A November of thankfulness... day one

My friend, Margaret, is blogging “Thankful November” listing her gratitude from throughout her day. I’ve enjoyed it and decided to copy her. Thanks for the inspiration Margaret!


Today, November 1, 2010, I am thankful for …

…midmorning naps- even if they are on the living room floor in front of the fireplace. I’ve been working so much lately that this day of idleness is few and far between. I enjoy the paint and texture, etc. work, but not the pressure I put on myself to get in and get it done and get out. When you’re doing it as a “favor” the urgency to finish so quickly isn’t as great. I think I’ll go back to work tomorrow. All I did was lay around all day and hurt. At least when I’m working, I get loosened up and my arthritis works itself out… mostly.

…caller id on Election Day eve. Campaign calls were in the double digits today. (Not a good day for a nap.) But thankful for the democracy that I live in and the freedom to go to the polls tomorrow. And for the rural area in which I live=no poll lines or exit polls.

…cooking and eating together as a family and sharing lots of stories and laughs around the supper table. Also thankful for our guest, Aunt Linda, and her recent move to our town. We welcome her with open arms and pray that she settles in to her new home and community with ease. I drove up on her visiting with her neighbor this evening. This is a good thing.

…the health our family has had over the past year since going gluten free and mostly dairy free. I haven’t had a sick child in so long that our doctor probably doesn’t even know we still consider him our doctor anymore! But then Regan was feeling pretty puny tonight. If she doesn’t wake up much improved, we will call it a sick day tomorrow. Sigh. So much for our healthy streak. Oh well, we did dodge the swine flu last year when it was so close to home. However, I am ready for a freeze to knock the pollen down and let us get over the excess drainage.

…remembering that I’m the tooth fairy and I need to pay Rayne a visit tonight! And that she pulled it herself and I didn’t have to pay the dentist to do it for us!

A boy named Shad...

There once was a boy named Shad …whom I loved.

Recently, I’ve started doing some painting- fixing up old houses, and the place I was in last week was chock full of memories from my childhood. People and places I hadn’t given much thought to in years…. like 20 years or so. But Shad was a name that kept coming up by others in conversation and a face that kept coming to my mind. I had learned from the owner that the house I was painting had been last painted by Shad. During the week when I was patching some sheetrock, out of the blue a fellow worker at the house commented that he’d never met anyone as meticulous as Shad when it came to drywall. Mudding and sanding, mudding and sanding, mudding and sanding to perfection. I’m sure my patchwork paled in comparison to Shad’s attention to detail. I spent about 50 hours in that house and in those memories... sorting, analyzing, recalling things buried in my past.

Shad is a part of my past. He’s gone now… a self-inflicted gunshot wound. But I have always wondered how much different his life had been if he’d just gotten a lucky break once in awhile or if he didn’t always live out Murphy’s Law…. you know the one: anything that can go wrong, will go wrong. I wonder how different his life would have been if he’d been born into a situation with opportunity, resources, a support system, and self-confidence. Shad never knew his worth. Deep down, he always felt inferior. He was born to a single mom who did her best... I don’t condemn his mother at all.

From the time we were kids, I always wanted to rescue Shad. I wanted him to have what I had. I remember the times he would wake me up in the middle of the night, tapping on my window, and I’d let him in to sleep on my floor. I knew he'd be safe there.  Or the times in school when I’d turn my body just so for him to copy my test answers. I didn’t want him to fail. He wasn’t stupid; he just didn’t think he could, so he didn’t try. Eventually, he got tired of my mothering, and he would just a soon pick a fight with me than to see my pity for him. He was so infectious with his snaggle-tooth smile (I was there when he broke his tooth off on armer Mel's pick up) and his personality that even when he’d push my buttons just enough for my pity to evaporate, soon we’d be pals again. I loved him very much and I was very afraid for him, too. I guess that was well-founded. Over the years we pretty much lost touch. I couldn’t help him. I didn’t have the power. Oh Shad, I want to wring your neck. It didn’t have to be this way, but I guess neither of us knew how to fix it. I count this as loss.  Happy would-have-been-birthday, Shad.

I forgive but I'll never forget...

I forgive but I’ll never forget. What is that? Is that really forgiveness? Do we want to be forgiven that way? “I forgive you, but I’m going to hold your offense over your head for the rest of your life and use it to measure everything you ever try to accomplish.”   What that says is “I will not forgive.”

