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 |  I've maxed out. Closed this blog. |
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This is a way of making myself write something coherent and grammatically correct almost every day. I'm opinionated and need an outlet. I'm also prone to flights of fancy. Thanks for stopping by. |
| I have known a number of people who complain about not having children. Yes, I've know some who were quite happy not to have any. But sometimes you get sick of the whining and the complaining and hearing about all the money they spend going to the doctor trying to have kids. We understand they want a family before it's too late. So did I. I was told early on that if I got pregnant that I would die, and the heart attack would take the baby, too. So that closed the door for me. I was heart-broken. It's the greatest disappointment of my life. I kept hoping for some breakthrough in medicine that might change my chances, but it didn't and I got worse. But I never complained to family or friends beyond making a statement of fact. I've also know people who were terrible mothers, who neglected, verbally abused, or hurt their children. I've always felt the injustice of that, of unfit parents having the gift of kids and not taking that responsibility seriously. And here I was, educated, somewhat intelligent, who loved kids, and would have made a good mother. My kids would have done their homework and had fun and done creative things. They might not have been rock stars or beauty queens or rocket scientists, but they would have known they were loved. That's one of the things I want to talk about in Heaven. I want Jesus to tell me what he was thinking by letting all those unfit people have kids, but people like me were denied the chance to share ourselves and the world with another generation. That's life. We take the path laid before us and try not to grumble. |
| It's hard to watch someone close to you growing old. At first it might be just balance or getting up and down from a chair. Or maybe they need more naps. Of course, everyone is different. I have a friend in her 90's who cuts her own grass, rakes her own leaves, and pulls her own weeds. She doesn't do her artwork any more or play piano because of her vision. But she still goes on hikes with the senior group. Most of my older friends just don't drive at night. Some have given up their country homes and moved to condos in town. A few have hearing problems, but quite a few hear better than I do at a generation younger. But there are some who are slowing down quite a bit with walking problems, mastering stairs, and reaching for things. My father is finally realizing he shouldn't drive at night if possible. He doesn't drive out of town any more. He has one of the kids help him fill out forms and carry his mail out. He reconciles his own bank accounts, but sometimes he needs our help figuring things out. His hands are arthritic, and he drops things--mostly food. His chair has to be cleaned daily; the floor at his spot in the kitchen has to be mopped daily. Before he goes out, we have to brush him off for food he's dropped on his clothes but doesn't see. He misses the trash can even when he stands beside it and bends over to drop stuff in. He falls asleep all day long for short naps; I don't know how he manages a part-time job. I have to sit beside him in church to elbow him before he starts snoring. The main reason I don't want him to retire is that I know he'll sit around too much and nap. Then he'll toss all night and won't feel good. At least while he's working, he's seeing people and keeping up with news around town. He does yard work, but he's slowing down. He can't do the strenuous stuff any more, and leaves his tools out and about. I check him when he's napping to be sure he's still breathing. On hot days, I make sure he's not overdoing it. I check on him when he's shoveling snow. He does just a little at a time now. I go with him to the doctor's when I can get off, just so I can hear what they say instead of his watered down version. We try not to be bossy with him. He's always been the strong one. It's still his house, his life. But we let him know what we think, and he doesn't argue. I hope he feels cared for and respected. Still this is the man who took care of his wife and children, was the strong one for his mother, his sister and his in-laws. He was the one everyone else leaned on. Now he has to lean on others. |
