Just wait....

Haven't we all heard it numerous times?  Almost to the point where we want to cover our ears and shout..."No!  Don't tell me that again!"  That old saw that goes In Missouri, if you don't like the weather, just wait a few hours.  I should know better, but I still get tricked every time.

The latest wild ride of temperature and accompanying precipitation is a good example.  First thing in the morning I check my outdoor thermometer.  Does it say 17 degrees?  Better pile on the sweatshirt and heavy socks.  Does it say 40...guess I can count on wearing my lighter coat later in the day.

Wrong, wrong, wrong.  And again I say wrong.

Case in point.  One morning this week I could see it was going to be one of those balmy January days that we have every so often.  I dressed in my lighter clothes and put on my jacket.  After the first half mile of my walk, I pulled off  my sweatshirt and walked in my shirt sleeves.  That felt so good.  In fact, I could almost imagine I was on a beach somewhere walking in the sand.  Okay.  That is an exaggeration, but you get my point.

Fast forward to that night.  We went to a basketball game in town.  I thought that my lighter coat and a short sleeved top would do.  The wind was blowing but I didn't think too much about it.  When I got out of the car I noticed a nippiness in the air.  That sharp little edge to the breeze should have warned me.  By the time I got out of the gym the temperature had dropped several degrees.  The wind was out of the north and angry. I scurried to the car, head down and arms hugging my sides.  Turning on the heater full blast, I could hear that old refrain...if you don't like the weather, just wait.....  

Satisfied

No, I didn't win the lottery.

But I did win a lottery of sorts.  

Life has a lot of choices.  Sometimes we win.  Sometimes we lose.  And all of the time we have to live with our choices...good and bad.  Sometimes life deals us a few wild cards that we really didn't expect.  Trite.  But true.

I am satisfied.  Not so much because I have had an easy life compared to many.  No.  Mostly because I make a choice each day when I wake up.  I can be joyful.  I can make the best of my situation.  I can add something of benefit to my world just for today.  Or I can mope around and make myself and others miserable.  Yes, that is an option I have chosen several..too be truthful...many times.

I put my energy into building up my world.  I am a work in progress.  And the older I get...the more it seems I need to improve.  But that is fine.

I put my wealth toward a goal that will reap me benefits long after I have left this world.

And that is why I am satisfied.

Open the door

A new year.  When I was young...and maybe sometime after I was truly young...I made New Year's resolutions.  I didn't actually write them down.  Or publish them abroad.  But I did make a vow to change some habits.  Or learn something new.  Or tackle a task that I had been putting off for too long.

But now that I am older...and hopefully...wiser, I have stopped making any promises to myself.  It is just too disappointing to make a goal for oneself...and then realize in the days following that it is either too hard to reach....or not realistic.

So here is my hope for 2016.  I want to open the door.

Every day I want to wake up and look out my window and feel alive.  Ready for what that day has in store.  It might not be what I expected.  I may find some sorrow.  I might find some happiness.  But I will take each hour and meet it as it comes.

Every day I will be aware of the joy that life brings.  Joy is different from happiness.  Joy is a constant.  And it can be found in many circumstances.  It is there to be found.  I will look for it.

Every day I will reach out to someone and hold them in prayer.  I have found that my mind often drifts to a person or situation that needs Divine help.  I firmly believe that this is part of my life now.  When I was working and busy I didn't feel this calling to me.  But I have changed.  And it is a good change.

Every day I will try to say words that uplift and bring good to others and myself. I will try not to let negative people or circumstances draw me down.

Every day I will open the door and see what life has in store for me.

And my wish for you?   May this New Year bring you peace and joy.  

Just open the door.

  

Starlight. Candle-bright.

Starlight.  Candle-bright.  Evening comes in quiet echoes of times gone by.

Gathered around the table we share our memories of other Christmases.

Loved ones whose faces are missing from our gatherings.  Perhaps for merely days or months, perhaps for many, many years.  Each one remembered fondly, tears glistening in our eyes for a minute and then quickly brushed away.

Starlight. Candle-bright.  Expectation for the day ahead.  Excitement around the tree.  One gift and one gift only to be opened on this night before Christmas.  Which one shall it be?  A small one just to satisfy the child in you.  And leave the rest for the festive celebration tomorrow.

Starlight. Candle-bright.  Put on the jacket to guard against the cool wind blowing from the west.  Walking down into the field and looking up to see twinkling lights above.  How was it on that first Christmas Eve?  Shepherds watching.  Angels appearing.  Glory shouted from the heavens.  But now, here we stand hushed and still, waiting, waiting, waiting....

In the starlight with candles bright shining through the windows.  

Peace.  Peace on earth to men everywhere.  That is what we are waiting for.

Today we cut the Christmas tree....

Today we cut the Christmas tree.  A thin frosty rime still lay in the shadows of the house and barn.  But armed with saw and gloves we climbed down the hill and brought it home, held shoulder high.

Today we cut the Christmas tree.  The red-tailed hawk sat on his accustomed branch, unblinking, but yet approving our choice.

Today we cut the Christmas tree.  It sits unadorned, waiting for lights and decoration.  In the field it still was beautiful, just as it was.

