Kids Say the Darndest Things

Approximately 25 years ago my then mother in law quit smoking. She was middle aged and had smoked all her life. Her motivation came from my eldest son who at the age of five just kept telling her “it's bad to smoke, Grammy” every time he saw her light up. I guessed that she had run out of excuses for him and for herself. I assumed that she was just tired of the whole thing and gave in to the inevitable. She quit cold turkey and we were all proud of her.

I was visiting that son and his family recently and his sweet, innocent, five year old boy made some remarks to me that have had that same motivating effect. His first remark was made as we snuggled on the couch together. “Grandma, you are huge! You are almost as big as Santa.” I laughed and agreed with him. (I am about 40 pounds overweight... ouch... that was hard to write!)

The next day I could tell that he had been thinking about it because he calmly told me that I ate too much and that was why I was so huge. Again, I agreed. You can't argue with the truth. But the third observation was the one that finally got to me. While tucking them into bed, I hopped up on the corner of their long dresser to sit while I read them a book. In a very concerned voice, he said, “Grandma, I don't think you should sit on that. You might break it and fall!”

At that point I was literally feeling like a WHALE! I mean, really? I'm a little more than chubby but in my neck of the woods, I'm still small compared to many others I see. That and all my many excuses flooded through my head on the trip home. But when I arrived at home, I took a long, hard look at myself in the mirror (ouch...that was hard to do) and realized that he was right. I am huge.

Then I remembered my mother in law quitting smoking. And I knew...she did it out of love for her grandson. She (and I) understood that we are being watched and what we do matters because of the influence we have on them. That knowledge and the love we have for them and they for us is the most powerful motivation in the world! Ask a grandparent what they wouldn't do for their grandchildren? The answer will most likely be...nothing.

So I am determined to get back in the shape I used to be. I have changed my eating habits and so far have managed to workout out every day. Something I found easier to do because of technology. I run the most hated workouts on my laptop while watching a favorite show or movie on TV. Boo..yah! I'm already feeling better and remembering that I used to love being fit and strong.

The next time I visit (in a few months) I want to hear my grandson exclaim, “Grandma, you're not huge anymore!” That is the picture I hold in my head when I want to fall down and die from “Sweating it with the Oldies”. I'll keep you posted. That's the view from my side of the street, what's yours?

The Christmas Present

“And it came to pass in those days, that there went out a decree from Caesar Augustus, that all the world should be taxed. (And this taxing was first made when Cyrenius was governor of Syria). And all went to be taxed, every one to his own city. And Joseph also went up from Galilee, out of the city of Nazareth, into Judea, unto the city of Bethlehem; (because he was of the house and lineage of David:) To be taxed with Mary his espoused wife, being great with child.

And so it was, that, while they were there, the days were accomplished that she should be delivered. And she brought forth her first born son, and wrapped him in swaddling clothes, and laid him in a manger; because there was no room for them at the inn.

And there were in the same country shepherds abiding in the field, keeping watch over their flock by night. And, lo, the angel of the Lord came upon them, and the glory of the Lord shone round about them: and they were sore afraid. And the angel said unto them, Fear not: for, behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people. For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord. And this shall be a sign unto you; Ye shall find the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger.

And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God, and saying, Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men.

And it came to pass, as the angels were gone away from them into heaven, the shepherds said one to another, Let us go even unto Bethlehem, and see this thing which is come to pass, which the Lord hath made known unto us.

And they came with haste, and found Mary, and Joseph, and the babe lying in a manger.” Luke 2: 1-16

And to their testimonies, I add mine...that Jesus is the Christ, the only begotten Son of God, our brother and our Saviour, thru Him death was conquered, thru Him all things can be healed and made new again, I have seen it, I have felt it. I know it. That's the view from my side of the street, what's yours?

Christmas Parade

Another favorite Christmas memory of mine is the Christmas Parade. This happened a few decades ago when I was young, energetic and knew no limits. Our small Maine town had a Christmas parade after Thanksgiving each year. I think it was meant to start the shopping fever. The floats were beautifully designed and promoted by the town's stores. The final float held an amazingly “real” Santa's workshop. There in full glory was the old man himself waving and ho-ho-hoing for all he was worth. His elves threw out candy to the cheers of the children and dismay of most of the parents.

One particular year I stood on the sidewalk with my children and watched the entire parade. As I watched each float go by, I wondered at the emptiness I was feeling. The floats were pretty but meaningless. I realized that the more spiritual side of Christmas was being neglected. I thought, “There really should be a religious float included. After all, it is Christmas, the celebration of the birth of Jesus Christ. Or a Hanukkah float or well...something to feed our souls.”

In true Walter Middy fashion, I began to visualize this float. First, music....probably couldn't get the Mormon Tabernacle Choir but well, maybe speakers playing their music. Next, some beautifully costumed figures representing Joseph, Mary, the Wise Men and shepherds. Maybe some real animals... oh, yes, it would be so awesome. I wasn't in a position to do this myself but I did speak to a few people at my church. Nothing.

A year passed. Two weeks before the parade was scheduled, I was given the calling of PR director for my church. The first thing I thought of was my vision of the Christmas Parade float. Whoo-hoo! I could do this! I contacted town officials, squeaked by the deadlines and voila, I had a float permit. Now what could I do in a week?

One member of the church had a flatbed truck for his lumber yard. Another provided hay bales to line the edges to keep participants from falling. One more built a simple manger. One young man provided the signs we attached to the front and back of the truck. The front sign stated “That God so loved the world...” and the back sign read, “ that He gave His only Begotten Son.”

No time for any kind of music rigging or for fancy costumes. Children played the parts of the Nativity scene dressed in towels and sheets. One pet lamb was tied on with the children. It was simple. It was plain. As a matter of fact, as the floats lined up before beginning, all we had was the truck. Parade officials looked at us very strangely. I assured them all was well and hid behind a tree as I cried in frustration.

