaper kiosk that delivered his paper each day in order to cancel his subscription. A boy answered and thought it was a joke. The Pope said, "Daniel, it's Cardinal Jorge." The boy finally realized who was on the other end and he cried. What a moment!
Delegating is considered one of the hallmarks of good leadership. Have someone else do things for you so you can do bigger things, I suppose it might be said. I worked for a woman who loved to delegate, because it made her feel bigger and more powerful. She lorded her power over the underlings she ruled. Her leadership style, although she delegated, was poor indeed. The office was dysfunctional and unhappy.
Then I worked for Dale, my boss for more than 17 years. He delegated too, but he did a lot of things for himself. He filed his own paperwork; he made his own plane reservations; he kept his own calendar. Apparently, his former administrative assistant had done many things for him, and then when she left, he couldn't find a thing and felt lost. He didn't want to go down that road again.
It was just fine with me. Filing has always been what I do worst. Plane reservations -- then if he gets a lousy seat or the flight is diverted, I'd feel responsible. Keep his calendar? Nope. He realized that he forgot things much less when he wrote it down himself. Believe me, what he did delegate kept me very, very busy.
The best of the "big shots" have learned that doing for yourself isn't such a bad thing. It keeps you in touch with people and situations that you would overlook. It keeps you humble. The Pope apparently is very humble, and around now he probably misses that little apartment and his morning paper and the phone calls from the parish priests in Argentina. But he must now serve a higher purpose.
Easter approaches fast. More than 2,000 years ago, Jesus was preparing for his trip to Jerusalem, and his disciples were concerned about the timing. They would be in the city during the Jewish Passover, and there would be many pilgrims there. The agony for Jesus is just beginning.
Let us do for ourselves what we can, and let us appreciate and respect those who do for us what we cannot do for ourselves. Let us serve.
So it's winter again in Ohio!! Robins are hanging around in the streets, like they usually do when it snows after their return. Isn't their ability to survive amazing?
The title of this morning's blog is, "Delegating."
The Pope called Argentina. He dialed directly to the little newspaper kiosk that delivered his paper each day in order to cancel his subscription. A boy answered and thought it was a joke. The Pope said, "Daniel, it's Cardinal Jorge." The boy finally realized who was on the other end and he cried. What a moment!
Delegating is considered one of the hallmarks of good leadership. Have someone else do things for you so you can do bigger things, I suppose it might be said. I worked for a woman who loved to delegate, because it made her feel bigger and more powerful. She lorded her power over the underlings she ruled. Her leadership style, although she delegated, was poor indeed. The office was dysfunctional and unhappy.
Then I worked for Dale, my boss for more than 17 years. He delegated too, but he did a lot of things for himself. He filed his own paperwork; he made his own plane reservations; he kept his own calendar. Apparently, his former administrative assistant had done many things for him, and then when she left, he couldn't find a thing and felt lost. He didn't want to go down that road again.
It was just fine with me. Filing has always been what I do worst. Plane reservations -- then if he gets a lousy seat or the flight is diverted, I'd feel responsible. Keep his calendar? Nope. He realized that he forgot things much less when he wrote it down himself. Believe me, what he did delegate kept me very, very busy.
The best of the "big shots" have learned that doing for yourself isn't such a bad thing. It keeps you in touch with people and situations that you would overlook. It keeps you humble. The Pope apparently is very humble, and around now he probably misses that little apartment and his morning paper and the phone calls from the parish priests in Argentina. But he must now serve a higher purpose.
Easter approaches fast. More than 2,000 years ago, Jesus was preparing for his trip to Jerusalem, and his disciples were concerned about the timing. They would be in the city during the Jewish Passover, and there would be many pilgrims there. The agony for Jesus is just beginning.
Let us do for ourselves what we can, and let us appreciate and respect those who do for us what we cannot do for ourselves. Let us serve.
Saturday, March 23, 2013
Spaghetti
Well, today is the day for the Easter egg hunt here, and possibly five of the seven grandchildren coming to visit. So, there is much to do.
I'll keep this very short today. Bet you have a ton of stuff to do yourself for Easter, and I bet maybe not too many access this blog today.
If you get the chance, go to the Fox website and sign the statement that you would like the Amazing Race producers to apologize for their horrible episode featuring a downed rusted B-52 in Vietnam and for having the contestants sing anti-American songs that were used during the war in that country more than 40 years ago.
You know the old saying, we're doomed to repeat history if we don't know it? There are many, many Americans who still carry the scars of that war. It should not be a surprise that the communists in that country like to make up their own stories of how the war went. We had a graduate assistant in our department at UA about 12 years ago. He came from Vietnam. As time went by and I got to know him better, I craved some first hand information about Vietnam and sought him out for his take on things. He was very, very candid and took the time to answer my many questions. One thing he said was that they were using the Ho Chi Ming trail as tourist stops, and people toured the tunnels where the enemy had hidden in Cu Chi. Even he knew that they were spinning lies about the war. Many former soldiers who served there have returned to Vietnam and have undoubtedly experienced some of this.
Where has the media been in telling this story? How the communists are still flaunting our pull-out as their "victory." How propaganda is still rampant, and people who don't know any better are sucked into it, in order for those in power to feel even more powerful.
Check it out if you get the chance. CBS needs to apologize for this one. It's outrageous.
Take care, and have a great day today. See you Tuesday.
I'll keep this very short today. Bet you have a ton of stuff to do yourself for Easter, and I bet maybe not too many access this blog today.
If you get the chance, go to the Fox website and sign the statement that you would like the Amazing Race producers to apologize for their horrible episode featuring a downed rusted B-52 in Vietnam and for having the contestants sing anti-American songs that were used during the war in that country more than 40 years ago.
You know the old saying, we're doomed to repeat history if we don't know it? There are many, many Americans who still carry the scars of that war. It should not be a surprise that the communists in that country like to make up their own stories of how the war went. We had a graduate assistant in our department at UA about 12 years ago. He came from Vietnam. As time went by and I got to know him better, I craved some first hand information about Vietnam and sought him out for his take on things. He was very, very candid and took the time to answer my many questions. One thing he said was that they were using the Ho Chi Ming trail as tourist stops, and people toured the tunnels where the enemy had hidden in Cu Chi. Even he knew that they were spinning lies about the war. Many former soldiers who served there have returned to Vietnam and have undoubtedly experienced some of this.
Where has the media been in telling this story? How the communists are still flaunting our pull-out as their "victory." How propaganda is still rampant, and people who don't know any better are sucked into it, in order for those in power to feel even more powerful.
Check it out if you get the chance. CBS needs to apologize for this one. It's outrageous.
Take care, and have a great day today. See you Tuesday.
Friday, March 22, 2013
Game
I have a theory. People just love The Ohio State University, buy products with its logos, root for OSU in person or on TV, and many kids dream of going there one day.
This loyal following is there for a reason. Cleveland. We stalwart souls in the northeast Ohio region haven't really had much to cheer about. I don't pay one iota of attention to the Indians pre-season or otherwise because we've all gone down that path before. The new stadium drew record attendance for a number of years, but the Indians couldn't get to the top. And then they went to the bottom. Then there's the Cavs. It's always something. How about the Browns? Now we've lost Phil Dawson!!
New owners come and go, new players come and go, and new facilities come, but nothing much seems to change in Cleveland. The disappointment is so great for rabid sports fans that they turn to a place that produces winners -- OSU. They stoke their adrenalin and go to work on Monday still full of the taste of victory.
Last night I was really hoping Akron could go to the NCAA tournament, show their stuff, and make it through to the second round for the first time in their history. It just didn't happen. In fact, it was a train wreck. The final score was a disparaging 88-42. Someone will probably say today that it was the worst defeat in NCAA history since the playoffs started. Sure, there are reasons for what happened. Their point guard apparently sold marijuana and got caught with it. He hung around with another guy who did the same. Then two players came down with the flu on Wednesday afternoon. In some ways, it sounds like Cleveland, doesn't it?
It's tough to be a fan of Cleveland sports, and it's tough to be an Akron fan. Trust me, I know. You go to bed upset and sleep lousy. Then while you are awake during the night after sleeping lousy, you get mad at yourself for caring enough to sleep lousy. It's just a game!! But it does reflect life. Once you put your heart into something, you script a certain result. Don't we all do that to some extent? We want the team to fulfill something within ourselves that's hurt or missing.
And I do feel bad for the Zips team. They seem like a group of decent young men who worked hard towards a goal. Their record would have been 28-6 had it not be for losing their point guard right at the end.
The one thing I need to do is just remember this: we have a God who has put everything on the line for us. He gave it all. And unlike us, when it doesn't turn out right, he never quits. Isn't that something?
This weekend is Palm Sunday, Jesus' entrance into Jerusalem to the throngs of Jews who appeared to love him. Who could know that the Sanhedrin, Pilate, and Herod Antipas would all play a part in moving him toward Calvary? That His own disciples would turn away from him? And that our sins were the underpinning of it all.
This loyal following is there for a reason. Cleveland. We stalwart souls in the northeast Ohio region haven't really had much to cheer about. I don't pay one iota of attention to the Indians pre-season or otherwise because we've all gone down that path before. The new stadium drew record attendance for a number of years, but the Indians couldn't get to the top. And then they went to the bottom. Then there's the Cavs. It's always something. How about the Browns? Now we've lost Phil Dawson!!
New owners come and go, new players come and go, and new facilities come, but nothing much seems to change in Cleveland. The disappointment is so great for rabid sports fans that they turn to a place that produces winners -- OSU. They stoke their adrenalin and go to work on Monday still full of the taste of victory.
