A Quiet Axis

Axis...a centerpiece...something which things revolve around...

Our earth turns on its axis.

Our cars depend on axes for their wheels and tires to spin.

Picture a globe...with a north and south pole,

and an axis joining them.

An axis keeps the globe on course.

It is straight and perfect.

It does not bend nor wobble.

It is necessary, important, vital.

Now,

picture a person, in the role of axis:

in the family...

in the workplace...

in the community...

in the church.

I want to be that person,

to my family.

A quiet, strong, dependable axis.

When things are "normal,"

I am there.

When things are bumpy,

I am there to smoothe things out.

When things are stressful,

I can offer a calm word of encouragement.

When things are happy,

I am there to rejoice.

When things are sad, 

I can provide a shoulder upon which to cry,

a hand-up,

a comforting presence.

Yes, a family needs that quiet axis.

It doesn't necessarily have  to be the mom.

But usually things DO revolve around her.

She's the glue...the ever-present person...

the necessary element

in holding things together,

family-wise.

Of course, it's a balance.

Dad is important, as he is the strong male presence.

He works hard.

He leads.

He mediates and counsels and coaches and encourages.

He hugs and gives pats on the back and high-fives.

He sets the standard of fairness.

But I'm the one who can be the calm in the storm...

the quiet in the midst of uproar,

the peace within the crisis.

My attitude and my demeanor and my reactions

can either make or break the situation.

If I react with thunder and lightning,

the storm roars on.

But if I am still and quietening,

the uproar ceases and is replaced with calm.

Help me, Lord, to be Your quiet axis in my family unit.

Instill in me the peace which passes understanding.

Calm me first so that I can be the calming factor to those I love.

A quiet axis.

That's what I desire to be.

Memorial Day

This being Memorial Day, I am in "memory mode"... memories of days gone by, 

memories of people gone by, memories of sacrifices made by those who paid for our freedom

with their lives...or limbs...or peace of mind.

I'm also thinking of those gone too soon:  babies, children, young people,

young adults or those middle aged ones who had so much to offer,

so many who loved them, so much more to do and contribute.

And those who had lived good, long lives but whose bodies just wore out...

or succumbed to disease or accident.

I'm thinking of those serving their country and its citizens in present times:

here, there, everywhere around the globe,

keeping our lands and seas and skies safe.

Those brave ones who served in the past, from the World Wars, in Europe,

the South Pacific, 

to Korea, Vietnam, the Middle East...

We cannot imagine what dangers they faced,

what horrors they endured,

the scars, both physical and emotional, they wear.

I'm thinking of "the good ole days"...

days when possessions were scarce...money was short...but life was simpler.

...when going barefoot, playing hiding-go-seek in the dark, 

laying on your back in the cool evening grass, wishing upon a star,

climbing trees and picking strawberries and swimming in the pond...

rock-hopping in the cool mountain streams,

or digging to China, playing house or dolls or shooting cap guns

...was the best form of free entertainment.

Birthday parties consisted of cupcakes at the picnic table, with party hats...

Vacations were long road trips, in an unairconditioned car,

caravaning with other family members...

buying canteloupe on the roadside for 5 cents each!

Arriving in time for a quick run down to the beach 

before sitting down to a tomato sandwich on squishy white bread,

slathered with mayonnaise and salt and pepper...

having to put Fizzies in the foul-tasting sulphur water that plaqued the beach communities,

to make it palatable...

going to the ice house for huge blocks of ice to keep our groceries cool,

as the old Victorian beachhouse 'fridge just couldn't accommodate all

the food needed by the 20 something family members there for the week.

Those memories are precious and priceless.

Fast-forward to this day and age of electronics, instant communication,

Facebook and Twitter and Instagram...

of so many gadgets and passwords and stuff to learn and keep-up with...

It's not bad...it's not all good...it's just not simple,

especially when you hit senior-citizen status 

and really like simplicity and quiet times and some of the qualities

that seem to have gone-by-the-wayside 

as technology and advances are made that are really wonderful

but rather complicating at the same time.

