Happiness: a viewpoint or just an illusion

9/11/10 This morning’s Commercial Appeal “M” section featured the upcoming Central Gardens home tour. It brought back one of my all time top memories---taking the tour with Josh the weekend before my 50th birthday. On the gorgeous mahogany table in one of the homes was a collection of hinged, porcelain/enamel limoges-type boxes. One was encircled with books and had a Wordsworth quote on it. Larry and I had just been to Wordsworth’s home in the Lake District of England the summer before. Josh must have registered my fascination from afar---I certainly never touched the box. Just days later it was my birthday gift from Larry and one of my most unforgettable. He really had to do some searching (Babcocks, probably) to find the exact one and then dig deep in his pockets to purchase it, I’m sure.

I continue to love those home tours---it’s like a sneak peek at the kind of houses I once assumed I would live in when I grew up. Not sure where I got that false assumption. Maybe all little girls have it. A 2 story home with the nice yard, big windows, hardwood floors, fireplaces and comfy dens----with a wrap around porch and a swing thrown in for good measure.
Even now as an adult when I walk around my neighborhood at dusk, I love to see the “glowing” rooms of others’ homes through their nice clean windows. It feels like a peek at happiness. And often my pleasure turns to something similar to regret because I’m ashamed that if someone could even see through my less than squeaky clean windows, they would see dishes piled in my sink. I just don’t seem to have it as all together as those who live in the “big houses.”

Shakespeare phrases it well. “But oh, how bitter a thing it is to look into happiness through another man’s eyes.” (As You Like It Act 5, scene 2)

Even I have “taught” others an important truth----never compare your insides with someone else’s outsides. It seems I need some re-teaching in this area myself.

And you do as well if you peek at the “squeaky clean windows” of my blog and assume I have something which you don’t have. If we all have the Lord, we’re on level ground----make that holy ground. There’s no place else I’d rather be.

150 flavors addendum

9/8/10 An ice cream blog entry isn’t exactly spiritual though I do have friends who deem eating ice cream as an experience pretty close to a spiritual encounter. Believe it or not, ice cream is not one of my weaknesses. However, as I’ve said before, pursuing those “must” lists or “best” lists are an exciting challenge for me. The most recent one included USA Today’s top ice cream parlors in the “150 flavors” blog entry.

Larry and I stopped this past weekend to verify the Tennessee winner, the Casey Jones Ice Cream Parlor in Jackson, TN. In my opinion, it wasn’t worth the drive.
(Even though they do serve bottles of Bubble Up and Nu-Grape.)



Save gas money and go to Jerry’s Snow Cones and Car Wash on Wells Station in Memphis.













Order a wedding cake “Supreme”---soft serve ice cream mixed into a snow cone. This ice cream treat is definitely worth the drive though your flavor choice might differ. (Hubby likes the coconut.)
Go early if you go on a weekend. The lines are long and it closes at 9 p.m.

For years, Jerry's was owned by an older couple, introduced to us by our son Josh. I loved the sign that Mrs. Clifton, in her pink and white striped apron, placed in the window--- “Closed on Sunday so that you may attend the church of your choice.” Mrs. Clifton has gone on to glory but the new owner has abided by her stipulations and they remain closed on Sundays.

The Cliftons were a couple who made ice cream a spiritual experience----they served God’s love with each order. That kind of life should top God’s list!

order.

Monday Medicine

9/6/10 The elephant that was sitting on my head has moved to my chest. A rhinoceros has invaded my “good” nostril. I feel like yuck. It is Monday---Labor Day Monday and I feel that meditating will require real labor. But….it is Monday and Monday is always for meditating. Besides, I have 150 flavors of psalms to choose from so it should be easy to find one for an ailing lady.

Psalm 71 came to mind again.

“…..Thou art my strong refuge,…..my mouth is filled with Thy praise….Do not cast me off in the time of old age; do not forsake me when my strength fails.”

…..right neighborly thing to do.