Last night I was really hoping Akron could go to the NCAA tournament, show their stuff, and make it through to the second round for the first time in their history. It just didn't happen. In fact, it was a train wreck. The final score was a disparaging 88-42. Someone will probably say today that it was the worst defeat in NCAA history since the playoffs started. Sure, there are reasons for what happened. Their point guard apparently sold marijuana and got caught with it. He hung around with another guy who did the same. Then two players came down with the flu on Wednesday afternoon. In some ways, it sounds like Cleveland, doesn't it?
It's tough to be a fan of Cleveland sports, and it's tough to be an Akron fan. Trust me, I know. You go to bed upset and sleep lousy. Then while you are awake during the night after sleeping lousy, you get mad at yourself for caring enough to sleep lousy. It's just a game!! But it does reflect life. Once you put your heart into something, you script a certain result. Don't we all do that to some extent? We want the team to fulfill something within ourselves that's hurt or missing.
And I do feel bad for the Zips team. They seem like a group of decent young men who worked hard towards a goal. Their record would have been 28-6 had it not be for losing their point guard right at the end.
The one thing I need to do is just remember this: we have a God who has put everything on the line for us. He gave it all. And unlike us, when it doesn't turn out right, he never quits. Isn't that something?
This weekend is Palm Sunday, Jesus' entrance into Jerusalem to the throngs of Jews who appeared to love him. Who could know that the Sanhedrin, Pilate, and Herod Antipas would all play a part in moving him toward Calvary? That His own disciples would turn away from him? And that our sins were the underpinning of it all.
Thursday, March 21, 2013
Reflections on a Small Town
"A River Runs Through It," is the title of an excellent movie made quite a few years ago. You can find it on the free cable stations sometimes. Worth a watch.
Well, here in Canal Fulton, we also have a river running through it, and added to that a canal runs through it. That's a lot of quaint in one place. The downtown park is only 11 acres!! And in that area, we manage to have a couple of soccer fields, a working canal boat, a visitor's center, a museum, a pavilion, the canal on one side, the river on the other side, a towpath, and parking. Adjacent to the park is a canoe livery, and behind that they own more acreage so there is a large camping area for weekend events of all kinds.
The other day I ordered some flowers, and chose to go to Coach House. It's been a while since I placed an order but the gentleman who answered the phone was quite nice. So he asks me, "Do we usually bill you or would you want to pay with a credit card?" I asked him to bill us. Kind of like doing business on a handshake, right? That's what I love about this place. At the end of the conversation, he was talking like he'd known me for years. One thing he said was interesting. Our phone numbers here in CF always started with 854. He said the number of 854 numbers has gone down dramatically, and now he can't tell where people are from based on their phone number. That's cell phones and bundled deals. It's yet another homogenization of our lives.
Near Coach House is a building that sat useless and rotting for years. It's been fixed up good as new and houses a glass shop. The propriestor sells the most beautiful glass you've ever seen, not to mention a host of other gorgeous products. His son blows glass on the property for visitors to see, and an engineering firm occupies another part of the second building. The owner wants to promote Ohio, so all of the goods he sells at his business are made in Ohio by Ohioans. Isn't that neat? I bought some earrings there and they are lovely.
Today we are off to the the Italian store in North Hill, Akron. It's a little outside of our area, but you can't argue with taste and quality. I've been going to this business for probably close for more than 40 years. We're picking up some of their famous Sicilian sausage and some freshly grated parmesan cheese for homemade spaghetti we'll be serving on Saturday. We always have an Easter egg hunt and a dinner the weekend before Easter, a tradition that started with our first granddaughter who is now 18.
When the weather gets nicer, we'll do a little walking tour of CF. You don't have to own hiking boots for it either. See you tomorrow morning!!
Well, here in Canal Fulton, we also have a river running through it, and added to that a canal runs through it. That's a lot of quaint in one place. The downtown park is only 11 acres!! And in that area, we manage to have a couple of soccer fields, a working canal boat, a visitor's center, a museum, a pavilion, the canal on one side, the river on the other side, a towpath, and parking. Adjacent to the park is a canoe livery, and behind that they own more acreage so there is a large camping area for weekend events of all kinds.
The other day I ordered some flowers, and chose to go to Coach House. It's been a while since I placed an order but the gentleman who answered the phone was quite nice. So he asks me, "Do we usually bill you or would you want to pay with a credit card?" I asked him to bill us. Kind of like doing business on a handshake, right? That's what I love about this place. At the end of the conversation, he was talking like he'd known me for years. One thing he said was interesting. Our phone numbers here in CF always started with 854. He said the number of 854 numbers has gone down dramatically, and now he can't tell where people are from based on their phone number. That's cell phones and bundled deals. It's yet another homogenization of our lives.
Near Coach House is a building that sat useless and rotting for years. It's been fixed up good as new and houses a glass shop. The propriestor sells the most beautiful glass you've ever seen, not to mention a host of other gorgeous products. His son blows glass on the property for visitors to see, and an engineering firm occupies another part of the second building. The owner wants to promote Ohio, so all of the goods he sells at his business are made in Ohio by Ohioans. Isn't that neat? I bought some earrings there and they are lovely.
Today we are off to the the Italian store in North Hill, Akron. It's a little outside of our area, but you can't argue with taste and quality. I've been going to this business for probably close for more than 40 years. We're picking up some of their famous Sicilian sausage and some freshly grated parmesan cheese for homemade spaghetti we'll be serving on Saturday. We always have an Easter egg hunt and a dinner the weekend before Easter, a tradition that started with our first granddaughter who is now 18.
When the weather gets nicer, we'll do a little walking tour of CF. You don't have to own hiking boots for it either. See you tomorrow morning!!
Wednesday, March 20, 2013
ADD and Prayer
Yep, I'm still on the ADD kick. Bear with me, because I rarely stick with one topic for more than two posts. If this is boring, try again tomorrow.
For a struggling Christian, prayer is an important part of this path for life. It is a path where every single day one has to choose to put God first. This is difficult with the "world" screaming in our ears at every turn, "Put yourself first." Hair ads, "You're worth it." Skin medications that promise a more youthful glow. Six inch heals -- please tell me what they are supposed to do? Ankle doctors must love them!! Vacation ads showing tanned, young people on the beach. Vitamins, supplements, apple cider vinegar, and it goes on and on.
Well, ADD and prayer don't go along so well together. With a hunter/gatherer brain, sitting still, being quiet, listening for God's voice, repeating prayers, and contemplating what I cannot see is really difficult. It usually results in failure, so I've thought, perhaps God wants me to go about praying in a different way. Thus I take the words of St. James very literally, "Pray always." As I go about the day, I try to keep God at the center of it. With my grandchildren, as I drive to and from places, as I listen to the day's news, as I read the prayer requests forwarded to a group of us from Julie Barkey -- I talk to God. If he has numbered the hair on our heads, if he knows when the sparrow falls, if he fought off every temptation the devil could throw at him, then my efforts are not in vain. Sometimes I say short prayers throughout the day.
If I have any sort of pain, I immediately offer it up. If someone I care about is hurting, I hurt too and I offer that up.
We have to work at trusting God. It is completely counter-intuitive to this world's thinking to trust in God. And yet we are in the world daily and we must wage this war. It brings to mind the St. Michael prayer, doesn't it?
I have had some very strange encounters in my life, touches from God. One day as I was leaving work at UA, it was just a sheet of ice on the sidewalk leading to the parking deck. I was wearing dress shoes and had no traction. A man was coming the other way towards me and he asked, "Are you going to be all right?" I answered, "I think so. I'll just go very slowly." And then he said something extraordinary, "I'll pray for you." Wow.
Another time I was walking down that same sidewalk towards Children's Hospital to see my granddaughter who was hospitalized there for her epilepsy. The sidewalk narrowed at one point to where only one person could pass. A woman wearing a cloth on her head was coming the other way, and I stepped to the side to allow her access. As she went by me, she said words to the effect that she would pray for me.
I'll keep trying to do traditional prayer. Julie Barkey gave me a CD of the rosary with no background music, no distractions, and it does help. I can usually concentrate on maybe three of the five decades in total. The Divine Mercy chaplet is also something that I can usually follow. What I'm saying here is that I've got to try harder!!!
When we pray, our words aren't just floating up in the air and disappearing. They are reaching the notice of God. They are never wasted.
Choose the Lord. Make Him first. All other things will follow.
For a struggling Christian, prayer is an important part of this path for life. It is a path where every single day one has to choose to put God first. This is difficult with the "world" screaming in our ears at every turn, "Put yourself first." Hair ads, "You're worth it." Skin medications that promise a more youthful glow. Six inch heals -- please tell me what they are supposed to do? Ankle doctors must love them!! Vacation ads showing tanned, young people on the beach. Vitamins, supplements, apple cider vinegar, and it goes on and on.
Well, ADD and prayer don't go along so well together. With a hunter/gatherer brain, sitting still, being quiet, listening for God's voice, repeating prayers, and contemplating what I cannot see is really difficult. It usually results in failure, so I've thought, perhaps God wants me to go about praying in a different way. Thus I take the words of St. James very literally, "Pray always." As I go about the day, I try to keep God at the center of it. With my grandchildren, as I drive to and from places, as I listen to the day's news, as I read the prayer requests forwarded to a group of us from Julie Barkey -- I talk to God. If he has numbered the hair on our heads, if he knows when the sparrow falls, if he fought off every temptation the devil could throw at him, then my efforts are not in vain. Sometimes I say short prayers throughout the day.