So, I'll just keep on remembering today, 

those who have gone on...those fun times of childhood and youth,

those who have fought and died,

the years of early marriage and parenthood and of all the lessons

learned plus a few times a good do-over might have been appropriate!

And I'll cherish those memories, adding to them with precious memories

in the making...of adult children with so much wisdom and so much to offer,

of grandchildren with their eyes aglow, their boundless energy, 

their faith-in-the-making and endless questions that help them learn...

their sweet smiles and vast ability to laugh and live and love...

Happy Memorial Day, friends

Enjoy your day and savor your memories,

while being ever-so-grateful to those

who have contributed to our freedoms and to our welfare.

We are because of them:.

Many are gone but are certainly not forgotten.

To those still here, THANK YOU!

Ferdinand

One of my favorite stories is that of Ferdinand, a little bull who was born and lived in Spain.


His story was written and published in 1936, but his message is as pertinent today as it was almost 80 years ago.  It has been listed as one of the top 40 children's books of all times.  It's a wonderful story, full of truth and beauty.


Here's Ferdinand's story in a nutshell:


"All the other little bulls he lived with would run and jump and butt their heads together, but not   Ferdinand.  He liked to sit just quietly and smell the flowers.  He had a favorite spot out in the pasture under a cork tree.  It was his favorite tree and he would sit in its shade all day and smell the flowers."
I like that about Ferdinand.  He marched to the beat of  his own drummer.  He liked the other little bulls.  He was their friend.  But he just didn't like to do all that rough and tumble stuff.  He was just content with his own quiet little world where he could sit and enjoy the beauty of nature.


"Ferdinand's mother saw that he was not lonesome, and because she was an understanding mother, even though she was a cow, she let him just sit there and be happy."
What a mom.  She understood her little boy.  He wasn't lonely; he was happy!  She encouraged his uniqueness, not succumbing to the  ever-present peer pressure...the competition...that seems to pervade the world of parents-raising-children.  She loved him with an unconditional love that allowed him to be just who he was, without judgment or interference.  It was based on her hard-wired mother-love that God gives and that listening moms hear with their instincts.  Kudos to mama cow!




The story goes on:  it is time for the annual bull fights in Madrid, and all the other now-grown-up bulls wanted to be picked to fight the matador.  They had grown up fighting each other, butting and sticking each other with their horns. But not Ferdinand.  He had grown up, too, but was still content...happy to just sit under his tree and smell the flowers.  He had no desire whatsoever to fight anyone or anything.




One day five men with funny hats came to pick the biggest, fastest, roughest bull.  "All the other bulls ran around snorting and butting, leaping and jumping so that the men would think that they were very very strong and fierce and pick them."  But not Ferdinand.  "He knew that they wouldn't pick him, and he didn't care.  So he went out to his favorite cork tree to sit down."


Instead of plopping down on the soft, green grass, he sat down on a bumble bee!  The bee did what bees do when someone sits on them:  STING!  And it HURT!  "Ferdinand jumped up with a snort...ran around puffing and snorting, butting and pawing the ground as if her were crazy."
It just so happened that the five men in the funny hats saw him and were overjoyed!  They had found their fierce bull!  "Just the one for the bull fights in Madrid!  So they took him away for the bull fight day..."


Madrid was alive with flags waving, bands and a parade, with all the hoop-la and atmosphere of a Neyland Stadium on game-day..."lovely ladies had flowers in their hair...the Matador, the proudest of all -- he thought he was very handsome and bowed to the ladies.  He had a red cape and a sword and was supposed to stick the bull last of all."


And...the bull  "Ferdinand the Fierce" ...ran into the ring, and everybody screamed and applauded because the fight was about to begin; and they would get to see the mean bull snort and paw and butt, sticking his horns around.


"But not Ferdinand.  When he got to the middle of the ring, he saw the flowers in all the lovely ladies' hair and he just sat down quietly and smelled."  He wouldn't fight nor be fierce.  He just sat there!
Good ole Ferdinand.  Being himself.  Not caving.  Not caring.  No matter what.  Even when the Matador and his friends got mad, madder, maddest...because they couldn't show off and "win" over their opponent in front of all the people.