What’s forgivable and what’s not? Time and again I see polls asking the public if they could forgive a cheater. Have you ever caught an episode of Cheaters on late night tv? …a camera crew and the scorned spouse/mate hiding out for the moment of discovery and all the drama that plays out in the confrontation… add the hype of reality television. It’s a very sad, sad situation. Likewise, in these polls, the overwhelming consensus on the question of a cheating spouse is no way, no forgiveness. Everything is forgivable. More than once, women in my life have had to deal with infidelity. Some stayed, some did not. Some chose to forgive while some just chose to stay and daily swallow that bitter pill of unforgiveness.

Personally, I know a little bit about forgiveness. I was the one in need of redemption. I strayed. While dating, I broke up with Rodney and married someone else. Two very-long-miserable years later I returned, much like the prodigal son, and just like the father to his son, Rodney welcomed me home with love and thankfulness. And the rest is history because, and only because, Rodney forgave me and forgot about it. In his limited (human) love for me, he gave me the gift of forgiveness and something as close to unconditional love as this human world can know. Never in our 15 years back together has he ever thrown it in my face or used it against me as ammunition in an argument. We don’t talk about it. It almost didn’t happen. Why do I tell you this? I know what it means to be forgiven. It has taught me to grant forgiveness freely and quickly. I have a friend who tramples me fairly often and it makes Rodney crazy that I allow it. Ironic, I know; I guess he wants to protect me from the hurt. But I love her, and I have already forgotten the last transgression before the next transgression occurs. It’s a choice. I love my friend and I’m not a doormat. I just choose to love, and I choose to forgive and forget.

When women confide in me that they are unhappy, many times it stems from unforgiveness. Unforgiveness and true happiness cannot coexist within someone. Harboring unforgiveness in your heart makes you the loser. You lose out on life and love and intimacy and joy… and fun and wholeness and security and blessing… everything good God wants for you. If you cannot forgive, you might as well set your spouse free from their life sentence of your unforgiveness and get a divorce. And I would never recommend divorce ESPECIALLY if there are children in the marriage. This is worthy of a blog post in its own: Parents should NOT DIVORCE because… The alternative to divorce is to let go of self and make room for love and restoration. I forgive doesn’t say “it’s okay that you hurt me and please do it again”.   I forgive doesn’t say “I’m weak”.   I forgive says, “I choose to do this for my own well being”.   I forgive says, “nothing is going to keep me in bondage and rob my joy”.   I forgive says, “I know that I am forgiven”.

This week in church, Pastor James shared with us the story of Hosea and Gomer… quite a love story, right? With a name like Gomer, it can’t be good… If you don’t know the story, here’s a quick synopsis: God instructs Hosea to marry a prostitute (he chooses Gomer) and have children with her. Eventually she leaves Hosea and goes back to other men thus completely breaking Hosea’s heart. In time Hosea buys her back from her master and takes her home where she belongs. He continues to love her. He’s loved her the whole time despite the hard truth. The message for us in this? God loves us in this way—he goes after us at our worst until he gets us and makes lovers of men and women who know nothing of real love. And once we absorb this story and the words that flow from it, we will know God far more accurately…from The Message Bible. The point? Gomer wasn’t worthy. I wasn’t worthy. My girlfriend isn’t worthy. Your spouse isn’t worthy. None are worthy, yet God pursues us anyway. Forgiveness is a choice. It’s not contingent on feeling. i.e. I feel like I can forgive… We are commanded to forgive and the consequences of unforgiveness is devastating both here on earth and in heaven.

Paul wrote to the Corinthians that they should forgive… if anyone has caused grief, he has not so much grieved me as he has grieved all of you, to some extent—not to put it too severely. The punishment inflicted on him by the majority is sufficient for him. Now instead, you ought to forgive and comfort him, so that he will not be overwhelmed by excessive sorrow. I urge you, therefore, to reaffirm your love for him. The reason I wrote you was to see if you would stand the test and be obedient in everything. If you forgive anyone, I also forgive him. And what I have forgiven—if there was anything to forgive—I have forgiven in the sight of Christ for your sake, in order that Satan might not outwit us. For we are not unaware of his schemes.

Peter came to Jesus in Matthew 18 and asked, "Lord, how many times shall I forgive my brother when he sins against me? Up to seven times?" Jesus answered, "I tell you, not seven times, but seventy times seven.”

And Paul also said, "Be kind one to another, tender-hearted, forgiving one another, even as God for Christ's sake has forgiven you" (Eph. 4:32). "Bear with each other and forgive whatever grievances you may have against one another. Forgive as the Lord forgave you.” (Col. 3:13).