Slowly but surely it began to come together. Children were still being loaded on as we took our first corner. I sat in the cab with my husband driving and a baby on my lap. I had failed God. I was so embarrassed that I wanted to hide my face. But as I apologized in prayer for such a plain and simple float, my being was filled with warmth and I heard these words in my heart, “And she brought forth her first born son, and wrapped him in swaddling clothes, and laid him in a manger; because there was no room for them in the inn.” Luke1:7

More tears fell but they were tears of joy and understanding. Jesus' birth was simple and plain...and incredible. I began now to notice the reactions of the crowd. I saw some crying, I heard people holler out their thank yous, I watched fathers hold up their children to see “the baby Jesus”. Along the entire parade route people broke into spontaneous clapping and the float received more than one standing ovation.

I thought that perhaps others had felt as empty as I had with earlier parades. I though of how hungry we all are for spiritual experiences. But mostly, I was feeling thankful for the plain and simple beginning to an extraordinary life that has changed so many lives including mine.

I hope we will all take moments this holiday season to celebrate life with all it's ups and downs and maybe even send a whispered “Thank you” heavenward. That's the view from my side of the street, what's yours?

Christmas Miracle

Christmas memories have been flooding my mind and unlike the last few years these memories are good. Our favorite Christmas tradition was to do something good for someone else usually anonymously. It brought a sense of joy and fun. My sons were particularly good at sneaking a package to a door, ringing the doorbell and running to a predetermined hiding place. This took study and planning. They felt like secret agents!!

One of my favorite Christmas surprises was the year that we did the manger sets. The year before I had bought five or six manger sets at Wal-Mart during the after Christmas sales. We wrapped each piece of the nativity scene and attached a corresponding scripture to it. We numbered them and placed them in baskets with instructions to open one a night. The first gift opened was the manger. The last gift opened was the baby Jesus on Christmas day.

The hustle and bustle that went into this project was fun and provided many teaching moments but we did hit a snag. I hadn't noticed that one of the sets I had bought had dark skinned, Hispanic type figures. The list we had prayerfully put together consisted of only white people. What were we going to do with that one?

I pondered all the options. I felt that we did indeed need to give it to someone. But who? I prayed some more and a young couple in our neighborhood kept popping into my head. But they were very white from a very white family in town. I kept asking, really? I kept being told yes. So, we did it.

The next year they found out that they couldn't have children. They began the long, arduous task of adoption. They had made the decision to adopt children that were in the Family Services system. After a long wait, two young sisters were given to them. They were Hispanic. Over the years, they adopted three more children. All of them were of Hispanic descent.

One year, after their third adoption I was in the house for a neighborhood party. It was Christmas time. The simple nativity scene was set up in a prominent place. One of the guests remarked on it's uniqueness. Then I was privileged to hear “the rest of the story”.

She related how delighted they were at the Christmas surprise package and how much fun they had opening each figure. But they had been confused by the skin color. Maybe it had been a mistake, maybe this was supposed to be for someone else...but they were tickled anyway.

Each year they set up the scene with the same delight and confusion. Until the Christmas after they had adopted the girls. This time as she unwrapped and set up each figure, her eyes filled with tears. The figures looked like her new daughters! She related that she realized the gift had not been a mistake but a miracle.

And I agree. It was a miracle. A gift from an all knowing God. I have never told her that it was my family that gave her the basket. But how privileged I felt to know that a loving God had used my family to help Him. This Christmas, look around you, open your eyes and your heart, find something to do for someone. God can do all things but sometimes he needs human hands to help. Be those hands and you will truly experience the Christmas spirit. That's the view from my side of the street, what's yours?.

The Littlest Angel

Shortly after I reestablished my Internet...my laptop died. But the stars have aligned. All is well and here I am writing again. I'm crossing my fingers that it stays this way!

When I was a little girl, my favorite Christmas story was that of “The Littlest Angel”. It was an old Golden book that I had and oh, how I loved it. It was also made into a short TV movie. I have that movie and while the special effects are ancient and yes, even laughable compared to today, I still love the story.

The story is of a little shepard boy who dies suddenly and finds himself in Heaven. He is miserable and forlorn because Heaven isn't anything like he is used to. There are no trees to climb or sheep to herd or rocks to find. It seemingly has nothing to offer a young, active boy. He causes trouble because he just can't seem to get anything right...he doesn't fit in and he is homesick.

He is allowed to go back to earth to retrieve his “treasure box”. It is his most loved possession. He is in hopes that having that with him will ease his homesickness. He tries to talk to his parents but of course, they can't hear him.

He returns to Heaven with his simple box filled with the “treasures” of earth. The box holds a robin's egg, some feathers, a pretty rock and other such things that are indeed, treasures to a small boy. He is happy to have his box but still struggles to fit in and be like the other angels.

An announcement shakes up Heaven. The Son of God is about to be born. All of Heaven begins it's excited mission to prepare for this glorious event. Each angel is preparing beautiful gifts for the babe. The littlest angel is again forlorn. He has nothing to give to the Son of God. He is heartbroken.

At the last minute he thinks of his box. It is all he has. Should he give that to the Christ child? Yes. He places it with the other gifts. It has never looked so plain...so shabby...so simple as when placed among the exquisite gifts of the other angels. He is ashamed. Why did he do it?! The other angels are looking at him. He begins to slink away.

Then...the most amazing thing happens...God picks up his simple offering and declares it the best present of all...it was given in love...it was given in sacrifice...it was truly a gift of the heart. God explains that it holds the wonders of earth, the treasures that His Son will also experience and love. He states that as the best gift it will become very special indeed...God turns the shabby treasure box of a small shepard boy into the Christmas Star...the new star that declares to the entire world that Jesus Christ is born.