If I have any sort of pain, I immediately offer it up. If someone I care about is hurting, I hurt too and I offer that up.
We have to work at trusting God. It is completely counter-intuitive to this world's thinking to trust in God. And yet we are in the world daily and we must wage this war. It brings to mind the St. Michael prayer, doesn't it?
I have had some very strange encounters in my life, touches from God. One day as I was leaving work at UA, it was just a sheet of ice on the sidewalk leading to the parking deck. I was wearing dress shoes and had no traction. A man was coming the other way towards me and he asked, "Are you going to be all right?" I answered, "I think so. I'll just go very slowly." And then he said something extraordinary, "I'll pray for you." Wow.
Another time I was walking down that same sidewalk towards Children's Hospital to see my granddaughter who was hospitalized there for her epilepsy. The sidewalk narrowed at one point to where only one person could pass. A woman wearing a cloth on her head was coming the other way, and I stepped to the side to allow her access. As she went by me, she said words to the effect that she would pray for me.
I'll keep trying to do traditional prayer. Julie Barkey gave me a CD of the rosary with no background music, no distractions, and it does help. I can usually concentrate on maybe three of the five decades in total. The Divine Mercy chaplet is also something that I can usually follow. What I'm saying here is that I've got to try harder!!!
When we pray, our words aren't just floating up in the air and disappearing. They are reaching the notice of God. They are never wasted.
Choose the Lord. Make Him first. All other things will follow.
Tuesday, March 19, 2013
ADD
Let me tell you the saga of our family and ADD.
First, where did it come from? My best guess is my dad's side of the family, and that's because of some rather telling information that's been passed down about a few members. My mom's side of the family appears to be quite blameless, since no one had any particular problems in school or otherwise.
When I was in elementary school, I dreaded teacher conferences. My mom and sister would always give me the report that, "Karen daydreams." I knew that. I'd be sitting in class and minding my own business, when all of the sudden I'd look up and everyone was getting a book out of their desk and turning to a specific page. If I asked for help from someone, there was always the risk of getting in trouble. So I did the best I could to try and catch up. As time went by, I quit answering in class and simply tried to be invisible. The assessment I had of myself was something like this: dumber than a box of rocks. A lot of stress and effort went into keeping my stupidity a secret from my family, all of whom seemed to excel. When we were asked to choose teams at school, my heart literally dropped an inch or two, because I knew my name would be called last or second to last. The kids knew I was dumb as a box of rocks too. And I was apparently alone in this in my family.
That is, except for my older sister, but since I was born 15 years after she was, I didn't hear about all of the stories until years later. Like how she would spell her name, "NAOJ," in school -- a sure signal for dyslexia which I did not have. How she struggled in school and somehow by an almost miracle she made it through nurse's training and received the coveted RN.
College sure seemed far fetched for someone like me, but in a strange twist of events, the Dean of Girls at my high school met with my sister (my mother by this time was deceased). She told her that I had scored high on IQ tests and should go to college if at all possible. So I did indeed go. At first it was really tough. I didn't know how to study whatsoever. Finally, I came up with my own individual style of studying. I'd sit on the bed in my room and look at the lecture notes. I'd recreate the lecture that I'd heard in class, and go over and over it until I could recite the lecture by looking only at the top line of each page. My grades shot up; I graduated!!! Apparently, only 40% of those with ADD make it through college.
Then in another twist of fate, I ended up working at The University of Akron. I loved the academic atmosphere, and worked at that time in the Department of Accounting. My boys were older and one of them was trying to figure out algebra. Finally, I brought the problems into work one day and the department chair worked on them for a while and tried to show me how he got the answers. I remarked to no one in particular, "I think maybe I have some kind of brain dysfunction."
When my older son went to college, he also struggled. He liked playing volleyball just as much as studying, in fact much more, so he sometimes neglected the work he should have been doing. He was now 23 years old. I wondered if he would ever graduate.
My sweet, dear friend, Kathy Rhodes, had died some time before I picked up the Akron Beacon Journal one day and read a prominent article -- about adult ADD. I don't know why she came to mind, but to this day, I know that Kathy had something to do with me seeing that story. Because when I read it, the hair on my neck rose and I got the chills. It not only described me to a tee; it described my son to a tee. He had gotten by in school, but even his second grade teacher knew there was something not quite right.
I prayed for just the right time to mention what I had read to my son. The time came, and he was very open to the information. I found a doctor in Akron who treated adult ADD and my son went in for an examination. He went to Kent, Ohio for a special test that the doctor liked to give adults. Then we went in for the results. My own ADD was self-diagnosed, but my son's wasn't. He was clearly ADD; the tests showed it. But the doctor's wonderful explanation and summary were what stuck in my mind. He told my son, "You have a wonderful, fast brain. You should be getting all A's in school. I've given this test to a lot of people and you scored the second highest of anyone. I scored the highest and that's because I knew what was coming."
We all turned a corner that day. Now I knew the real reason for my struggles in school that I'd always blamed on my mother's illness and father's drinking. Now I knew the reason for my son's problems. Now we could do something about it.
Nope, it's not about medicine, at least not for us. It's about learning to use your brain so that you compensate for the difference. It's about embracing what an ADD brain can do. It's about accepting yourself as a person who happens to have ADD. It's about learning to organize. It's about knowing that there may be some things you can never really figure out.
One day a student came into my office at UA. It was summer, and she was trying to figure out a schedule problem. I guess she felt like talking and I felt like listening, since she described some of her problems in school. "I can make it through to about the 10th week and then it starts going downhill." Sounded kind of familiar to me and I hesitated -- should I suggest to a complete stranger that she might have ADD? I did talk to her about it. I felt like God really wanted me to. A year or so later, one of the professors from Accounting sought me out to tell me that she had graduated, and "it's because of you."
So if you know someone with ADD or suspect as much, don't be afraid to talk about it. Believe me -- knowing is so much better than not knowing.
And those twists of fate in my life -- their are no twists of fate. God, God, God. And thank you, God.
First, where did it come from? My best guess is my dad's side of the family, and that's because of some rather telling information that's been passed down about a few members. My mom's side of the family appears to be quite blameless, since no one had any particular problems in school or otherwise.
When I was in elementary school, I dreaded teacher conferences. My mom and sister would always give me the report that, "Karen daydreams." I knew that. I'd be sitting in class and minding my own business, when all of the sudden I'd look up and everyone was getting a book out of their desk and turning to a specific page. If I asked for help from someone, there was always the risk of getting in trouble. So I did the best I could to try and catch up. As time went by, I quit answering in class and simply tried to be invisible. The assessment I had of myself was something like this: dumber than a box of rocks. A lot of stress and effort went into keeping my stupidity a secret from my family, all of whom seemed to excel. When we were asked to choose teams at school, my heart literally dropped an inch or two, because I knew my name would be called last or second to last. The kids knew I was dumb as a box of rocks too. And I was apparently alone in this in my family.
That is, except for my older sister, but since I was born 15 years after she was, I didn't hear about all of the stories until years later. Like how she would spell her name, "NAOJ," in school -- a sure signal for dyslexia which I did not have. How she struggled in school and somehow by an almost miracle she made it through nurse's training and received the coveted RN.
College sure seemed far fetched for someone like me, but in a strange twist of events, the Dean of Girls at my high school met with my sister (my mother by this time was deceased). She told her that I had scored high on IQ tests and should go to college if at all possible. So I did indeed go. At first it was really tough. I didn't know how to study whatsoever. Finally, I came up with my own individual style of studying. I'd sit on the bed in my room and look at the lecture notes. I'd recreate the lecture that I'd heard in class, and go over and over it until I could recite the lecture by looking only at the top line of each page. My grades shot up; I graduated!!! Apparently, only 40% of those with ADD make it through college.
Then in another twist of fate, I ended up working at The University of Akron. I loved the academic atmosphere, and worked at that time in the Department of Accounting. My boys were older and one of them was trying to figure out algebra. Finally, I brought the problems into work one day and the department chair worked on them for a while and tried to show me how he got the answers. I remarked to no one in particular, "I think maybe I have some kind of brain dysfunction."
When my older son went to college, he also struggled. He liked playing volleyball just as much as studying, in fact much more, so he sometimes neglected the work he should have been doing. He was now 23 years old. I wondered if he would ever graduate.
My sweet, dear friend, Kathy Rhodes, had died some time before I picked up the Akron Beacon Journal one day and read a prominent article -- about adult ADD. I don't know why she came to mind, but to this day, I know that Kathy had something to do with me seeing that story. Because when I read it, the hair on my neck rose and I got the chills. It not only described me to a tee; it described my son to a tee. He had gotten by in school, but even his second grade teacher knew there was something not quite right.
I prayed for just the right time to mention what I had read to my son. The time came, and he was very open to the information. I found a doctor in Akron who treated adult ADD and my son went in for an examination. He went to Kent, Ohio for a special test that the doctor liked to give adults. Then we went in for the results. My own ADD was self-diagnosed, but my son's wasn't. He was clearly ADD; the tests showed it. But the doctor's wonderful explanation and summary were what stuck in my mind. He told my son, "You have a wonderful, fast brain. You should be getting all A's in school. I've given this test to a lot of people and you scored the second highest of anyone. I scored the highest and that's because I knew what was coming."
We all turned a corner that day. Now I knew the real reason for my struggles in school that I'd always blamed on my mother's illness and father's drinking. Now I knew the reason for my son's problems. Now we could do something about it.