And by the way... I have lived in 27 houses.  :)

Gypsy girl crosses old paths...

July 29, 2010:  Driving up I-44 just past Springfield, Missouri, (my birthplace) on our way to the funeral in Ohio, I realized that we were getting ready to drive by Marshfield, Missouri.  I attended school there... twice.  Not two days, two different grades... half of kindergarten and half of second grade.  It was a very dark night both ways when we drove through Marshfield so I didn't really see anything I recognized.  The 76 service station that I remember being at that exit is either gone or changed to something else and completely unfamiliar.  As I drove by in the dark, still not believing that I was really driving to Ohio, I realized that by driving through (by) Marshfield, I had driven within 22 miles of all the schools I ever attended within the last 30 days.  Big deal, right?  Actually it kinda is.  I attended 5 different primary schools and one college in my life time and two of the primary schools I attended twice, like Marshfield. 

July 5, 2010:  When I left Des Monies, Iowa, after my grandmother's 80th birthday party and drove up to Austin, Minnesota, I was within 11 miles of the Southland school district where I also went to elementary school in Rose Creek two different times... the other half of kindergarten through the first half of second grade and then again in fourth grade.  I was also 22 miles from Grand Meadow, Minnesota, where I attended third grade.  I will always remember that the teachers went on strike when I was a third grader and we got to stay home.  That was very cool.  It seems like it was about 3 weeks, but for all I know it could have just been a week.  The odd thing about being in the Austin area is that every time before when I visited, I would also visit Dexter which would have gotten me even closer two those two schools... within 6 miles, but this time I didn't go there.  When I left Austin and headed north to my aunt Barbie's house near Alexandria, I drove through Minneapolis and came within 12 miles of Prior Lake's Five Hawks Elementary where I attended most of fifth grade before moving to Oklahoma, where I finally stayed put and graduated high school and still live today.

Sometime between July 12-23, 2010:  I even drove right by the campus of Northwestern Oklahoma State University, my alma mater, this summer when I went and hauled a load of gravel to an oilfield location northeast of Alva, Oklahoma, with my husband one day. 

So really, with all these schools being in about an 800 mile stretch north to south and not on a direct route to anywhere that one would normally pass through on a single trip, that really is pretty amazing that I was within 22 miles or less of each one of them this July.  I did feel a bit like the gypsy girl of years past this summer in all my travels.  I am just so glad to be rooted down with no plans to move.... ever again.

Trivia question:  have a guess of how many houses I've lived in during my 37 years?  Hint: I've lived in three different houses in my 15 years of marriage and six different places the five years while I was in college... 

I'll post the answer in my next blog.

This isn't actually one of our moves from when I was a kid,
 but I'm betting that some of those "short moves" where probably very similar.... lol.

Three statements that ruffle my feathers...

You might call me sensitive or maybe even pathetic after you read this, but there are a few statements that truly ruffle my feathers.  And the really sad part is that the intention of the speaker of these highly offensive statements is generally meant to bring comfort or show concern, but to me it does just the opposite.  You're probably going to think I'm crazy, so prepare yourself.  Here we go...

1.  Smile.  Now, if they're getting ready to take my picture, that's one thing, but if they're insinuating that I'm unhappy, we have a problem.  I am probably more full of joy and peace and contentment than 99% of the people I know.  Things like worry, envy, and sorrow do not dwell in me- not for any length of time anyway.  Many times when I am driven by a task, I am focused and determined.  I realize that I may appear unhappy, but I am not.... I'm busy.  When others tell me to smile, it tells me that they believe I am miserable which really couldn't be farther from the truth.  But, if they're truly worried about me, they would ask me how I'm really doing and stick around long enough to listen to the answer.

2.  We missed you last Sunday.  I don't know why this simple little phrase of Christianese (language that's really religious, but not very real) wears on me, but it does.  It says to me- so where were you?  what was more important than being in church?  It doesn't come from the people who really care about you or who you are close to-  it comes from those who are letting you know that they are keeping track, keeping some sort of scorecard on your faithful church attendance.  I've watched others receive this statement as well and it torques me equally as much.  Usually, explanations or excuses start flooding out of their mouths.  Not me.  I just smile a tight smile through gritted teeth and say nothing... even if I was just laying in bed last Sunday  (which I've only done once in 13 years, but who's keeping score?)  I do have to give my congregation a great big A+... this morning I just returned to church after being gone 7 (yes, seven!) Sundays in a row and not one single person spewed those words on me.  Many expressed to me that they were very happy to see me and that they were glad I was back.  They acknowledged our busy summer and everything that's been going on in our personal lives, but not one gave me the indication that they were requesting an explanation or that we were heathens for being absent.  Kuddos to my church family whom I love dearly.