This is the season that we celebrate that birth in all it's wonders. We give gifts, go to parties, concerts, etc. We endure the crowds, spend time with family and friends, bake cookies, sing songs and do so many other things that mean Christmas to us. But the most important gifts of Christmas will always be those of the heart...given in love...perhaps with some sacrifice involved. Gifts of time, service, caring and thoughtfulness are the true gifts we can give. Those are the gifts that best celebrate the gift God gave us ...the gift of His Only Begotten Son.

That's the view from my side of the street, what's yours?

Sabbatical

In July I decided to take a little time off from my writing. You know....a vacation like most people get. Little did I know that a one month planned sabbatical would evolve into a five month forced time off. It would have been impossible to guess that I would not only give up my writing but find myself offline for such an extended period of time. But a number of heated arguments with our phone/internet provider about lousy service and elevated rates lead to a mutual disconnect agreement. I had no idea how hard it was going to be to find a new provider in our tiny country town.

Some providers don't come out “this far”. Others made promises they could not keep , apparently our trees interfere too much with their signals. Still others sound good but if you use your internet for everything as we were accustomed to doing, it could get quite costly! In the meantime, life marched on at a rather steady speed and I found myself caring less and less about getting “hooked up”.

But eventually it became essential once again. I have missed pictures and notes from friends and family. I have missed Skyping with my grandchildren. But I truly missed INFORMATION! I can't tell you how many times a day I headed to my desk to look up something...important somethings...trivial somethings...even life saving somethings. The first day I was online I spent half the night checking into my sister in laws strange symptoms. The doctors haven't known what is wrong with her but By, George, I think I've got it!

It has taken me another week, however, to feel ready to start my blog up again. Just like any other routine we let go, I have forgotten how to do this. So if you are an old reader, give me a few blogs to get back up to speed. If you are a new one, be patient, it might be worth it. My life has changed in so many ways over the past five months. I hope I can get back with the program and make the time to do this thing I love so much. That's the view from my side of the street, what's yours?

Animal Angels

Has anyone else noticed that the most uplifting world stories lately usually involve animals? This past week I have read about the female sperm whale who after divers had worked hard to free her from a life threatening entanglement of fishing lines and traps, returned to the boat after a joyous swim and thanked each and every person by nudging them gently.

There was the story of a small abandoned dog who had adopted a five week old kitten and refused to be rescued without it. Then a story of a chimpanzee rejected by it's mother. Zoo keepers placed it with a mastiff who had a litter of four pups. The chimp is loving and being loved by the mom dog and it's dog siblings. There are so many stories of cross breed mothering.

I remember the story from a few years ago of a lioness who went without eating for a number of days while it tried to keep a baby gazelle alive. Nobody knows why. This week there was also a piece about a terrier and a baby fox who have become great friends after the dog's owner found the fox pup.

Who can forget the story of the mother dog that made numerous trips into a burning building to carry out each of her babies. Or the dog who picked up a garbage bag and carried it home. It's owners checked the bag and found a newborn baby! Or the dog that slept on and around an abandoned baby, keeping it warm in the cold, dark night until they were found.

Then there is the story of the grieving pitbull who stayed by it's dead mate for over 12 hours. She had been run over by a car that didn't even bother to stop but her companion would not leave her. We've all been touched by the dogs who mourn their owners passing by visiting grave sites to touching coffins to waiting for them to get off the train.

Hundreds of stories abound of animals saving their humans from all kinds of danger. The ones that touch me the most are the dogs that sense subtle dangers. There was the dog who went crazy in his owners bedroom until they woke up and checked their new baby who had stopped breathing.

Or the newly adopted cat (just adopted that day) who sensed his new owner slipping into a diabetic low in her sleep. This cat sat on her chest and slapped her face until she woke up enough to call for her son. The son, however, did not hear her. This cat ran to his room and sat on his chest slapping him until he awoke and checked his mother. In some cases it can be said that the animal is so familiar with it's owners that it knew something was different. But not this time. This cat was completely unfamiliar with the people and it's surroundings and yet, it knew. It was an older cat and had been someones beloved pet so the shelter must have truly felt like prison to it. I think it was so grateful to be part of a family again that it bonded quickly and was determined to show its gratitude.

I watched a montage of pictures involving our troops and the cats and dogs that they befriended in the war zone. Even in hell, God sends reminders of gentler, kinder times. These animals help them to retain their humanity in an inhumane place. They bring comfort and love when it is most needed. And our soldiers give love back.

My favorite story of the past week happened somewhere in South America. A young girl walking home was grabbed by an older man and being dragged off. We can probably guess for what. A pack of wild street dogs heard her screaming and ran to her rescue. They attacked the man, who let go of the girl. She ran home and the dogs moved on. Who says there aren't angels?

So, today, I thank God for animals and the lessons they teach us, the unconditional love they give us, and for the wonderful examples of how we should really be. They are still listening to their small inner voices even when most of us are not. As a matter of fact, I think that the animals are becoming more human and the humans are becoming more animal like. Does anyone remember “Planet of the Apes”?

That's the view from my side of the street, what's yours?

Choose to Love

“Each and everyday we have a choice, we have a choice to either love that person in front of us or not. It is the relationships that you build over the years that is the most important thing in life. Everything else is just an illusion.” This is a statement made recently by a dying man. It is one of the most true things ever uttered.

In my teens, I read a book called “On Death and Dying” by Dr. Kubler-Ross. She had dedicated her life to learn as much as possible about the process of dying. Her research changed many things about the way doctors viewed terminal cases as well as setting a standard that helped clarify the grieving process. It was a remarkable book.

One of the most valuable lessons in the book for me was that when someone knew their days were numbered they took great care to spend those last few precious hours carefully. They chose to use the time left to them in meaningful ways. They shared feelings, thoughts and stories that had never been shared. They looked back and regretted the things that had diverted them from family or friend time. They all seemed to realize the truth of what was important. Not one of those she had interviewed said they regretted not spending more time at work. Most of them wished they had spent more time with their loved ones.