So...they took Ferdinand home.  "And for all I know he is sitting there still, under his favorite cork tree, smelling the flowers just quietly.  He is very happy." 


There are lots of lessons to be learned from Ferdinand's story:  how to mother, how to treat others, how to cope with peer pressure, how to be ourselves, how to be content...
Ah, the life of peace and contentment.  Something we all desire.  When we find ourselves in the midst of life, with all its pressures, problems, and stress:  some great big issues,  some little, some annoying, some life-changing...some life-threatening.  When feeling overwhelmed and under-equipped; when we would like to run away for just awhile... to refresh ourselves, recharge our batteries...We might just learn a lesson from our friend Ferdinand and just sit in the shade of a tree and relax.


It doesn't come naturally for some of us.  We are more like the majority of bulls:  busy running around, sometimes snorting, sometimes fighting not with horns or paws but with thoughts, words, opinions, solutions, on and on...getting nowhere, just adding to our worries and angst.


How about trying the quiet approach of being still...listening...finding peace and contentment through meditation, prayer, reading, studying, trusting.  The problems may not go magically away.  But by taking on a new attitude, we can better roll-with-the-flow; we can cope; we can do what needs to be done and come out at the other side with perhaps some scars and bandaids but no mortal wounds. We can survive and even thrive, with the help of others and our Best Friend who never leaves us nor forsakes us.


And a big thanks to Ferdinand for being you and for showing us a better way.  We may just flop down underneath your tree with you and be happy!

Honoring Those with Alzheimers

In memory of my mother, who died almost six years ago after fighting her good fight with Alzheimers...and honoring many friends and strangers alike who are in the fight of their lives with this sad disease...also honoring their caregivers and/or loved ones who bravely and unselfishly help in their journeys - (Reprising an article first published in May 2008:  "Mother:")


And so it goes...a life well-lived has ended, and another chapter of our lives has begun.  It is a true blessing from God that Mother is whole again, no longer hindered in any way.  She can remember, recognize, smile, laugh, talk, walk, and eat; she can hear well and do for herself again in the way she always wanted.  She can cook and garden and feed her birds and chase away those pesky squirrels!  She can drive her car and write her letters and work crossword puzzles til the cows come home.  She can read her newspaper and the Wall Street Journal til her heart's content...she can watch Wheel of Fortune and Jeopardy and win most every time!...and plan one of her fun trips with Daddy to some interesting place in the world, making notes so that her journal would be complete with what they had for breakfast, lunch, and dinner and all they saw and new friends they met and what all the day had had in store for them.  She can bake homemade bread and Williamsburg Fresh Coconut Cake with Lemon Curd Filling....Jambalaya...Party Chicken with Artichokes...Chicken Basque...those famous Christmas goodies including Turkish Delight, pulled mints, dipped chocolates, and Spritz cookies in all the shapes from her cookie press...She can make a double batch of boiled custard and take it to an ailing neighbor...or even someone in the hospital...or perhaps a batch of oatmeal cookies or a loaf of datenut bread.  She can plant flat after flat of pansies and her vegetable garden of cantloupe, tomatoes, hills of peppers and Jerusalem artichokes and okra and green beans...She can tend her wildflowers:  columbine and lilies of the valley and Jack in the Pulpit and sit on her homemade bench, made from a couple downed trees, to admire the beauty of something only God could create.  She can listen to her music and play the piano by ear and enjoy her opera with the volume turned way up.  She can shop for bargains and redeem her coupons and visit with her friends at Food City again.  She can invite the neighbors and her golden friends from Norris and Clinton and Oak Ridge and Knoxville to a festive dinner party where she can use the good china and silver and arrange the centerpiece herself...She can invite a daughter to lunch out and they can do some shopping together with that lucky daughter always receiving a new item "just because."  She can be young again, vicariously through the grandchildren and those precious great-grands...laughing and joking and telling them tales of life as it used to be:  the depression years of her childhood, of surveying with her daddy "Papa," of living with her grandmother when times were so bad that Papa and Granny needed help feeding and raising their young; of college life and working at Drexel and moving to Anniston with Father Bill and Mama Stoney, as they were called from Grace Episcopal Church in Morganton to Grace Church in Anniston...of meeting and falling in love with her handsome friend Harry...and their marriage as the bells tolled VJ Day on that hot August afternoon in 1945...of the early years in Anniston and my brother's birth and then mine...of moving to Oak Ridge as Daddy's career dictated...and on to Norris and their beloved St Francis Church and all those fun days of our childhood in a small, safe, friendly community...then to Knoxville where they spent the next 50 years, continuing to raise children and being active in church and community and neighborhood and school affairs...Retirement for Daddy and all the fun they had traveling the Super Seniors tennis circuit, making new friends, with opportunities to visit and correspond...Daddy's illness and death and Mother's subsequent waning as Alzheimers entered the picture:  sad times as another chapter in her life began, that long journey of 8-9 years, one that would take her into the throes of silence and dependence on others.  She didn't like that, but she persevered, again showing that strength of character and resolve.  She seldom  complained, never whined, never felt sorry for herself, at least outwardly.  She adjusted to her new apartment, complete with her antiques and needlework on the walls...and was heartbroken when it became necessary to give it up and move on to assisted living, then special care for Alzheimers patients and then finally her last home in skilled nursing.  She made the best of it, though, in her stoic way...just part of the journey.  She was a joy to the staff, as she went about her day, cooperating and reading and even talking in a new poetic language marked by "to be" at the end of each phrase.  It was so sad for us to watch; but even with that, she plowed on, influencing others in the positive.  Her last two years were especially difficult as she lost more and more of the zest which made her HER...and her struggles with eating and swallowing and breathing worsened.  On May 15, 2008, we experienced the ultimate in bittersweetness:  we had lost her but she was free!  She was whole again!  She was reunited with her kind and gentle Harry...and best of all, because of her faith and trust in Him, she lives on in her new home, where she can serve in her new body with her new mind that is absolutely and perfectly clear and bright.  And so it goes..the circle of life.  We rejoice and thank God.