9/5/10 A right neighborly thing to do was the phrase that Daddy once used when an unknown "neighbor" left tomatoes on his front porch with an unsigned note. The note simply said, “Enjoy with your daughter.” He used it in 2001 to describe Thelma bringing bread to us after Mother died. Yesterday he used that phrase to describe Miss Ann driving Nello to the doctor. Nello, suffering with macular degeneration, could no longer see well enough to drive. Daddy probably used the adjective, right, to mean somewhat. To me it was an adjective that described acts that were correct and morally good---acts that all God-fearing neighbors should emulate. A "right neighborly thing to do" is a manifestation of the “golden rule”---a “do unto others” mentality that comes straight from scripture.

And as ye would that men should do to you, do ye also to them likewise. (Luke 6:31, KJV)

Even if the acts aren’t reciprocal, acts of kindness are still a “right neighborly thing to do.” All of us should go and do likewise.

“What right neighborly thing have I done lately” is what I’m asking myself. Better yet, I should ask, "What right neighborly thing can I do today?"

A WALK CONTINUED……….

9/4/10 ……………………….for 33 years. In 1977, Daddy was told that he was border-line diabetic and that he needed to watch his diet and to exercise. He did just that. No questions asked. He followed doctor’s orders.
Daddy is DISCIPLINE in all caps. He has also persevered and that says a lot. Most of us are good for the short haul. It’s the long haul that gets us. Scripture supports Daddy’s lifestyle----admonishing us not to grow weary in doing what is good for others. Yet, it’s our own health that enables us to do that very thing. In Romans 12: 5 God’s word restates that tribulation brings about perseverance and perseverance, proven character.

This past year has seen a real change in Daddy’s 88 year-old body so he no longer walks at the mall. He no longer walks as far or as briskly---but he still walks. He has even fallen once on his neighborhood walk so he’s being more careful with his “wheeled” walker. He still laces up his Nikes and puts on his Kentucky hat. (His blood runs blue.) He even stops to chat with the neighbors, though he tells me when he leaves he can’t remember who they are. He’s having to learn to enjoy the moments for what they are.

Meditating on Psalm 71 had me somewhat prepared for my time with Daddy this weekend. I am his next generation and yet it was already my turn to give back to him---to remind him that he will not be cast off in old age or be forsaken when his strength fails. God never forsakes and sometimes he uses others to be his hands and feet. I am unimaginably grateful for brothers who share the privilege of helping Daddy age well. It’s still hard to say good-by and I have knots in my stomach when I leave him. Yet, I know that even from afar, I can help him continue his spiritual walk as we share our Upper Room* devotions. It’s the Methodist way---the walk he knows. I want to continue that walk with him.

*Let each of you look not to your own interests but to the interest of others. (Philippians 2:4, Upper Room 2/4/10)

Fluid Motion

9/3/10 FAT BLOG VERSION

Writing and Dancing. Both are at their peak as fluid motion. In the verb form, both require action. This morning I’m a little sluggish on the “action” aspect of life and there is certainly no “fluid” in my motion. I’m drained dry. Of course, Zyrtec exacerbates the “dry” part.

Writing, for me, tends to be a vent for suppressed/repressed emotions. Just the act of writing is freeing. Even the smooth flowing of an ink pen can help enhance the experience. (I still have a pen from the 60s that takes a cartridge.) Dancing on the other hand provides an outlet for pent up muscles and “stove-up” joints---or any other “crunked up” (friend Pam’s word) parts of this aging carcass. Not sure how graceful or fluid the movements are at this season of life.

I’m sure there is an exact scientific definition for fluid motion somewhere out in cyber space but for me it’s just my way of connecting writing and dancing. Writing is like dancing---alike at the point when “grace” in the action becomes smoother and more flowing---a result of practice. Practice = action. Movement. Words just seem to float around in my brain but when I let them out through my fingertips, there comes for me a focus---a pared down focus that helps me shape and clarify truth. That’s why I blog. It’s really for me. Readers just get to peek over my shoulder---a partial read, of sorts.

There are bloggers galore and who’s got time for all their words? Therefore, though writing is therapeutic for me, I’m working on paring down blog entries. There’s a skill in that---like poetry--- saying the most with fewest words. I teach that skill to HHS students but am having trouble following my own instructions.