This hit me hard at the time. I had recently lost a beloved grandmother. She had helped my single mom raise me. We were close but the last year of her life found me busy with high school, activities and dates. She had not been ill. There was no reason to think she wouldn't be around for awhile. And being a typical self centered teenager I had not made much time for her in my life. Then she was gone.

My regrets were overwhelming. I realized the hard way that nothing I had been spending my time on was more important than the time I could have been spending with her. The time now lost to me for the rest of my life.

The years have seen me losing important relationships for many reasons. The holes that are left by those losses can never be filled. Be grateful for the relationships you have. Tell people you love them. Make time for them. Because we never know when that opportunity will be lost to us. That's the view from my side of the street, what's yours?

The Rythyms of Life

Until January of 2013, my husband worked for a local ConAgra food plant in the trucking division. His schedule was pretty erratic. We never knew what day he was getting off until the night before. He left home at two-thirty pm every day to start work at three-thirty. This was our only constant. His return home was anytime between midnight and four am.

We adjusted our lifestyle to fit the job. He slept most days until one-thirty. I did quiet things during his sleeping time, writing, reading, exercise etc. I usually stayed in my pajamas until after he left. I did all my housework while he was gone as well as my outside the home stuff. My usual bedtime was midnight after I had made a meal of some sort for him to eat upon his arrival home. I didn't get up until around eleven. I wanted some sleeping with my husband time. This was awkward but we made it work.

Since the first of January my husband's already erratic job has become even more so. He was switching positions and shifts to help keep the old company keep going. Mostly we had a few days warning, sometimes not. This affected all areas of our lives, transportation, family events, sleeping patterns, even how and what we ate became involved. My shopping habits had to change. My refrigerator kept being rearranged to accommodate the “new” food that best suit our schedule with each change.

May brought even more changes as the new trucking company took over and we had to adjust to their way of doing things as well as different shifts and positions as again he helped the new company get started. His job became a day to day change. He even had a few days that he was told he had off only to be called in by someone else who had him on the schedule.

June brought my two daughters full time for six weeks into the mix with their own busy schedules. I've already written about that. I didn't realize how much stress this had all been to me until this past week. I have a plaque that reads, “Blessed are the flexible for they shall never be bent out of shape.” I am pretty adaptable.

But last week the girls went back to their dad's house and my husband finally started the job he had been hired on to do. I realized how exhausting it had all been and kind of crashed. Hence, no blogs and not much of anything else.

Our new schedule is one we've never had in our almost nine years of marriage. And neither of us had it in our past marriages for quite a number of years. It is the much coveted (much dreaded) day shift! Our days now start at 5 am, a time I haven't seen for a long time. He now comes home for dinner every night (another thing I haven't had to do for a long time) and we are in bed by ten pm. I am changing everything again but hopefully this will stick for awhile. I'm not quite ready to take the blackout curtains off our bedroom windows but I am thinking about it.

People for generations lived with the regularity of rarely changing schedules. The rhythms of life ebbed and flowed with the seasons of life as well as with the seasons of the earth. There was a surety and a simplicity that built great foundations in everyone's lives. It was important.

Today's world has lost those valuable rhythms. After the last six months I know why everyone has sleeping and depression problems. We are out of sync with those rhythms and it's making us crazy. That's the view from my side of the street, what's yours?

Little Things

A new friend came to my home for the first time recently. She and her young teenage daughters had just moved here from a big city in the middle of the country. She loves small towns. My small town is a pretty awesome one and as I listed it's amenities it sounded even cooler than it is.

I told her about the quilting club, the garden club, concerts in the park on Monday nights, movies in the park on Friday nights, our popular 4^th of July celebrations, our community garden and anything else I could think of. I took them to see our beautiful marina park and campground on the Columbia River. I showed them favorite swimming spots. They were impressed and fell in love.

I shared with them the summer activity schedule for children and youth set up at the park every year. There is even a bus to transport kids to and from. I took them to see our police department, city hall, banks, hardware and grocery stores.

Then I brought them home. They said my home was homey and welcoming. They loved the chickens, bunnies, dogs and cats. They loved my tiny garden. The girls were in awe of my girls ability to drive the yard tractor around. My flower beds were praised. It was generally thought that my home was a peaceful, beautiful spot and again they fell in love.

And I think I did too...fall in love again with my home and my town. It is so easy for us to slip into the hole of seeing all the things we don't have or all the things that are so hard or all the things we are waiting for or the projects we haven't done yet. When this happens, we lose sight of all that we have. We forget about our daily blessings and settle for the discontent of “if only”.

I just found a plaque that reads “Enjoy the little things in life, for one day you'll look back and realize they were the big things.” I'm hanging it in a prominent place in my bathroom so I can read it every day. I'm hoping that I'll be able to live it. That's the view from my side of the street, what's yours?

Ant Wars

I have a favorite gratitude attitude story I share often. It is taken from Corrie Ten Boom's “The Hiding Place”. If you have never read this book I highly recommend it. It's in my top ten list. Corrie and her sister are in a concentration camp for hiding Jewish people during WW2. The first night there, they promise to continue their nightly ritual of thanking God for everything in their lives. It is Corrie's turn to pray that night and her sister insists that they thank God for the fleas that are epidemic in their barrack. She feels that God is in charge of ALL things so the fleas must be there for a reason. Corrie gives thanks for the fleas very grudgingly.

Much later they find that the flea epidemic is the reason that the guards rarely come into the barracks. This is a blessing in a number of ways, not least is the fact that they are able to have nightly devotions to God with the other inmates and a smuggled in Bible. At that point, they truly felt thankful for the fleas.

I recently had a similar situation. I have written before about the regular invasions of ants that is a part of life in this area. In fact, we joke that the entire town of Boardman was built on an anthill. It's not far from the truth. The first year in this place was a nightmare until we got things under control. Since then, we have had seasonal sporadic bursts of ant activity in the kitchen but nothing that some poison traps and cinnamon couldn't handle.