Nope, it's not about medicine, at least not for us. It's about learning to use your brain so that you compensate for the difference. It's about embracing what an ADD brain can do. It's about accepting yourself as a person who happens to have ADD. It's about learning to organize. It's about knowing that there may be some things you can never really figure out.
One day a student came into my office at UA. It was summer, and she was trying to figure out a schedule problem. I guess she felt like talking and I felt like listening, since she described some of her problems in school. "I can make it through to about the 10th week and then it starts going downhill." Sounded kind of familiar to me and I hesitated -- should I suggest to a complete stranger that she might have ADD? I did talk to her about it. I felt like God really wanted me to. A year or so later, one of the professors from Accounting sought me out to tell me that she had graduated, and "it's because of you."
So if you know someone with ADD or suspect as much, don't be afraid to talk about it. Believe me -- knowing is so much better than not knowing.
And those twists of fate in my life -- their are no twists of fate. God, God, God. And thank you, God.
Saturday, March 16, 2013
Second Episode of The Bible
The second episode of The Bible (History Channel) featured Samson, Saul, and David. David, the young Israelite, faces Goliath, the monstrous Philistine who has killed many and probably believes he is invincible.
When David, the sole Israelite to step forward, announces that he will fight Goliath, the crowd laughs and jeers believing that this will be like a human's foot squashing an ant. But David who was already anointed to be King and was in waiting, was not afraid. As a shepherd, David had to face the fierce wolves which would happily make off with the lambs if they could. He was not armed with a spear or protective coverings; he had a slingshot. Thus, he had practiced long and hard to achieve some expertise with this primitive tool.
Goliath, in fact, believing himself to be unbeatable, removes his helmet and exposes his bare head. David gets a rock out of his pocket, places it in the leather and pulls as hard as he can. When the rock hits Goliath squarely in the head, he goes down fast and hard. We would call it "blunt force trauma."
So who were the Philistines who seem to be such a thorn in the sides of the Israelites? I wanted to know too, so I looked it up. They were considered to be among the "sea people," and lived in an area of Canaan near a lake. They were first known to occupy that area more than 1000 years before Christ. Some believe that they came from Greece or the coast of Asia Minor. They adopted the Canaan language and ruled over five city states that included Gaza (which is the highly contested area that the Palestinians occupy near Jerusalem). They were, in fact, the most tenacious and deadly enemy of the Israelites.
Goliath boasts that if David beats him, the Phillistines will be the slaves of the Israelites. But when Goliath goes down, the Phillistines have no intention of being anyone's slaves and they fight.
I enjoyed this second of five episodes very much. It kept my attention, and made me curious to know more. After all, this is not mere history or stories. This is the Word of God.
You may have heard that Bill O'Reilly is working on a third book, Killing Jesus. They are in the research portion of the project at this time, and he mentioned the other day on his show that the killing of Caesar has important implications in the death of Jesus. The one thing that I always try to remember, though, is that Jesus wasn't put to death on the cross. He GAVE his life. It was his choice. And he gave his life for us while taking on the sins of the world. We cannot in our minds conceive of such a burden, such a pain, as what he endured.
I hope that even if you didn't start watching The Bible, you might give it a try tomorrow night.
Have a great weekend, and I'll be back with you on Tuesday.
When David, the sole Israelite to step forward, announces that he will fight Goliath, the crowd laughs and jeers believing that this will be like a human's foot squashing an ant. But David who was already anointed to be King and was in waiting, was not afraid. As a shepherd, David had to face the fierce wolves which would happily make off with the lambs if they could. He was not armed with a spear or protective coverings; he had a slingshot. Thus, he had practiced long and hard to achieve some expertise with this primitive tool.
Goliath, in fact, believing himself to be unbeatable, removes his helmet and exposes his bare head. David gets a rock out of his pocket, places it in the leather and pulls as hard as he can. When the rock hits Goliath squarely in the head, he goes down fast and hard. We would call it "blunt force trauma."
So who were the Philistines who seem to be such a thorn in the sides of the Israelites? I wanted to know too, so I looked it up. They were considered to be among the "sea people," and lived in an area of Canaan near a lake. They were first known to occupy that area more than 1000 years before Christ. Some believe that they came from Greece or the coast of Asia Minor. They adopted the Canaan language and ruled over five city states that included Gaza (which is the highly contested area that the Palestinians occupy near Jerusalem). They were, in fact, the most tenacious and deadly enemy of the Israelites.
Goliath boasts that if David beats him, the Phillistines will be the slaves of the Israelites. But when Goliath goes down, the Phillistines have no intention of being anyone's slaves and they fight.
I enjoyed this second of five episodes very much. It kept my attention, and made me curious to know more. After all, this is not mere history or stories. This is the Word of God.
You may have heard that Bill O'Reilly is working on a third book, Killing Jesus. They are in the research portion of the project at this time, and he mentioned the other day on his show that the killing of Caesar has important implications in the death of Jesus. The one thing that I always try to remember, though, is that Jesus wasn't put to death on the cross. He GAVE his life. It was his choice. And he gave his life for us while taking on the sins of the world. We cannot in our minds conceive of such a burden, such a pain, as what he endured.
I hope that even if you didn't start watching The Bible, you might give it a try tomorrow night.
Have a great weekend, and I'll be back with you on Tuesday.
Thursday, March 14, 2013
The Old College Dream
I am 66 years old, and last night I experienced yet another of what is termed the "college dream."
In this dream, I have been bragging to everyone that I'm about to graduate from college and that everything is all mapped out for me. Then I suddenly remember that I've been forgetting to go to class almost all semester. I don't know what to do. Should I drop the classes? What about graduating? Do I know any of the material? Can I catch up? And also, I can't find one of the books.
As the reality of the situation begins to sink in (in the dream), I realize that my hopes of graduation are all but dashed and that I must somehow find a job. So when I woke up this morning, that's what I was doing. Trying to figure out how to find a job.
As I shared this frustrating dream with my husband, he said he also remembered a dream. A strange man came to the house and I talked to him all day. He was very jealous. My son came over and said to my husband, "Well, Eric, this time you've really done it." Don't know what that was supposed to mean.
So here I am having a dream about career, job, success, and my husband is still worrying about the stuff that you would think as a 68 year old he had moved past. Wow. Men and women are really different, aren't they? That's what my boss always used to say. We approach virtually everything differently. The "Men Are From Mars; Women Are From Venus" kind of thing where you read your portion of the book that applies to women and then you read the part that applies to men. You agree with everything that Dr. Gray said about women, but the men's portion is weird and alien. It couldn't be right, could it? Turns out, it is.
Dreams of falling, crashing, and all of that usually go along with some sort of concern or crisis. Once I dreamed that I and a co-worker flew off the side of a cliff in a van, heading for certain death. It was quiet and peaceful as the van glided in the air, and I was eerily calm too. Until I woke up and my heart was pounding outside my chest!!
The "college dream" also usually comes when I'm doing something that takes me outside of my comfort zone. College is a great time of life, but it is also incredibly stressful. My 80-year-old sister has experienced the "college dream" many times in her life, and also one other one -- she is teaching first grade and it is now April, and she realizes that none of the kids can read.
We can learn something from our dreams. They don't have to be blown off as some transient electrical activity in the brain at night. They are part of God's plan, just like everything else that happens to us.
One native tribe cut off from all civilization has this tradition of gathering for breakfast in the morning. Then everyone shares their dreams from the night before, and the group speculates on the meaning of each dream. They have a virtually no mental health problems.
Dreams can be gifts. They can promote healing. They can be messages or warnings (like Joseph's messages in the Bible).
Sleep well, friends.
In this dream, I have been bragging to everyone that I'm about to graduate from college and that everything is all mapped out for me. Then I suddenly remember that I've been forgetting to go to class almost all semester. I don't know what to do. Should I drop the classes? What about graduating? Do I know any of the material? Can I catch up? And also, I can't find one of the books.
As the reality of the situation begins to sink in (in the dream), I realize that my hopes of graduation are all but dashed and that I must somehow find a job. So when I woke up this morning, that's what I was doing. Trying to figure out how to find a job.
As I shared this frustrating dream with my husband, he said he also remembered a dream. A strange man came to the house and I talked to him all day. He was very jealous. My son came over and said to my husband, "Well, Eric, this time you've really done it." Don't know what that was supposed to mean.
So here I am having a dream about career, job, success, and my husband is still worrying about the stuff that you would think as a 68 year old he had moved past. Wow. Men and women are really different, aren't they? That's what my boss always used to say. We approach virtually everything differently. The "Men Are From Mars; Women Are From Venus" kind of thing where you read your portion of the book that applies to women and then you read the part that applies to men. You agree with everything that Dr. Gray said about women, but the men's portion is weird and alien. It couldn't be right, could it? Turns out, it is.
Dreams of falling, crashing, and all of that usually go along with some sort of concern or crisis. Once I dreamed that I and a co-worker flew off the side of a cliff in a van, heading for certain death. It was quiet and peaceful as the van glided in the air, and I was eerily calm too. Until I woke up and my heart was pounding outside my chest!!
The "college dream" also usually comes when I'm doing something that takes me outside of my comfort zone. College is a great time of life, but it is also incredibly stressful. My 80-year-old sister has experienced the "college dream" many times in her life, and also one other one -- she is teaching first grade and it is now April, and she realizes that none of the kids can read.
We can learn something from our dreams. They don't have to be blown off as some transient electrical activity in the brain at night. They are part of God's plan, just like everything else that happens to us.