Even scripture had to be pared down---more affirmation that I should follow suit. In John 21:25 we’re told not only of all the many things that Christ did well but…..

“If every one of them were written down, I suppose that even the whole world would not have room for the books that would be written.”

Signing off for today---trying not to crowd cyberspace---

SKINNY BLOG VERSION

Trying to make blog entries pithier while still allowing for fluid motion. It’s hard work. I need to practice, practice, practice.

1 Way Communication

9/2/10 In a relationship, one-way communication is almost an oxymoron. If you don’t believe it, watch a married couple where one is doing all the talking and the other is doing all the listening. Okay, maybe the one is not listening but he/she isn't talking. Probably because the one who is talking doesn’t stop long enough to take a breath----thus the other one can’t get a word in edgewise. That's NOT communication!
Sometimes our communication with God is that way----we’re calling out (or hollering---- if you’re in a “hurricane”) the list we’d like the Lord to take care of and then we tune Him out. We treat Him like the pizza man. We call. We order with specifics. We “hang up.” Hi! God. I’d like a pleasant day with nothing that will upset my stomach but do smother it with “stuff” I love and cut into 8 manageable slices for ease in handling and a cost that suits my budget---free would be nice so I don’t have to work for any part of it. That’s it. Deliver ASAP---I don’t like waiting. Bye. (Not even a thank you included as we hang up.)
One of the favorite picture books in the 90s
at Southwind Elementary School was Hi! Pizza Man.
In the text, the mother asks the child, what will you do if it’s not the pizza man? Have you ever thought about that?
God is NOT the pizza man. So what are you going to do? 1- way communication is no way to build a relationship. Have you ever tried to listen to God or anyone else or are you always doing the talking? Just a little something to think about tomorrow when you order that Friday night pizza.

HURRICANE AFTERMATH

9/1/10 HURRICANE EARL. A hurricane warning has been issued for the U.S. East Coast from Cape Hatteras, North Carolina, to the Virginia state line. That was the weather headline when I opened CNN this morning.
It brought back beach camping memories from the summer of 1974. Following a ferry ride over from Ocracoke Island, where a seagull “pooped” on my head---I should have known that was not a very auspicious beginning----checking out the wild ponies on North Carolina’s Outer Banks, and frolicking on Kill Devil Hill, where the Wright brothers made their first flight, our troubles began.
Our transmission had “dropped” and we were “camped” in Rodanthe, NC at Cape Hatteras National Seashore when a similar warning came (the camp store manager came by shouting out the news, not exactly National Weather Service sirens). Every car left but ours---we had no working car.

We had to batten down the hatches and ride it out. That meant Larry pulling a concrete picnic table over to anchor our tent lines/stakes and fishing for our supper. My job was to fix food and tell stories to keep son Buddy, age 4, and Larry’s siblings, age 14 and 9, calm. No cell phones back then to call for help. I don’t remember that the “storm” had a name. Did they name hurricanes in the 70s? I do know we endured hurricane force winds even though the full landfall force was further up the coast. For sure those winds were something resembling a hurricane---especially in its aftermath and our emotional turmoil. With hurricanes, there’s always an aftermath.

Spiritual maturity would not have described us at that point in time but I guarantee I was praying. Hurricane prayers are very similar to fox hole prayers, I imagine.
Spiritually, what “we sow in the wind, we reap in the whirlwind.” (Hosea 8:7) A “harvesting what you plant analogy” with a somewhat negative connotation. I’m hoping that nowadays I am sowing more than fox hole or hurricane-type prayers.

By Friday, Hurricane Earl will be taking aim at the Outer Banks with strong winds, pounding waves and potential flooding problems. Result: lots of aftermath.

An insider joke with some dear friends has us calling our spouses Earl and Earline. We’ve been through a lot together in our years of marriage and know first hand what a whirlwind can do to a relationship. Especially one without prayer. Long ago we learned to sow in acceptance, forgiveness, humor, and love in order to avoid reaping a path of confusion, destruction, disorder and turbulence----the aftermath of wind/hurricane-type behavior.