The day before the 4^th I noticed increased activity which I blamed the high heat for. I opened up a few extra poison packets, placed them strategically and went to bed. I couldn't believe my eyes the next morning. We, literally, had hundreds of ants parading across the counters, through the cupboards, down the walls and across the floor. They were everywhere!! I did what I could in the little time I had that day. I found a few food sources and quickly eliminated them. I placed out every gooey ant bait we had. By the end of the day, baits that usually lasted for months had been emptied in one day. I wanted to torch the house!

We got through our day somehow. The next day found me at Home Depot filling my cart with outside poison powder, inside spray poison and more of the sugar baits. I had declared war!! I spent the next two days cleaning everything, pulling everything (bookcase, appliances, furniture, dishes, food, etc.) out and spraying the entire perimeter of the house.

I did the same outside with the powder stuff. I spread it around the whole base of the house, in the gardens, even in places where they were bad in the yard. I did not enjoy this because I truly hate to kill anything but it was self-defense. The ants had fired the first shot. I was not going to lose this battle.

The good news is it worked. I am ant free except for the few that come in on the dog or us. I have decided to follow this regime every fall and spring to avoid future invasions. I hope we don't die of toxic shock in the meantime.

The best parts, though, are the blessings I received because of this invasion. My girls finally cleaned their rooms. Yeah! My house is clean in areas that haven't been touched for a long time. My books are all better organized because we had to remove them to move the bookcases. I found some I didn't know I had ( I'm reading “Gone with the Wind” now). I got rid of a bunch of stuff. I organized my “office” space in the living room, something I've put off for awhile. I found many “lost” items and also some very precious family memorabilia. In short, looking back, I realize that I am indeed, thankful for the ants.

If only I can remember this lesson the next time something like this happens. That's the view from my side of the street, what's yours?

Summertime Parenting

If there is anything harder than having a house full of teenagers, it has got to be having them part-time. It is hard enough being a part-time parent. Contrary to what my girls believe, I don't sit around the house just waiting for their visits. I have worked hard to fill the void that not having them around causes. Maybe too hard because my already full life bulges and threatens to break at the seams when it crashes into the full time parenting of summer.

And having my girls for a couple of weekends a month doesn't help much. I can devote most of my time to them during those weekends. This spoils all of us because we can't follow that pattern in the summer or nothing would get done.

So each summer finds us readjusting to living with each other full time. It's hectic and tumultuous at first. Their father's home and mine have very different operating principles. Habits formed there must be left there. I don't accept them here. My ordinarily quiet alone days are now full of noise, activity, TV shows and arguments.

One daughter was trying to convince me that I knew a lot of songs from this one singer. I didn't recognize his name and I only knew one of his songs. When I mentioned that I don't listen to the radio much she balked. “Mom, you have it on in the car everyday.” I replied that I was only in the car everyday to take her to cheer practice. She just couldn't believe it when I said that many weeks I only go to the grocery store and to church. Both five minutes away in my small town.

But we do adjust. We begin to relax and open up to each other. I have a chance to get to know my daughters in a way that four days a month don't allow. The days smooth into a daily rhythm and all is sweet for a few short weeks.

Each year finds us scrambling to get them ready for Girl's Camp, something that is done on my time and with my church. It's important and faith building. I wouldn't have them miss it for the world but it does take a big chunk of my precious time. This year, they will go to camp and then back to their father's the next day. I dropped them off yesterday morning and came home to my quiet, orderly home, devastated once again at having to say good bye so soon. It never seems long enough.

It is impossible to measure the wear and tear that my mother's heart goes through with all of these arrangements. I can so understand the parents that stay away from their children. In the short run it saves the anguish of the never ending good byes that feel like losing them all over again.

But in the long run, it hurts the children so much more to not have involvement with both of their parents. And I am holding out for the long run. As a matter of fact, the long run is what keeps me hanging in there day after day, heart break after heart break. I want what will be best for my children here on earth and in the eternities. Life is not a sprint, it is an endurance race.

So I will go to my bed and sob my pain out. I will beg the heavens to give me the strength I need. I will beg that same strength for all my children. I will work hard to put the pieces of my fragmented life together and trust that someday it will be a beautiful picture with all the pieces of the puzzle complete. In the meantime, I better find some tissues. That's the view from my side of the street, what's yours?

Heaven...just a click away?

When I was little I imagined heaven to be a sunny window seat with lots of cushions placed in an endless library with an equally endless supply of fresh crisp apples. Spending eternity reading and learning everything I wanted to know was as close to perfection as I could imagine.

As I grew and the world around me changed, I added a movie screen to my heavenly room. I wanted this movie screen to show real events that had happened in the world. I wanted to be able to see and experience events I had not been around for. I also wanted to experience things I might never have a chance to here, like...Broadway plays...a night at the Met...watch how movies are made, etc.

A little older and I decided that the ability to see places and to meet people from all around the world must be added. Circumventing the globe might not be something I could manage in my life time but I wanted to. If I couldn't do that in life, well, I'd settle for doing it in heaven.

Add a few decades and a whole lot of moves and a new heavenly requirement popped up. I wanted to be able to keep tabs on people I have cared about throughout my life. I just kind of wanted to know what they were up to and how their families were.

Now my regular readers know that I'm not a huge fan of today's technology. I have seen it's devastating effects first hand. I have clung tenaciously to some of the “good old ways”. So imagine my surprise this week when I realized that I have fallen in love with my computer and it's capabilities! I still can't believe it but my laptop is all the things I wanted to find in heaven. It is an endless supply of places, people and things I will never see or do physically! It is a never ending supply of information and knowledge! Social media gives me the chance to check on loved ones regularly.