One native tribe cut off from all civilization has this tradition of gathering for breakfast in the morning. Then everyone shares their dreams from the night before, and the group speculates on the meaning of each dream. They have a virtually no mental health problems.
Dreams can be gifts. They can promote healing. They can be messages or warnings (like Joseph's messages in the Bible).
Sleep well, friends.
New Pope
Jorge Mario Bergoglio is now Pope Francis. There are a couple of interesting facts in this first sentence. Pope Francis is a Jesuit, an order founded by Ignatius of Loyola. And yet, he took the name of a holy man who founded the Franciscans, the Order of Clare and the Poor Clares.
Francis and his sister were from Assisi, a lovely area of Italy, and though extremely holy, Francis never did become a priest. As far as a local connection is concerned, the Poor Clares are the nuns who live at Sancta Clara on Market Avenue in Canton. The most famous Poor Clare is Mother Angelica, who did live at Sancta Clara and is from Canton.
Pope Francis appears to be very humble, and those who know him say that is so. He mingled with the people, rode the bus, and ashewed the trappings of being a Cardinal. His work was centered in Argentina, and he was born there, but the Italians are also celebrating because Pope Francis's father was Italian and emigrated to Argentina. He was a railroad worker.
As time goes by, we will learn much more about Pope Francis and how his time as Pope will affect the Catholic Church, to which 75 million Americans belong. A rather surprising fact, though, is that of the 75 million American Catholics, more than 12 million of them were not born in the United States.
Pope Francis asked for prayers. What an awesome responsibility he has.
Have a wonderful day! I'll post something tomorrow, but then I am off to Cleveland for a visit with my sister.
Francis and his sister were from Assisi, a lovely area of Italy, and though extremely holy, Francis never did become a priest. As far as a local connection is concerned, the Poor Clares are the nuns who live at Sancta Clara on Market Avenue in Canton. The most famous Poor Clare is Mother Angelica, who did live at Sancta Clara and is from Canton.
Pope Francis appears to be very humble, and those who know him say that is so. He mingled with the people, rode the bus, and ashewed the trappings of being a Cardinal. His work was centered in Argentina, and he was born there, but the Italians are also celebrating because Pope Francis's father was Italian and emigrated to Argentina. He was a railroad worker.
As time goes by, we will learn much more about Pope Francis and how his time as Pope will affect the Catholic Church, to which 75 million Americans belong. A rather surprising fact, though, is that of the 75 million American Catholics, more than 12 million of them were not born in the United States.
Pope Francis asked for prayers. What an awesome responsibility he has.
Have a wonderful day! I'll post something tomorrow, but then I am off to Cleveland for a visit with my sister.
Wednesday, March 13, 2013
Tom and Jerry
Have you seen the cartoons lately? Not very impressive, that's for sure. Umizoomies or something like that! They don't even resemble humans half the time.
My daughter-in-law told me yesterday that she really liked Scooby Doo when she was a kid. It's on one of the cartoon networks these days, but quite different. She said that the one blond kid and blond girl always did seem to like one another years ago, but it wasn't the focus of the show. NOW, there is all this stuff going on between the characters and it is the focus of the show. So who is supposed to be watching?
I switched to one cartoon yesterday and it was so graphic and scary for Drew that it went bye-bye. Back to something that makes sense. A little violent, yes, but kids have been watching Looney Toons forever and most of these now grownup "kids" turned out decently enough.
So we're back to Tom and Jerry. That's Drew's favorite of the Looney Toons, although he happily watches Foghorn Leghorn, Sylvester and Tweety, or Bugs and Daffy just as well. The other day Bugs had a dilemma. He'd met a young lady at the tennis court and things moved just a little too fast, since without much warning in the cartoon, Bugs was in a tuxedo and his lady friend was in a bridal dress. Daffy didn't even know about it!! Well, at the last minute, the young lady admitted that she really didn't love Bugs at all, but rather the wedding planner (who happened to be a skunk). Got to love it.
However, I digress. During an earlier scene, Bugs carefully tries to break up with the lady friend when by all accounts she was stalking the unhappy rabbit, showing up everywhere. He kindly says the words to indicate he'd like to end things, and she goes absolutely nuts, crying and carrying on in amazing fashion. I actually laughed out loud, and so did Drew.
So TV viewers can have their Ommiezoomies or whatever it is. They can have their Scooby Doo. They can have their crazy alien space creatures blowing up the earth. We'll take Tom and Jerry every time. Drew said the other day, "Tom and Jerry aren't nice to the mouse." So I guess he thought the cat's name is Tom'nJerry. Pretty good, huh? I explained it. Grandmas have time for all that kind of stuff.
My daughter-in-law told me yesterday that she really liked Scooby Doo when she was a kid. It's on one of the cartoon networks these days, but quite different. She said that the one blond kid and blond girl always did seem to like one another years ago, but it wasn't the focus of the show. NOW, there is all this stuff going on between the characters and it is the focus of the show. So who is supposed to be watching?
I switched to one cartoon yesterday and it was so graphic and scary for Drew that it went bye-bye. Back to something that makes sense. A little violent, yes, but kids have been watching Looney Toons forever and most of these now grownup "kids" turned out decently enough.
So we're back to Tom and Jerry. That's Drew's favorite of the Looney Toons, although he happily watches Foghorn Leghorn, Sylvester and Tweety, or Bugs and Daffy just as well. The other day Bugs had a dilemma. He'd met a young lady at the tennis court and things moved just a little too fast, since without much warning in the cartoon, Bugs was in a tuxedo and his lady friend was in a bridal dress. Daffy didn't even know about it!! Well, at the last minute, the young lady admitted that she really didn't love Bugs at all, but rather the wedding planner (who happened to be a skunk). Got to love it.
However, I digress. During an earlier scene, Bugs carefully tries to break up with the lady friend when by all accounts she was stalking the unhappy rabbit, showing up everywhere. He kindly says the words to indicate he'd like to end things, and she goes absolutely nuts, crying and carrying on in amazing fashion. I actually laughed out loud, and so did Drew.
So TV viewers can have their Ommiezoomies or whatever it is. They can have their Scooby Doo. They can have their crazy alien space creatures blowing up the earth. We'll take Tom and Jerry every time. Drew said the other day, "Tom and Jerry aren't nice to the mouse." So I guess he thought the cat's name is Tom'nJerry. Pretty good, huh? I explained it. Grandmas have time for all that kind of stuff.
Tuesday, March 12, 2013
Tapped Out
Did you ever just feel tapped out? Well, I thought maybe it would be a good idea to write the blog post at the end of a long and tiring Monday so all I'd have to do is hit "publish" in the morning. But I am really tapped out.
Long but rewarding day. Lousy night's sleep Sunday night. Struggling wtih the time change and allergies!!
Today was the day to pick up the candle order at my granddaughter's school. The boxes were too large to send home with the kids. So we went over to Warstler School in Plain Township right around 11:45 (we being me and my oldest son, Mark). We planned it that way so we could surprise Ella by having lunch with her. Warstler has a policy where parents and family are always welcome to come at lunch time. All the children enjoy the visitors.
When we arrived, Ella was sitting at her desk busily working on her iPad and was completely unaware of our presence. One of those precious moments when you get to see someone you love so very much in a situation you've never seen her in before. She had her legs crossed ladylike and her hands looked so grownup as she pressed this button and that. Then she saw us and her face lit up like one of those home security lights.
Her classmates wondered if we would eat with them and we said, "Sure." They clapped and cheered. Here are some of the hightlights of this really fun visit:
One boy asked if we were "Ella's family." He asked if I was a grandmother, and noted that the "Mom's mom" works with his class at school (Grandma Sue volunteers). They served bananas for lunch. One boy used the banana like a phone and put it to his ear. My son borrowed it and began having a conversation. The kids were mesmerized. "No, I haven't seen any monkeys. Sure, I'll let you know if I see any." We were welcomed warmly by these children in a school where so often there seem to be no strangers. It is heartening, truly.
Everyone seems to know Ella and appreciate her. She seems to know everyone too. The boy with the banana phone offered Ella a Tater Tot and she gladly enjoyed it. Her classmates seem to look out for her in a natural and loving way.
Now I truly know what is special about Special Education.
Many people have prayed for Ella since her diagnosis of epilepsy nearly eight and a half years ago. People we know and many we don't joined in. She continues to progress, her seizures are under good control, and she has a sweetness that to me is the result of all of those prayers.
And I'm still tapped out, but by the time this is posted tomorrow, it will be a new day. A new day to work as though I am working for the Lord.
Long but rewarding day. Lousy night's sleep Sunday night. Struggling wtih the time change and allergies!!
Today was the day to pick up the candle order at my granddaughter's school. The boxes were too large to send home with the kids. So we went over to Warstler School in Plain Township right around 11:45 (we being me and my oldest son, Mark). We planned it that way so we could surprise Ella by having lunch with her. Warstler has a policy where parents and family are always welcome to come at lunch time. All the children enjoy the visitors.
When we arrived, Ella was sitting at her desk busily working on her iPad and was completely unaware of our presence. One of those precious moments when you get to see someone you love so very much in a situation you've never seen her in before. She had her legs crossed ladylike and her hands looked so grownup as she pressed this button and that. Then she saw us and her face lit up like one of those home security lights.