Riding the Roller Coaster

Well, after a four month hiatus, I'm back, blogging away!  Here's what's been going on, in my mind, as to why-or-why-not-continue-to-write-a-blog:


1.  I've been a writer since I was in the 4th grade (Mrs. Cothren told me so, after my essay on "What I Did on My Summer Vacation" ended up being my first book...40 pages long!)


2.  I can write my thoughts so much easier than speaking them.  Just ask anyone who has had to listen to me, especially if they are one of a crowd.  I was asked to present something to our church congregation...an Advent devotional .Writing it was no problem!  I did it in no time flat.  It was nearly impossible, however, for me to read/deliver it;  I nearly choked on the first sentence.  I DID manage to deliver my "speech," in a teary, high-pitched voice, but without fainting.  You get the picture.


3.  Writing is VERY therapeutic for me.  I can write down my thoughts and feel clarity...peace...resolution.


4.   So many are REALLY good at what they write:  but am I?  Sometimes I feel good about sharing my thoughts.  Many times, though, they are really just good for me.  I'm not funny...nor entertaining...nor eloquent.  I'm no theologian, though my thoughts are often on spiritual matters.  I'm not deep...nor am I on-the-cutting-edge of new thoughts on God or on the way-we-do-church...nor will I ever be praised by higher-ups in any field I can think of.  So...to be a writer, don't I need readers?  It's a dilemma in my mind.


5.  So, four months ago, I just put away my keyboard and concentrated on my main roles as wife, mother, Grandmommy, friend, and doggy-mommy...and have written just snippets of my thoughts as posts on Facebook...or in my journal.  It has been a good respite.. I've enjoyed my time away from my chronicling.  But I'm also missing it ! A lot.  So I decided to try again, just for the joy of writing.  And with the goal of not comparing myself and my writings to anyone else...nor their style...nor their opinions.


6.  Here it is:  my thought roller-coaster blog.  First since November 26, 2013.  Four months to the day.  It feels good to be back!