What brought me to this epiphany, you ask? A week of 110 degree weather, my very old double wide and a lousy air conditioner. I literally spent the week in front of a fan and on my laptop. Yes, I'm on my laptop everyday. Usually I check out the news, my blogsite, facebook and not much more. The past few months have seen me using it to look up specific info on things I want to know (a new talent). But desperation and sweat drove me to new Internet heights.

I introduced myself to Amy Winehouse's music which I loved (especially in her early years) and watched her devastating slide from a beautiful fresh faced girl with enormous talent to the empty slurring shell of the woman she had become. I watched a number of Broadway plays, old and new. I finally saw a live performance of “Sweeny Todd”. It was so much better on stage than on screen. I learned a bunch of songs from “The Rocky Horror Picture Show” and watched a stage performance (not better than the movie).

I went on an African Safari, visited a few zoos, checked on the latest Bigfoot sightings, saw both the 10^th and 25^th live concerts of “Les Miserable”, read up on a number of medical breakthroughs, watched the happy homecomings of a bunch of returning soldiers, looked for a job all over the country, read up on some laws (especially overtime regulations because Brent's new company refuses to pay it even when they have worked him over 70 hours a week).

I've spent time keeping track of an old friends newborn grandson born with a number of health problems and other friends and relative lives. My daughters hooked my husband on “Mythbusters” and me on “My Strange Addictions”. I learned that I'm not as crazy as I thought and that we did go to the moon!

On Facebook a few months ago, I saw something like this, “If a person from the fifties came back today,what would be the hardest thing to explain to them?” The answer was “That we carry a device in our pockets that hold all the information of the world and we use it to look at pictures of cats and to argue with strangers.” I laughed at the irony of this statement. But I'm realizing now that I too have not fully appreciated what I have at my fingertips. I have what I thought I'd have to wait until heaven to gain- an endless supply of information and knowledge with just a click of a button.

This isn't always a good thing. The information can be false, the paths we take can be evil but as with all things it it left to us to chose for ourselves. My biggest concern is that now I've made this discovery, how am I going to tear myself away to do my normal living? Oh, well... That's the view from my side of the street, what's yours?

Independence Day

Tomorrow is the United States of America birthday. It is Independence Day. The moment that the great men who started this country signed the Declaration of Independence they became criminals. They and others like them were committing treason and were ready to lose everything including their lives to fight for the freedom they believed in. They had to do wrong in order to do what they thought was right.

Families, friends, neighbors were divided by these beliefs. While many wanted freedom from England, others wanted to stay British citizens. There were some who didn't care. They just wanted to be left alone not taking sides. Those who did make a stand did so with great courage and conviction.

In honor of the day, I found some quotes made by these men and women who put everything on the line for freedom of thought, beliefs, religion, etc. I felt that they were all still relevant today.

“He is an American, who, leaving behind all his ancient prejudices and manners, receives new ones from the new mode of life he has embraced, the new government he obeys, and the new rank he holds. He becomes an American by being received in the broad lap of our great Alma Mater. Here individuals of all nations are melted into a new race of men, whose labors and posterity will one day cause great changes in the world.” St. John de Crevecouer.

“I have but one lamp by which my feet are guided, and that is the lamp of experience. I know of no other way of judging of the future but by the past.” Patrick Henry

“Dost thou love life? Then do not squander time, for that is the stuff life is made of.” “Content makes poor men rich; discontent makes rich men poor.” “Experience keeps a dear school, but fools will learn in no other.” “Honesty always makes the best policy.” Benjamin Franklin

“These are times that try men's souls.” Thomas Paine

“Resolved, never to do anything which I should be afraid to do if it were the last hour of my life.” Jonathan Edwards

“Labor to keep alive that little spark of celestial fire, called Conscience.” “I hope I shall always possess firmness and virtue enough to maintain what I consider the most enviable of all titles, the character of an “Honest Man.” George Washington

“Honesty, sincerity, and openness I esteem essential marks of a good mind” John Adams

And finally from Thomas Jefferson- “The time to guard against corruption and tyranny is before they shall have gotten hold of us. It is better to keep the wolf out of the fold than to trust to drawing his teeth and talons after he shall have entered.”

This 4^th I'm going to think about the things that are important to me and what I would be willing to fight for. I'm also going to be thankful for those who risked everything to establish a land of liberty and those who gave their all in defending it. That's the view from my side of the street, what's yours?

Another Week in Paradise

Don’t you just love how you are just going through your life as best you can when it throws some whammies your way? And BAM! You are down for the count. I don’t know if it’s the same in your life but in mine it seems like a bunch of smaller whammies always precede the big one.

Take this past week for example. It started with my husband getting five unpaid days off from the brand new company that has taken over trucking at the plant where he works. We were told at the beginning that this would never happen. If the plant shut down they would be put to work at another one. Not.

We can’t afford five days off because this company pays per load not per hour as did the plant. Since it is a transition time, there haven’t been enough loads for anyone to make any money at. Add to the two week waiting time, the three months without insurance time, well, you get the picture. We made the best out of it and completed many around the house projects.

The night he went back to work (of course), the kitchen sinks clogs up and overflows while the dishwasher is running. I didn’t notice this because I was outside watering my flowerbeds.  I walked in to a flooded kitchen. Great.  Cleaned it up, poured stuff down the drain, waited, tried again, nope, went to store, got more stuff, poured it in, nope, took the pipes apart under the sink, cleaned them out, put them back, tried again, nope. I did manage to get it to drain in slow motion. So it drained all week until he could get to it.

The tiny paycheck he did get this week was supposed to be deposited automatically in our account. Although we were the first ones to get all the paperwork turned in and were promised that this was the week it would be done, it wasn’t. Causing an overdraw when our insurance payment was taken out.

In the meantime, getting the money off the payment card they gave him is enough to make even him go postal. He’s the calmest person I know! If you mess up you have to wait twenty four hours to try again. Meanwhile we’re looking in the couch for change to get him gas to go to work.