Winnnowing

8/31/10 I need more winnowing in my life. How ‘bout you? Mine might not be a winnowing of good and evil but more of a winnowing of good for better or unnecessary for necessary even in the mundane tasks of writing and speaking. 

I’m often too verbose when it comes to both writing and speaking. I need to "cut to the chase" as I write and "get to the point" when I talk, by getting rid of so many details. Today as I spent more time in Psalm 1, I noticed the stark contrast of the one who prospers and the ungodly one. Psalm one compares the godly man (one who meditates on the word) to firmly planted trees nourished by water. The ungodly man is like the chaff---the useless part of the seed or grain that is left after the winnowing.

A woman in Joy Gill's India winnows (separates) the grain from the useless chaff as it blows away. 

In other parts of scripture we see the useless chaff scattered as it is wind/gale driven, wind blown, storm driven and angel chased. 2 Kings 19 gives a real analogy of chaff in the lives of Hezekiah’s people who had been invaded by the Assyrians: “Leaving their people dispirited, slumped shoulders, limp souls. Useless as weeds, fragile as grass, insubstantial as wind-blown chaff.” (v. 26, The Message) The chapter goes on to assure God's deliverance for His own glory---that His people might be the opposite of chaff. 

 People have their hearts as good ground, so that His word might strike root, and bring forth fruit in their lives as “they sink down roots and rise up fruits.” (v.30) 

Sounds like Psalm 1:3, doesn't it? Winnowing gets rid of the chaff and allows God’s fruit to “blossom” in all our lives. Allow the Lord to help you look closely into your life to help you recognize and rid yourself of the chaff, the undesirable parts. It might take a close examination but the winnowing will be worth it as it frees you from the superfluous or the unnecessary or maybe even the bad. 

Winnowing certainly needs to be a bigger part of my "life" vocabulary.

150 FLAVORS

8/30/10 This past weekend’s USA Today featured another one of their food lists ---“Great American Bites ” I love lists like that. Between USA Today’s “10 best places to……” and Southern Living, I have files full of ideas of places, mostly food related, to check out on our jaunts---it’s how we found Dinner Bell with lazy Susan style serving, in McComb MS, ruby reds (large shrimp) at King Neptunes in Orange Beach, yummy breakfast at the Pancake Pantry in Nashville and juicy In and Out burgers in CA. You get the idea!
Larry and I have mapped an entire trip to Florida in order to take in “restaurants,” a term used very loosely for some hole-in-the-wall places we’ve tried. So, this most recent article fascinated us because it listed the “best” ice cream parlor in each state and D.C. I begin checking off ones I/we had already tried. Alabama, check. Arkansas, check. Maine, check. Missouri, check. Then, I saw Mississippi’s winner, located just north of the Hernando town square on Highway 51. Hm-m-m. Guess who checked off the Velvet Cream on the way home from Batesville yesterday.
It was tasty---even the burger and onion rings were yum. But this milkshake mecca offered 150 flavors of ice cream type drinks, from concretes to slushes and everything in between.
These first 2 paragraphs illustrate the somewhat absurd lengths I go to in order to satisfy my “taste” buds and check a conquest off my list. It’s really kind of sad when I realize that I all too seldom go out of my way to find the perfect scripture---much less blend it with other scripture passages for a fulfilling experience.
There are 150 Psalms so I’ve decided to “taste” those over the next few weeks. Psalm 34:8 says, “O taste and see that the Lord is good;"...... But where do I start?
Maria, in the Sound of Music sang, “Let's start at the very beginning / A very good place to start”…..So, I’m going to select Psalm 1:1-2 and I’m going to blend in other cross references, listed in the outer edge column of my Bible, as parallel passages in order to get the full flavor. Today I’m even going to add memorization for meditation Monday---that way my selection will stay with me longer.
Just like the 150 flavors at the Velvet Cream, I may not be able to fully try all of them but I can take a lick at it. (bad pun, I know)