Today we cut the Christmas tree.  I plucked bronze oak leaves from its branches and sent them blowing in the easterly wind, down the hill and far away.

Today we cut the Christmas tree.  A little burrow of some small creature lay exposed where once the cedar branches sheltered it.  What will the dispossessed do now, out there with the snow and cold reaching into its home?

Today we cut the Christmas tree.  It will stand guard by the door, lights shining out into the night. They can't compete with stars twinkling above.  But they will welcome one and all to our hilltop.

Today we cut the Christmas tree.  And after the festive season is done ,we will take it down and carry it, held shoulder high, down the hill where first it grew.  And it will rest there with its brothers, telling stories of when it sat upon the hilltop and shone brightly for all the world to see.

Today we cut the Christmas tree. 

Kids and Christmas Programs

I have been reading the memories that many of our Ozark County citizens have of school programs from their childhood days, especially those from one room schoolhouses.  What fun!  I know something about putting on a Christmas program with young kids.  It is a challenge.

Many of you from Gainesville remember the old Elementary School.  This is where most of my memories come from.  For a month or more before the program the music department, band and vocal, were practicing their pieces.  I could hear most of this from my room up above the cafeteria where the band practiced in the afternoon.  The music room was on the other side of the basement hall so that wasn't so noticeable. 

Every music teacher wanted their program to really be the best there was.  Beccie Farmer McGee really went all out with hers.  I am not forgetting the others, but Beccie's are the ones I really remember.

They were always stories about Christmas things.  From Kindergarten to 6th grade, all of the students were rehearsed and re-rehearsed, as only Beccie could do.  She was a perfectionist.   And elaborate.  Sometimes I wondered how she was going to pull it off, but she did

My job, being in a classroom just off the stage( the old typing room for those of you who attended High School there), was to herd the cats...errr, children.....around and onto the stage. And to get them in place before the curtain opened.   It was a job that got more complicated as time went on.  

First of all, how do you lead 30 or so Kindergarten children dressed as Christmas trees onto a stage that is already crowded with decorations.  The answer?  Very carefully.  I ended up carrying the last two in my arms and depositing them bodily in the back row.  Psst...don't forget to smile for mom and dad!

Other classes were led outside and around the building and put in the cafeteria.  Quiet was of the essence.  Sure.  Let's see.  Put several classrooms of second,third and fourth graders all together, just before Christmas, in a large and may I say, echoing room.  And expect them to be quiet?  I think not.

Anyway, we did our best.  Teachers, aides, and others trying mightily to be in control.

Class by class we would line them up and bring them up the stairs...shh..quietly..and lead them on to the stage at the appropriate time.  A challenge, but we did it to Mrs. McGee's satisfaction, I hope.  

One thing that made it all worth while for me was seeing our kids transformed from jeans and t-shirts, into little princesses in best dresses, with their hair combed and sometimes curled...not to mention the boys in clean pants, sometimes a shirt with a tie, and hair slicked down on their heads.  

After the last song was sung and line was given we were all thankful it was over for the year.  Oh wait...how about the spring concert?  At least that was a few months away.  And we could be glad that the Christmas program was done...at least until next year.  Fun memories to last a lifetime, for sure.

Thanksgiving Ties

Later on this week everyone will gather around the table and feast on turkey, sweet potatoes, stuffing, green beans, cranberry sauce, and pumpkin pie.

And the significance of that table, at least for me, is the memory connection.

Who doesn't have memories of Thanksgiving Past?  I can't imagine anyone who would admit to not holding a mental picture or two of how it was when they were young.

My memories of Thanksgiving always involved a trip to my grandmother's house.  She lived with my aunt and uncle and cousins.  All of us would travel to Aunt Taty's for the day...some of us from a distance, and some from close by.

The first thing I remember is my grandmother standing at the sink, peeling potatoes.  She would use a common paring knife but the skins came off in almost paper thin strips...you could see through them.  When I peeled potatoes she monitored my every move...making sure that I didn't cut too deep and waste good food.  That was her motto. 

Aunt Taty would make the turkey and dressing.  She always baked a ham too because my Uncle Bill had been raised by a Kentucky mother...and he had ham at Thanksgiving. Period. The end.

Aunt Nettie brought the pumpkin pie and salad.  Cousin Ruth brought the fresh made rolls.  My mom always made her famous cranberry relish.

All in all we had plenty of  food and more than we needed.

But the one constant that comes back to me every Thanksgiving is the tie that binds us all together.  It is a gossamer thread as light as silk, floating through the air, catching light as it passes.  It is the sound of my aunts and uncles and cousins and my mom and dad, laughing, telling stories, sharing news.  It is the smell of food, spicy,savory odors, filling the house with a flavor you can almost taste.  It is the warmth of the stove heating the rooms until you have to open the windows to let in some fresh air.  It is love on all the faces gathered around that table.  It is grace said by my Uncle Henry as he bows his head and folds his work-worn hands in prayer.  It is that scene that will never leave me, no matter how many Thanksgivings I celebrate.

It is the tie that binds us together, past to present, with a firmness that will never let go.

May your Thanksgiving be filled with all sorts of memories...good food, good company, and good times.