Her classmates wondered if we would eat with them and we said, "Sure." They clapped and cheered. Here are some of the hightlights of this really fun visit:
One boy asked if we were "Ella's family." He asked if I was a grandmother, and noted that the "Mom's mom" works with his class at school (Grandma Sue volunteers). They served bananas for lunch. One boy used the banana like a phone and put it to his ear. My son borrowed it and began having a conversation. The kids were mesmerized. "No, I haven't seen any monkeys. Sure, I'll let you know if I see any." We were welcomed warmly by these children in a school where so often there seem to be no strangers. It is heartening, truly.
Everyone seems to know Ella and appreciate her. She seems to know everyone too. The boy with the banana phone offered Ella a Tater Tot and she gladly enjoyed it. Her classmates seem to look out for her in a natural and loving way.
Now I truly know what is special about Special Education.
Many people have prayed for Ella since her diagnosis of epilepsy nearly eight and a half years ago. People we know and many we don't joined in. She continues to progress, her seizures are under good control, and she has a sweetness that to me is the result of all of those prayers.
And I'm still tapped out, but by the time this is posted tomorrow, it will be a new day. A new day to work as though I am working for the Lord.
Saturday, March 9, 2013
It's a Wrap
This will be an olio of different topics today, because it's Saturday and I'm wrapping up another week and my mind is a web of thoughts.
The first topic: University of Akron Basketball. Yesterday morning after posting the latest blog, I learned that the starting point guard for UA had been arrested Thursday for possession and sale of marijuana -- five pounds of it. UA played Kent last night in a match that is always highly contested. UA was poised to win the MAC tournament and many had the team picked to make it to the NCAA tournament this year. Now this. The second string point guard is Carmelo Betancourt. And I was really cheering for him, as well as the fine team that Keith Dambrot has assembled. As for Alex -- what a total waste!! And he should have known better and had more respect for his own skill and for his teammates. His undoing was almost predictable -- of late it would seem to me that he had become rather full of himself. Oh, and Kent won 68-64. I wonder if Alex thinks the money he made was worth it now.
The second topic: crafting. Another trip to Joanne's this week and I was looking for something as usual. The store is large and sometimes I wish there were a map. At any rate, in one of the aisles I encountered a husband/wife team. My first inclination was to figure the husband was a tag-along for his wife's crafting. Soon, however, as their discussion went on for a bit, it was clear that he was the crafter and that he was looking for something. Okay -- here comes the punch line. They were in the embroidery aisle. And don't send me an email saying that the best embroiderers in the world are men, because I don't buy it.
The third and final topic: Thanks for your readership. Do me a little favor if you can. Pass along the blog site to anyone who might want to read it. Sell it to them as a pick-em-up at the start of the day kind of thing. Remember the handy little way to find it, photos and all: http://nelsenkt.blogspot.com. I'm thinking of adding some advertising to the blog and probably need some more readership. That would be my guess anyhow.
Well, I fibbed. There is one more topic. The craft room, in case you are wondering, is almost done. Final photos will be taken this week and I'm certain to have them for you next week. It is turning out nicely. I have lots of storage and display space too. It makes doing a project so much more fun and clean up is so much easier!!
Take care, fine folks. See you on Tuesday morning. Enjoy the warm weather this weekend.
Karen
The first topic: University of Akron Basketball. Yesterday morning after posting the latest blog, I learned that the starting point guard for UA had been arrested Thursday for possession and sale of marijuana -- five pounds of it. UA played Kent last night in a match that is always highly contested. UA was poised to win the MAC tournament and many had the team picked to make it to the NCAA tournament this year. Now this. The second string point guard is Carmelo Betancourt. And I was really cheering for him, as well as the fine team that Keith Dambrot has assembled. As for Alex -- what a total waste!! And he should have known better and had more respect for his own skill and for his teammates. His undoing was almost predictable -- of late it would seem to me that he had become rather full of himself. Oh, and Kent won 68-64. I wonder if Alex thinks the money he made was worth it now.
The second topic: crafting. Another trip to Joanne's this week and I was looking for something as usual. The store is large and sometimes I wish there were a map. At any rate, in one of the aisles I encountered a husband/wife team. My first inclination was to figure the husband was a tag-along for his wife's crafting. Soon, however, as their discussion went on for a bit, it was clear that he was the crafter and that he was looking for something. Okay -- here comes the punch line. They were in the embroidery aisle. And don't send me an email saying that the best embroiderers in the world are men, because I don't buy it.
The third and final topic: Thanks for your readership. Do me a little favor if you can. Pass along the blog site to anyone who might want to read it. Sell it to them as a pick-em-up at the start of the day kind of thing. Remember the handy little way to find it, photos and all: http://nelsenkt.blogspot.com. I'm thinking of adding some advertising to the blog and probably need some more readership. That would be my guess anyhow.
Well, I fibbed. There is one more topic. The craft room, in case you are wondering, is almost done. Final photos will be taken this week and I'm certain to have them for you next week. It is turning out nicely. I have lots of storage and display space too. It makes doing a project so much more fun and clean up is so much easier!!
Take care, fine folks. See you on Tuesday morning. Enjoy the warm weather this weekend.
Karen
Friday, March 8, 2013
Eyes
Today the Canal Fulton Lions Club is doing eye testing at the Canal Fulton Primary School. The children being tested will enter kindergarten in the fall.
What a lot of people might not know is that the Lions Clubs are focused on the eyes and the prevention of blindness. Eye testing is part of that mission. Within the last couple of years, innovations in eye screening have brought revolutionary changes. The device scans the eyes in low light and gives readings on five different areas of concern: farsightedness, nearsightedness, astigmatism, lazy eye, and gaze problems. It also suggests a possible prescription.
The device is called a "camera" but it doesn't actually take a picture of the eyes in the traditional sense. The child only has to sit on a chair and be still for a few seconds and it's done. A router sends a signal to the printer and a summary copy of the results is printed out for the school and/or parents.
The cost of this camera is about $7,000. It might sound like a lot of money, but what a wonderful thing!! The Lions in this community have found many cases of lazy eye which must be corrected in the earlier grades or the damage becomes permanent. The beauty of it, though, is in preschoolers who may not even be able to participate in the usual eye screening. They have screened children as young as 18 months, and one of those children it turns out needed glasses. They have used it for special needs children as well, and this has been an exceptional assistance.
Other screening devices are now being used by optometrists to get a more precise measurement for glasses or contacts. This verifies information that the doctor can get from the usual testing, and in time, the usual testing may be phased out. That would be my guess.
Our eyes are such a gift!! And I think the Lions have a very important mission. Please support them when you can.
What a lot of people might not know is that the Lions Clubs are focused on the eyes and the prevention of blindness. Eye testing is part of that mission. Within the last couple of years, innovations in eye screening have brought revolutionary changes. The device scans the eyes in low light and gives readings on five different areas of concern: farsightedness, nearsightedness, astigmatism, lazy eye, and gaze problems. It also suggests a possible prescription.
The device is called a "camera" but it doesn't actually take a picture of the eyes in the traditional sense. The child only has to sit on a chair and be still for a few seconds and it's done. A router sends a signal to the printer and a summary copy of the results is printed out for the school and/or parents.
The cost of this camera is about $7,000. It might sound like a lot of money, but what a wonderful thing!! The Lions in this community have found many cases of lazy eye which must be corrected in the earlier grades or the damage becomes permanent. The beauty of it, though, is in preschoolers who may not even be able to participate in the usual eye screening. They have screened children as young as 18 months, and one of those children it turns out needed glasses. They have used it for special needs children as well, and this has been an exceptional assistance.
Other screening devices are now being used by optometrists to get a more precise measurement for glasses or contacts. This verifies information that the doctor can get from the usual testing, and in time, the usual testing may be phased out. That would be my guess.
Our eyes are such a gift!! And I think the Lions have a very important mission. Please support them when you can.
Thursday, March 7, 2013
Part Two
Continued from Wednesday ...
In 1986 at Akron City Hospital, I had a roommate, Barbara. She had surgery for Crohn's Disease the morning after I did and we shared our space for probably ten days.
Barbara was married to Bill and they had grown children. They lived in Randolph, a lovely little rural community which seemed to suit Barbara very well. She was a country girl through and through. During the time when Barbara was in the hospital, people from her church stopped by, and they really were witnesses to the power of the Christian faith to transform. True, many of them were already on the floor visiting a young man who had been involved in a car-train accident, but nonetheless, they came.
It seemed to me as though Barbara came through her surgery very well. She was discharged the day before me, and so for a little while, until Sunday night, there was no one. Then an older woman, heavy set, was wheeled in. She lived in a trailer park, and I learned while not meaning to eavesdrop, the story of her recent life experiences. That same night a resident came in to take her history. Who would think that it would have played out like a comedy scene from Saturday Night Live?
The poor woman was hard of hearing and so the resident tried to make her voice as loud as she could, "How old are you?" The woman gave an answer, but it was never the answer to the question the resident asked, and in fact, it was a complete accounting of how she found herself at City Hospital. "Waaal, I was in the toilet and I tried to stand up. Theeen, I fell down and I tried to get up, but I couldn't." The resident tried again, "So have you had any surgeries?" The woman spoke right up, "And theennn, I called and called. I laid there for a long time until my neighbor finally heard me."
The resident and another hospital employee started laughing at some point, and they couldn't stop. They tried, they really did, but between the woman's story telling and her bit of a southern twang, it was impossible not to react. I know I did. My stitches were healed up pretty well, but I gave them a good test and by the time it was over, there were tears of laughter running down my cheeks. Laughter, it is certainly true, is GOOD for the soul.