He gets gas, drives to Hermiston for work to be told that the trucks are now in Boardman (where we live) so he turns around and heads back. There went the ten dollars worth of gas we scraped together.

Despite my best efforts at annihilation, the ants are back in my kitchen and the flies on my back porch. My dogs were sprayed by skunks three times this week. Oh, goody! Let the summer games begin.

Oh, well, just another week in paradise as my husband says. At least we weren’t hit by a tornado. That’s the view from my side of the street, what’s yours?

Up in Smoke

Recent elections have opened some doors towards the legalization of marijuana. And while I stand firmly against any legalization other than for medical issues (it is after all an herb). I'd like to see this issue in the federal governments hands rather than leaving this decision to individual states. I can't believe I just said that because I'm one of those who want the federal government to do less not more. But let me explain my views.

I live in Oregon. Medical marijuana is legal here. A doctor issues you a card saying that you are a medical marijuana user. This allows you to have possession of a certain amount of weed. You may also grow a fixed amount. If you are a dealer, all you need is a list of customers and copies of their medical cards. This allows you to grow, possess and distribute pot legally. That's it.

Before moving here I thought that the whole process would look more like this. Your doctor gives you a prescription, you take it to your pharmacy and get it filled just like any other medicine. Nope. You have to find a dealer to get your own and he's not in the yellow pages.

Cops think the whole system is a joke. They basically can't touch anyone who says that they are growing and dealing for “medicinal purposes”. Not if they have the paperwork and we all know how easy it is to get the paperwork.

We live across the river from the great state of Washington where it is legal to purchase pot right along with your groceries I guess. Actually, they are still trying to work that all out. One entrepreneur wants to get in on the ground floor and set up smoke shops that sound like a cross between a bookstore and a coffee shop.

I just read about one old farmer who thought he would get in on the ground floor. His state legalized medical marijuana so he planted a few fields. Problem was that his state is set up like mine. Small amounts are legal, large amounts are not. He assumed he would be selling his crops to pharmacies all over the place. He didn't know that the system didn't work that way. He was arrested and charged.

So, basically, in most of the states that have legalized pot for medicinal use, the only people profiting are the regular dealers. They are off the hook for growing and distributing as long as they do it in small batches and comply with the documentation. Around here, dealers have a number of small growing areas. They are using the same documentation for each one. No one is going to know unless all of them get found at once.

In other words unless the feds get involved, all we've done is make illegal dealing easier. If the federal government legalizes medicinal pot, it can regulate it and create a pharmacy type scenario, making the dealers illegal again and keeping farmers in the loop instead of jail. That's the view from my side of the street, what's yours?

I Hate Being a Girl

There are times when I just hate being a girl. Mind you, it doesn't happen very often because usually I love everything about being female. But every once in awhile...boom...it hits me. Today was one of those days. I just couldn't find something to wear. I hate when that happens. My husband can get up, throw on the first thing he grabs and go. Oh, how I wish it was that easy for me.

I'm on a diet (of course). I am losing weight(slowly, very slowly). I am enduring the moment when my husband sits on the couch with a container of ice cream and a big spoon while I nibble carrot sticks beside him. I am making meals and cookies and cakes for my family without even licking the spoons or my fingers. I should be so happy that I am so committed to making this work, right?

NO! Because anyone who has lost weight knows that it comes off in all the strange places first. Not only that but the rest of your mass shifts along with the loss. So jeans I have been wearing for several years suddenly won't allow me to zip and button even when I do the “ lay on the bed” thing. I tried on four pairs before I found something that fit! Monday is my weigh-in day and I should have been on a success high all day. Instead I feel like a hippo because my pants won't fit.

Belly fat is always the last to go. I now have to be careful what shirts I wear. I want to cover up my now protruding stomach so a lot of my tops aren't long enough. Of course, after a number of failed attempts, I'm frustrated beyond frustration. This is when the “I hate being a girl” feeling hits.

The worst of it is, why do I care what I'm wearing? Nobody but me and my family are going to see me. So it really shouldn't matter what I put on. This is the talk that I give to myself and the reasonable side of me agrees. It's just that female thing going on again. And I don't know about the rest of the girl world but I literally cannot continue my day until I have found the outfit that's just right. How crazy is that?

But the moment comes when I find it, do my makeup, put on my shoes and give a contented sigh. I feel and look good. There is the key. It doesn't matter how great we might look in something. It doesn't matter if everyone stares and tells you how gorgeous you are. It doesn't matter if you are dressed in designer clothes or jeans from Wal-Mart. If you don't feel good in it you won't like it. Period. Amen. That's the view from my side of the street, what's yours?

The "N" Word

Sometimes I can’t believe the way words just pop out of our mouths. Something being discussed on TV caught my attention while I was visiting a good friend recently. Pictures of a woman “addicted” to tanning beds were being shown. One showed her with a very dark face but her mouth and eyes stood out as white circles. I gasped in shock and cried, “Oh, my, gosh, she looks like a nigger!”

I realized moments later that was not the word I intended to say but since I couldn’t remember what I was trying to say, I kind of just left the “n” word hanging. In the middle of the night, I woke up suddenly- “a minstrel! That’s what I meant. She looks like a minstrel in a show.”

For those of my readers who don’t know- minstrels were performers. They were white people who blacked their faces, leaving big white circles around their eyes and mouth. They sang and danced in traveling shows. That was what this woman reminded me of.

I called my friend the next morning to apologize. How grateful I am for good friends!! She had a single thought when she heard me- “that doesn’t sound like Kathy, she must of meant something else.” God bless her!

And even though I didn’t mean that word, the fact remains that to those of us raised during a certain time in history, using the “n” word was an acceptable way of referring to those with black skin. Even black people used that word. My generation has made the journey from the “n” word to Negro to colored to black to African-American. Someday that will probably be considered offensive, too. These words are part of our history, culture and unfortunately our vocabulary.