3.  Pray about it.  Are you kidding me?  Seriously?  If you are saying this to me, you do not know me at all AND you have just insulted me greatly.  For one thing, if I am sharing a concern with you, then that means 1. you are very close to me and  2. I highly value your opinion and trust your judgement.  Then you also know that I have been praying about it for some time now- weeks, months, possibly years.  You also know that my prayer life is alive and well.  But, occasionally, someone who I don't know nearly as well will ask me a pointed question or we will start talking about a topic that I am struggling with the answer to and after we discuss through it, they will throw out there those three insulting words, "well, just pray about it."  It says to me that they don't think that I've already thought of that, or that I'm not a person who prays.  When they close our conversation with that simple statement of, yet more Christianese, it completely undermines the conversation that we just had. 

So am I just a little crazy?   Maybe.  Maybe I am just a snob.  Maybe I need to get over myself.  It sure makes me choose my words very carefully and only say what I really mean.  Christianese drives me crazy, too.  It's so vague and shallow and trite.  People who are real to me, don't use it.  I realize that it's truly a luxury to be understood by others and these three statements shouldn't get me all twisted up inside, but I just want to reply to them sometimes, "Are you for real?"

Jim was a good man...

The call that came about 6am that morning was not a surprise, but to experience a funeral of this magnitude was.  Let me try to explain. Two days after the call came of Uncle Jim's death, we were pulling into the parking lot of the funeral home in Delaware, Ohio, where Jim's viewing was being held.  A Delaware County ambulance draped in a black cloth was parked near the front doors and various emergency civil service men and women dressed in formal attire (white gloves and all) were milling around.  Upon entering the funeral home, family greeted us and offered us a bite to eat.  One of Jim's close friends, Ed, greeted Rodney and seemed genuinely interested in Rodney and his family.  Ed said he knew much about us but had never met us.  Jim and Ed had been friends for nearly 25 years and worked together as EMTs.  Soon we learned that the Delaware County emergency servicemen were honoring Jim with two casket guards, one posted at each end of the casket.  With formal ceremony, honor guards changed every 15 minutes during the viewing hours of 2pm-4pm and 6pm-8pm.  We also learned they had provided transportation via ambulance for Jim's body every time it had been and would be moved, right up to the cemetery. 

Rosalind, Rayne, Shelby and Makenna at Jim and Patsy's house before the funeral

The next morning we spent some time at Jim and Patsy's house before the funeral.  Later, as we approached the church, we noticed a "service vehicle" in the road several blocks past the church that wasn't there when we went by on our way to the house.  Both Rodney and I thought it was a utility company working on the power lines.  We proceeded into the parking lot of their small country church and as part of the normal funeral line up process, parked our car behind the EMS vehicles and the ambulance serving as a hearse.  When we went inside, the casket guards were in place again, this time at the front of the church.  The family didn't come in formally, but all sat together in the front across from the Delaware County honor guard.  Church family and friends filled the rest of the sanctuary.

Just after the casket guards were relieved for the beginning of the funeral, "Jim was a good man," she said.  All I could think was "Amen."  All three of Jim's pastors from his time in the Kilbourne church were part of the funeral service.  The pastor who served the longest was Sonja Bender and she knew Jim well.  Her voice was so soothing, almost healing.  She went on to talk about relationships and action behind faith even when no one is watching.  Several people shared about their love for Jim and what their relationship meant to them.  Ed was one of them who told of Jim interviewing him for his position of EMT and learning the ropes from Jim and spending years as his partner.  He talked about how Jim was a role model for him at work as well as in his personal life.  Jim stood up with Ed in his wedding and later Jim and Patsy supported Ed's kids- following their school activities and ballgames throughout the years.  The church choir that Jim participated in every week, practiced with every week and who took turns seeing Jim to treatments and appointments sang a couple of lively choral numbers that aren't normally performed at a funeral.  It was so appropriate.  Jim's siblings, Karen and David sang a duet that was equally appropriate.  In her benediction, Pastor Bender began singing a capella from the pulpit before she closed the service with prayer.