After the resident left, they brought the woman a roast beef sandwich and something to drink. She had to lie flat on her back to eat, so I got up and helped her arrange the sandwich on top of her chest, and I fixed the straw so she could get her drink. Then I got back in bed. After spending all that time on the bathroom floor, she must have really been hungry because at that point, it sounded like wild animals had come into the room and had found a stash. It's a good thing the doctor and her assistant were gone by that point because the laughter would have started all over again. But the woman was such a sweet, sweet lady, and so happy with whatever life brought her, moment to moment.
The next morning, I left the hospital. My roommate was off to some other area of the hospital having tests and such. They knew she had broken a bone in her back. I didn't get to say goodbye, but I thought of her often.
Barbara lost her battle with Crohn's Disease. Her daughter sent me a note when my Christmas card arrived one year, and her mother had gone onto to her reward. Whenever Randolph comes up, the first thing that comes to mind is Barbara.
Funny how we go through life and meet up with folks in all kinds of places. When I see young people walking around in a fog on their cell phones, I want to scream, "You are missing a huge chunk of life on that thing!! Hang up and experience the world."
In 1986 at Akron City Hospital, I had a roommate, Barbara. She had surgery for Crohn's Disease the morning after I did and we shared our space for probably ten days.
Barbara was married to Bill and they had grown children. They lived in Randolph, a lovely little rural community which seemed to suit Barbara very well. She was a country girl through and through. During the time when Barbara was in the hospital, people from her church stopped by, and they really were witnesses to the power of the Christian faith to transform. True, many of them were already on the floor visiting a young man who had been involved in a car-train accident, but nonetheless, they came.
It seemed to me as though Barbara came through her surgery very well. She was discharged the day before me, and so for a little while, until Sunday night, there was no one. Then an older woman, heavy set, was wheeled in. She lived in a trailer park, and I learned while not meaning to eavesdrop, the story of her recent life experiences. That same night a resident came in to take her history. Who would think that it would have played out like a comedy scene from Saturday Night Live?
The poor woman was hard of hearing and so the resident tried to make her voice as loud as she could, "How old are you?" The woman gave an answer, but it was never the answer to the question the resident asked, and in fact, it was a complete accounting of how she found herself at City Hospital. "Waaal, I was in the toilet and I tried to stand up. Theeen, I fell down and I tried to get up, but I couldn't." The resident tried again, "So have you had any surgeries?" The woman spoke right up, "And theennn, I called and called. I laid there for a long time until my neighbor finally heard me."
The resident and another hospital employee started laughing at some point, and they couldn't stop. They tried, they really did, but between the woman's story telling and her bit of a southern twang, it was impossible not to react. I know I did. My stitches were healed up pretty well, but I gave them a good test and by the time it was over, there were tears of laughter running down my cheeks. Laughter, it is certainly true, is GOOD for the soul.
After the resident left, they brought the woman a roast beef sandwich and something to drink. She had to lie flat on her back to eat, so I got up and helped her arrange the sandwich on top of her chest, and I fixed the straw so she could get her drink. Then I got back in bed. After spending all that time on the bathroom floor, she must have really been hungry because at that point, it sounded like wild animals had come into the room and had found a stash. It's a good thing the doctor and her assistant were gone by that point because the laughter would have started all over again. But the woman was such a sweet, sweet lady, and so happy with whatever life brought her, moment to moment.
The next morning, I left the hospital. My roommate was off to some other area of the hospital having tests and such. They knew she had broken a bone in her back. I didn't get to say goodbye, but I thought of her often.
Barbara lost her battle with Crohn's Disease. Her daughter sent me a note when my Christmas card arrived one year, and her mother had gone onto to her reward. Whenever Randolph comes up, the first thing that comes to mind is Barbara.
Funny how we go through life and meet up with folks in all kinds of places. When I see young people walking around in a fog on their cell phones, I want to scream, "You are missing a huge chunk of life on that thing!! Hang up and experience the world."
Wednesday, March 6, 2013
Doctoring
Hello friends. I'm a little late getting this blog going this morning because I had a doctor's appointment. No big deal, just the usual visit for prescriptions and a "howdy do."
Over the years, many doctors have helped me through life's little problems. I salute them. They showed patience, a sense of humor, knowledge, and a willingness to listen. Dr. Kelly, a surgeon, was certainly one of them. This guy was a special practitioner. He has gone on to his heavenly reward now, but he was highly respected in Akron at City Hospital (now Summa). Dr. Kelly did my surgery for Crohn's Disease in 1986.
At one point while doing the rounds at the hospital, he spoke to me about how I was kind of like an old horse. Yep. Honestly. The resident who accompanied him just about fell off the chair because he could not fathom this kind of bedside manner. But it was effective, and I treasured Dr. Kelly. His expertise made me physically whole again and he probably did the same for countless patients over the course of his career. The psychological and spiritual wholeness was another recovery that took a lot more time.
One little aggravation in the hospital was the tea. Their tea did not taste like my tea at home, and I really missed it. So my husband dutifully brought me some tea bags from home. Guess what? It wasn't the tea!! Maybe some of you have had that same experience from the anesthesia or medication or whatever. Things just don't taste right for a while.
Maybe tomorrow I'll tell you about my roommate, Barbara, and some of the other things that happened at the hospital. I was there for TWO WEEKS. Nobody stays for two weeks after surgery anymore, even if they go home with a pole and an IV line still attached.
Blogging must be good for a body. Dr. Rucki is very, very pleased with me today. And I'm pleased to be able to write this to you, friends. Enjoy some sunshine today.
Over the years, many doctors have helped me through life's little problems. I salute them. They showed patience, a sense of humor, knowledge, and a willingness to listen. Dr. Kelly, a surgeon, was certainly one of them. This guy was a special practitioner. He has gone on to his heavenly reward now, but he was highly respected in Akron at City Hospital (now Summa). Dr. Kelly did my surgery for Crohn's Disease in 1986.
At one point while doing the rounds at the hospital, he spoke to me about how I was kind of like an old horse. Yep. Honestly. The resident who accompanied him just about fell off the chair because he could not fathom this kind of bedside manner. But it was effective, and I treasured Dr. Kelly. His expertise made me physically whole again and he probably did the same for countless patients over the course of his career. The psychological and spiritual wholeness was another recovery that took a lot more time.
One little aggravation in the hospital was the tea. Their tea did not taste like my tea at home, and I really missed it. So my husband dutifully brought me some tea bags from home. Guess what? It wasn't the tea!! Maybe some of you have had that same experience from the anesthesia or medication or whatever. Things just don't taste right for a while.
Maybe tomorrow I'll tell you about my roommate, Barbara, and some of the other things that happened at the hospital. I was there for TWO WEEKS. Nobody stays for two weeks after surgery anymore, even if they go home with a pole and an IV line still attached.
Blogging must be good for a body. Dr. Rucki is very, very pleased with me today. And I'm pleased to be able to write this to you, friends. Enjoy some sunshine today.
Tuesday, March 5, 2013
Holy Cross
Yesterday marked the 52nd anniversary of my mother's death. In another nine and a half months, she will have been gone longer than she was alive on this earth. She was 52 years old and at the time, it seemed like a fairly old age.
My mother was a wonderful person. She was musically inclined; she could grow anything inside the house and outside; she was very funny; she could tailor clothing; and, she was an excellent baker and cook. Wow! But what made her special to me was how kind she was to everyone. If the blind man came selling his wares, like brooms and dish cloths, she would have him come in the house and sit down in the living room. She always bought something, even if our kitchen broom was still new from his last visit. She was open to people and enjoyed hearing about others' lives. She was incredibly trusting and welcoming.
She wasn't perfect. Since I was only 14 when she died, the tendency is there to make her so, but that isn't right or fair. One thing she stressed about our faith is that the ten commandments are the key to it, and if we just work at following these commandments, we would do well.
Some years ago, my husband and I decided to make the trip to the two cemeteries where our parents are buried. First, we went to Greenlawn Cemetery near Rolling Acres. His mother, father, and step-father are all buried there. Jorgen Herman Nelsen came from Denmark and settled in the USA and died at the age of 52 in his sleep. His mother married "Red" Elliott and he died first, and then her. They were good people and they are missed.
Next, we traveled to Cleveland to Holy Cross Cemetery just off Brookpark Road. I knew the section number (Section 15) for my mother's grave and that she was closest to the St. Anne statue there. We found that soon enough, but after looking for a while I was really starting to worry that we would not find the grave at all. My husband (knowing that it is a challenge for me to locate business establishments in the Belden Village area) said he would just drive around the corner to make sure we were on the correct side of Section 15. So I was alone.
There were some cemetery workers there, unloading chairs for a burial service that day. It was scorching hot and everything was as dry as could be. I stood there glancing about when all of the sudden a whirlwind started up near the workers. They stopped working and pointed to it. And it was moving towards me, so I shielded my eyes and face since the whirlwind had caught up the dried leaves, grass and dirt within its midst. It engulfed me and then went downward towards the road. I followed the path that the whirlwind had taken, don't know why, and there was my mother's grave. When my husband came back, he found me kneeling there and crying. It was a very, very real touch from God and of my mother. It felt like pure love.
How much God loves us!! How much God showers us with his mercy!!
My mother was a wonderful person. She was musically inclined; she could grow anything inside the house and outside; she was very funny; she could tailor clothing; and, she was an excellent baker and cook. Wow! But what made her special to me was how kind she was to everyone. If the blind man came selling his wares, like brooms and dish cloths, she would have him come in the house and sit down in the living room. She always bought something, even if our kitchen broom was still new from his last visit. She was open to people and enjoyed hearing about others' lives. She was incredibly trusting and welcoming.