Recent events have occurred that are destroying a woman’s life because she admitted to using that word in the past. Get your heads out of your self- righteous butts, people! As I’ve already stated, most of us born in certain years have used that word at one time or another. It was something we heard all the time. As children, we didn’t even know it meant anything bad.

 Paula Deen is not a terrorist. She has not killed anyone or committed a crime. She isn’t even very important but she is being persecuted for a slip of the tongue. How can that be right? I see her being discriminated against by people who swear they are against discrimination. Does that make any sense? Where is forgiveness and understanding?

Corporate America is made up of a bunch of chicken hearted hypocrites ready to throw anyone under the bus to avoid a loss of profit. They are cancelling her show rather than doing the right thing and defending the person who has made them tons of money. Have they ever heard of loyalty?

Finally, I am a Christian. I hate to hear the Lord’s name taken in vain. Using any form of God’s name as a swear word is offensive to me and millions like me. But nothing has ever been done about it. Books, movies, Facebook, even texts are full of those words. OMG is used by virtually everyone with no thought to the hurt it may cause many. Those of us offended are expected to suck it up and deal. Well, I think the rest of the world should be doing the same thing. Suck it up and forgive the woman. She doesn’t deserve this. That’s the view from my side of the street, what’s yours?

Magical Memories

We are at our small town's beautiful marina and campground on our little piece of the Columbia River. It's breathtaking at this time of day. It is sunset. Today was a hot day but the wind is blowing (of course) and here by the river its cooler. The wind is causing waves which makes it look and sound like an ocean. It is impossible to be here and not relax. Even my twelve year old says it makes everything else seem unimportant.

There is a family barbeque going on to the far left of me. Closer to the water is a Little League game. The boys are small maybe just out of T-ball. How many of those games have I sat through I wonder. But the most amazing thing is the transformation in my young teen girls. Kelly (14) has a friend with her. Sarah(12) is off doing her own thing but all three of them have allowed the magic of the water work. They climbed rocks, waded in the river, played in the sand and are now holding hands and jumping the waves. Squeals of delight waft up to me. What happened to the bickering, snippity girls I rode with in my car?

They have been turned into children again. The sand has been dug into moats. They giggle as hand prints and foot prints disappear with the waves. They scream as they jump a wave and lose their balance, landing squarely on their butts neck deep in the “cold, dirty, disgusting water”.They want me to take pictures (of course).

I'm remembering other days spent here with other children. They are adults now. Some have children of their own. Many days were spent at the river. Many memories were made, also. Good ones, I hope. They were for me. And once again, I am reminded how short time is, how quickly it passes and how much I want to treasure each moment I have.

So I watch the girls who will soon be women and hope that they will not lose the ability to be childlike. In the future, they will bring their own children to the beach (wherever it is) and my prayer is that they will enjoy their memories and make wonderful new ones. That's the view from my side of the street, what's yours?

Split Personalities

I’ve been thinking about all the different people we are in a lifetime. Well, maybe not different people but we all play different roles during our lifetime. Some people see us in one way, others in another. Very few ever get to know all of us.

This thought began its germination when my father-in-law passed away. I listened to those who loved and knew him best and realized that they all knew him in different ways. The granddaughters he helped to raise knew him as a father figure. Other grandchildren knew him as a grandfather. All of them had such different memories and perceptions of him.

My husband’s ex-wife knew him from younger days as well as older ones. I only knew the older Alzheimer’s version of him. His children remembered the younger him as well as the older him. At times as they talked it seemed as if they were all talking about a different person. In a way, they were.

So, I began to think about the stages in my life. I pictured a group of people all gathered from my different years in a room talking about me. I could see confusion and arguments as each tried to reconcile the stories told by others with the me they had known. Whew!

People from my childhood probably remember a happy, helpful, imaginative, playful child. I played well with others and all by myself. Siblings probably remember the tense, scared, angry side that was always afraid to be at home. Cousins would remember a tempting, convincing child who taught them to snoop on adults, steal their liquor and instigated other types of troublemaking. None of them knew that I was carrying a deep dark secret…too huge for any child to carry.

Teachers would remember an intelligent , thinking child who always had her hand up and was never afraid to ask questions, often playing the devil’s advocate. High school friends would remember the funny, mouthy, daring, out there person who wasn’t afraid to stand up and be counted, and who usually spoke her piece regardless of who she was speaking it to. They would probably share stories about the wild, adventurous, seventies girl who was willing to try anything once. I was their hero but they were way too young to see the self- destruction and desperation behind the choices.

After high school I worked in nursing home settings, those people would remember an organized, efficient, caring, hard working young woman who insisted that those who worked with her were thorough in their care giving. They never got to see the drinking, drugging wreck I was at home.

Then I found the church and motherhood in the same year. And while I still privately fought my demons, I had help from God and a reason to carry on in my son. I found that happiness could be mine and I was a daughter of a loving Father in Heaven. Whoo-hoo! I never looked back! Those who knew me then remember a knowledgeable teacher, a willing worker, a devoted mom, and a great friend. I served in almost every position I could and gave birth to nine living children (and two dead ones).

My children, however, remember a crazy, unstable screaming meemie while I tried to do life with a crazy, controlling husband, my personal demons (which my husband exploited and fought hard to keep me from getting the help I truly needed) and a home that didn’t even have a bathroom until baby #6 was on its way. I hope they remember some good times because I tried so very hard but I’m afraid the bad times overshadow the rest.

And today, I’ve received the help I needed, married a wonderful man, have had a peaceful, “normal” life for at least three years. I’ve learned many new ways of coping with the world and again, the people that know me today would have a really hard time reconciling the today me with any of the others.

 And so it is in all our lives. We all have so many different roles to play or maybe I should say hats to wear. Seeing ourselves from the eyes of those around us help us to develop completely. It’s supposed to be that way, don’t you think? Kind of like looking in those surround mirrors to see our whole body at once.  That’s the view from my side of the street, what’s yours?