As everyone exited the church, the Delaware County honor guard lined both sides of the walkway, approximately 25-30 of them.  They saluted as the casket came out of the church and the pallbearers loaded it into the ambulance.  Mist gently fell and cooled the summertime air...  it couldn't have been more perfect.  Everyone loaded in their cars for the procession to the cemetery.  Ten service men escorted the ambulance on foot all the way to the cemetery.  The truck that Rodney and I had mistaken for a utility truck was actually two firetrucks that now held a huge flag between them over the entrance to the cemetery... more Delaware County workers were honoring Jim that day.  They stood at attention, saluting the entire procession as it passed by them.  At the graveside, two military bagpipes played Taps and Amazing Grace, and two military men performed a flag folding ceremony and presented the flag to Patsy.  Delaware County honor guard stood facing the family just under the edge of the tent.  The call came over the radio from the central dispatch for the county giving a final call for Jim Tharp, Delaware County 3.  A closing prayer was offered and with the amen the mist falling from the sky stopped.

We were in awe of the formality, honor and respect of each portion of Jim's funeral process.  These men and women who were a part of this honor guard were giving of their precious time to honor one of their own for a great portion of two days.  Jim retired from the Delaware County EMS after 27 years in 1999, so he had been retired for 11 years.  Jim was also a veteran of the Vietnam war.  We were surprised to learn that not every family of deceased service workers in Delaware County allows the honor guard to be a part of the funeral process.  What a honor it felt like to us to witness their devotion to one of their own.  Ed mentioned that Jim's funeral was one that every county worker wanted to be apart of the honor guard because of their relationship with Jim and their respect for him.  It was a very humbling experience for us all and one that we will never forget.

We returned to the church for a lunch provided by the women of Kilbourne United Methodist.  We were so impressed with the church, not the building, mind you, but the people.  They were an active, close knit group that loved Jim. 

Two fire engines holding a flag above the cemetery entrance

more Delaware County workers honoring Jim

Delaware County saluting the funeral procession

Summer travels...

Wow!  It has definitely been a summer of breathing again but also a summer of many miles on the pavement.  Our busyness is much less than it used to be and I'm savoring every moment of it.  That said, I've been traveling somewhere almost every weekend since we finished up the wheat harvest.  It started with a good part of a week at Grand Lake, NE of Tulsa, for our Krull family reunion.  Aunts, uncles, and cousins come from all over the country to spend a week on the water, and Grand Lake is one of the premiere spots.  I love it so much, but I'm afraid we're moving on to different horizons for next time.  Then the Fourth of July brought my Ridenour family to Des Moines, Iowa, for my grandmother's 80th birthday party.  Everything was lovely and the time there was meaningful.  It was the Fifth of July, however, that wasn't my favorite... my husband left in the car with my parents and headed home (south) while the girls and I pushed on north to see yet, more friends and family.  When you've already put 600 miles behind you, and you have no other engagements, what's another 400 miles over the course of 3 days?  That said, coming home was a very long haul for one driver in one day.  I made though and it was actually a good trip... considering it was 16 hours.  I did sleep on a park bench in Auburn, Nebraska, for about 20 minutes.  Lol.  Since then, the girls have actually logged more miles than I have... Regan went with the youth group to Divide, Colorado, for a week camp.  During that time, Rozzie and Rayne went to Enid to help their Aunt Renae clean the FGF weight room they own and run there in Enid.  Nae said they were excellent help- she even rewarded them with a trip to Claire's at the mall and $20 each.  Last weekend my husband's family spent a Sunday morning (starting at 7:30 AM) taking family pictures in the pasture at my in-laws.  The morning was perfect.  All of us decided to fore go church and after the photographer left, we spent meaningful time there in the pasture together sitting on the haywagon sharing some of the things on our hearts and our recent studies in the Word.  Later that day, my three children deserted us once again and went home with their Aunt Kristi to Dodge City.  Too bad for them, too.... we had unexpected overnight guests whom they would have loved to see!  Too bad life is like that... having to choose sometimes.  However, they thoroughly enjoyed Dodge. I ended up meeting Kristi half way and picking the girls up just after we learned that Rodney's uncle Jim died.  So here I am now, running down the road heading to a small community just north of Columbus, Ohio, where Uncle Jim lived.  Needless to say, none of us are thrilled about the hours that our butts are logging in the car, but it's what you do, right?   We won't regret it.  That's what families do... they lift one another up, carry us when we feel we can't go on,  and they don't count the cost.  So, my butt is in the seat and I wouldn't miss it for the world.  Did I mention that we're going to Cedar Point?  Since we're ALMOST there anyway... :)  If you're not familiar with Cedar Point, google it.  My girlfriend who was just there last month called it "Six Flags on steroids." LOL.