She wasn't perfect. Since I was only 14 when she died, the tendency is there to make her so, but that isn't right or fair. One thing she stressed about our faith is that the ten commandments are the key to it, and if we just work at following these commandments, we would do well.
Some years ago, my husband and I decided to make the trip to the two cemeteries where our parents are buried. First, we went to Greenlawn Cemetery near Rolling Acres. His mother, father, and step-father are all buried there. Jorgen Herman Nelsen came from Denmark and settled in the USA and died at the age of 52 in his sleep. His mother married "Red" Elliott and he died first, and then her. They were good people and they are missed.
Next, we traveled to Cleveland to Holy Cross Cemetery just off Brookpark Road. I knew the section number (Section 15) for my mother's grave and that she was closest to the St. Anne statue there. We found that soon enough, but after looking for a while I was really starting to worry that we would not find the grave at all. My husband (knowing that it is a challenge for me to locate business establishments in the Belden Village area) said he would just drive around the corner to make sure we were on the correct side of Section 15. So I was alone.
There were some cemetery workers there, unloading chairs for a burial service that day. It was scorching hot and everything was as dry as could be. I stood there glancing about when all of the sudden a whirlwind started up near the workers. They stopped working and pointed to it. And it was moving towards me, so I shielded my eyes and face since the whirlwind had caught up the dried leaves, grass and dirt within its midst. It engulfed me and then went downward towards the road. I followed the path that the whirlwind had taken, don't know why, and there was my mother's grave. When my husband came back, he found me kneeling there and crying. It was a very, very real touch from God and of my mother. It felt like pure love.
How much God loves us!! How much God showers us with his mercy!!
Saturday, March 2, 2013
A Sense of Humor
An amazing amount of synergy can come from a small group of women. Synergy is a secular word for the energy that is created by people in different settings. Or at least that's my definition.
I was part of a small group Catholic women's group some years back. There was no agenda for our meetings, but we usually began with music. Every member of the group had a chance to contribute to the conversations as the morning went along.
When I am in a small group, what often happens is that I think of something funny. I don't know why; that's just the way it is. And I'd offer up my story for the group's pleasure. Most of them seemed to truly enjoy the chance to loosen up and let go a little bit. One person, not so much. I think she felt that spiritual discussions should be entirely serious. Maybe what can be wrong with spiritual discussions sometimes is that they are entirely serious.
We come with a sense of humor. It's part of our makeup, and it's a delightful gift from our creator. The laughing Jesus picture is a favorite of many, because Jesus is shown enjoying Himself, like he undoubtedly did many, many times with his apostles and with townsfolk wherever they went. His little humorous jab about pointing out the faults of others once you remove the "log" from yours is actually funny. It could have been written, "splinter," but that wouldn't have drawn as much attention to this important story. Told with humor, it had more impact. It related to the people more.
The other day I met a woman for the first time. She is a good story teller, and a fine Christian lady. She told about how her husband became the music director for their church, and most of the story was splattered with humor. She not only kept our attention with the use of humor; she drew us in and made it a deep spiritual moment as well. The crux of the humor was that her husband's musical experiences were at karaoke bars. I loved her story!! More importantly, I will remember it.
We kind of go along in life sometimes like pressure cookers. There is stress and concern; there are hard times and sad times. The relief valve at the top is our sense of humor.
When I was working at the University, we'd go through this short period of time each semester when students needed to see an advisor about their schedules. The advisors were on the 4th floor of the building and there was one slow elevator. Soon there were students everywhere in the lobby waiting for their turn and growing very disgruntled. One of the faculty members went to the library and got out some Saturday Night Live tapes. You know, the old ones with John Belushi and Gilda Radner. He took our TV/VCR downstairs and set it up.
Amazing. The students relaxed; they laughed. In many cases, I think they actually hated to leave to go upstairs. Sometimes after they came back down, they headed back to the TV again.
A sense of humor. Thank you, God, for this great gift.
I was part of a small group Catholic women's group some years back. There was no agenda for our meetings, but we usually began with music. Every member of the group had a chance to contribute to the conversations as the morning went along.
When I am in a small group, what often happens is that I think of something funny. I don't know why; that's just the way it is. And I'd offer up my story for the group's pleasure. Most of them seemed to truly enjoy the chance to loosen up and let go a little bit. One person, not so much. I think she felt that spiritual discussions should be entirely serious. Maybe what can be wrong with spiritual discussions sometimes is that they are entirely serious.
We come with a sense of humor. It's part of our makeup, and it's a delightful gift from our creator. The laughing Jesus picture is a favorite of many, because Jesus is shown enjoying Himself, like he undoubtedly did many, many times with his apostles and with townsfolk wherever they went. His little humorous jab about pointing out the faults of others once you remove the "log" from yours is actually funny. It could have been written, "splinter," but that wouldn't have drawn as much attention to this important story. Told with humor, it had more impact. It related to the people more.
The other day I met a woman for the first time. She is a good story teller, and a fine Christian lady. She told about how her husband became the music director for their church, and most of the story was splattered with humor. She not only kept our attention with the use of humor; she drew us in and made it a deep spiritual moment as well. The crux of the humor was that her husband's musical experiences were at karaoke bars. I loved her story!! More importantly, I will remember it.
We kind of go along in life sometimes like pressure cookers. There is stress and concern; there are hard times and sad times. The relief valve at the top is our sense of humor.
When I was working at the University, we'd go through this short period of time each semester when students needed to see an advisor about their schedules. The advisors were on the 4th floor of the building and there was one slow elevator. Soon there were students everywhere in the lobby waiting for their turn and growing very disgruntled. One of the faculty members went to the library and got out some Saturday Night Live tapes. You know, the old ones with John Belushi and Gilda Radner. He took our TV/VCR downstairs and set it up.
Amazing. The students relaxed; they laughed. In many cases, I think they actually hated to leave to go upstairs. Sometimes after they came back down, they headed back to the TV again.
A sense of humor. Thank you, God, for this great gift.
Friday, March 1, 2013
Pornography
A teen beauty queen has been stripped of her title because pageant officlals learned that last summer she participated in a porn movie. There was a heated debate on the afternoon news yesterday about this decision and about the culpability of this 18-year-old who held the title of Miss Delaware Teen USA.
One voiced her opinion that the young woman should not be held responsible because she grew up in the foster system, and when she was offered the money she could not understand that it was wrong. Another voiced her opinion that it was certainly a wrong decision but that given the girl's circumstances, leniency might have been better.
When the girl was asked why she had agreed to such a thing, she said, "Well, it sounded like fun." In tweets, she commented, "Be strong, life has a funny way of working out. Kim K made it and now is one of the most powerful women in the US." She refers to Kim Kardashian whose raunchy video with Ray J propelled her to notoriety. She followed up by saying, "Everybody makes bad decisions. Nobodies perfect."
The first runner-up will now hold the title of Miss Delaware Teen USA, and the deposed winner has been offered $250,000 to be a spokesperson for a porn site.
So on the one hand, she seems to be saying that she made a bad decision, and on the other hand, she seems to be saying that she may be following right in Kim Kardashian's footsteps toward a position of power. I wasn't aware that Ms. Kardashian had any power, other than apparently to mislead the youth of the country like many others before her.
Well, the only power that is conferred in the pornography industry has nothing to do with the spokespersons or the actors. And ultimately, when we are 18 years old, we are considered well old enough to be accountable for our decisions. There is the road that leads to the ideals that most beauty pageants claim to promote, and there is the road that leads to destruction. She picked one of them, but I pray that this young woman comes around and figures this thing out. We know that she always has that choice. Don't you worry for the youth of our country?
There was that old song, "Where have all the flowers gone ..." Where have all the morals gone?
The love of money, root of all evil, right? The Bible tells it truthfully.
Who, by the way, is Ray J?
One voiced her opinion that the young woman should not be held responsible because she grew up in the foster system, and when she was offered the money she could not understand that it was wrong. Another voiced her opinion that it was certainly a wrong decision but that given the girl's circumstances, leniency might have been better.
When the girl was asked why she had agreed to such a thing, she said, "Well, it sounded like fun." In tweets, she commented, "Be strong, life has a funny way of working out. Kim K made it and now is one of the most powerful women in the US." She refers to Kim Kardashian whose raunchy video with Ray J propelled her to notoriety. She followed up by saying, "Everybody makes bad decisions. Nobodies perfect."
The first runner-up will now hold the title of Miss Delaware Teen USA, and the deposed winner has been offered $250,000 to be a spokesperson for a porn site.
So on the one hand, she seems to be saying that she made a bad decision, and on the other hand, she seems to be saying that she may be following right in Kim Kardashian's footsteps toward a position of power. I wasn't aware that Ms. Kardashian had any power, other than apparently to mislead the youth of the country like many others before her.
Well, the only power that is conferred in the pornography industry has nothing to do with the spokespersons or the actors. And ultimately, when we are 18 years old, we are considered well old enough to be accountable for our decisions. There is the road that leads to the ideals that most beauty pageants claim to promote, and there is the road that leads to destruction. She picked one of them, but I pray that this young woman comes around and figures this thing out. We know that she always has that choice. Don't you worry for the youth of our country?
There was that old song, "Where have all the flowers gone ..." Where have all the morals gone?
The love of money, root of all evil, right? The Bible tells it truthfully.
Who, by the way, is Ray J?
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