| Every Friday now at the medical center where I work, they're trying to present a heart healthy meal for $5.00, along with the usual offerings of sandwiches and buffet items.The meals are pretty good, and come with a recipe card so you can do it yourself--if you can find all the ingredients. Finding couscous and quinoa is a little hard in my area--not even Whole Foods has them not mixed in with other things. These meals are low-fat, low carb but not carb free, high fiber and are actually pretty tasty. They are portion controlled, which means I'm hungry an hour later. Some more chopped tomatoes or crunchy romaine, or a few more bites of whole grain whatever, would be so satisfying. I've learned to carry some fruit to have for an afternoon snack on Fridays. This past Friday I was busy orienting new employees when the boss was starving and took two other people out to lunch early. I think he felt guilty that I was not invited, so he bought something for me, which one of the others delivered. The place they went, a popular hamburger place where the students hang out, makes fried potato salad. That's right "fried potato salad". A couple of the skinny women in my office love it. I thought it sounded gross. I had seen it, a big ball with a crisp coating. I didn't want any. They brought one back to me, right after I had finished my healthy meal. I was polite and thanked them. I told myself, I didn't want it. I looked at it and pushed it aside. After 20 minutes or so, I opened it again, and thought I could take a taste. Oh, my goodness! Yes, the outside was thin and crisp. Inside was warm red potato salad with tiny bits of bacon. A coronary waiting to happen. I took a second bite and shoved it aside. A few minutes at my computer went by. I pulled it over and opened it again. I'll eat half of it, I've already had a good healthy meal. Then I couldn't stop. This is one of those bad for you, but you can't stop, things. I have thought about it frequently since that day. I told them to never bring me one again. But I keep picturing those red potato skins, and tasting that warm creamy inside. They are truly evil fellow employees, even though they tried to make it look like they were doing something nice. They were just opening another door to evil. If they order there again for an office function, I will try to say no to that side. But that's what I think today. Will I have the strength when the time comes? |
| This week a new network was launched--the Atheist Network. It will also include the Internet. At the launching party the president of the group stated that since Christians are using new technology and the media, that they will, too. So if Atheists believe there is no god, why do they single out Christians and ignore all other world religions? Muslims claim to have the same god, but with a different understanding of him. Muslims are stricter about practicing their beliefs and evangelizing than Christians. And what about Hindus and Buddhists? Do they not also threaten Atheists? And if they are reacting to Christians, then maybe Christian groups are having more impact than they realize. But why do atheists feel threatened by people who believe differently than they do? It would seem like if someone is a true atheist, he would not care if someone else did something he believed inane. A lot of people are superstitious about black cats or spilled salt. I know that's unsubstantiated, but I don't feel a need to correct everyone or spend money or a lot of effort to teach them not to be superstitious. I'm not saying religion or belief in a god is superstition. I'm comparing it to what atheists claim to believe. I just don't get their drive or passion about this. Hold a different set of beliefs. But don't try to make everybody else feel or think like you. |
| It's amazing how much helping someone else can help you. Even in the play "Avenue Q", one of the final songs advises to help others and your life will be better. Once I was friends with a self-centered man who always felt sorry for himself and whined constantly. He groaned about his own family of origin. Now this guy was older than me, and at the time was too old to be fretting about not getting enough attention from his mother in his childhood. I tried not to be rude, but I finally got tired of hearing it. One day I told him to stop feeling sorry for himself and go do some charity. I told him if he saw how other people had to live and what they suffered, maybe he'd feel better about himself. He got really angry at me and told me off. Finally, I stopped taking his calls and wouldn't let him come by any more. He showed up one day with his girlfriend, just as I was going out on a date. I had locked the door, but we couldn't get out the driveway while he was parked there. The girlfriend was obviously embarrassed by his dropping by and not leaving when we were trying to go. A year later he called me at work to tell me he was seeing a psychiatrist. Guess what! The doctor told him to stop feeling sorry for himself and do some volunteer work. His life would feel better. Now he wanted me to know I was right. He couldn't listen to me for free, but had to pay someone with a license on the wall to say the same thing. C. S. Lewis said practice charity even when you don't feel charitable. Do it, and the feelings will come later. So try it. You'll like it. |
| I love old movies. Tonight I watched Shenandoah with James Stewart. He was the only actor I remembered from the first time I saw it at the drive-in. That gives my age away--I actually went to a drive-in theater. But now that I've watched a lot more movies, I recognize a young Katherine Ross and Doug McClure, who was a TV star at the time of the movie. I remember that I liked it a lot when I was young. So did my friends and my parents. My parents loved anything that Jimmy Stewart did. My friends all sang or hummed the theme song or played it on piano. Most of the acting was done by Stewart, and it wasn't his greatest part. All the others were supporting players with minor roles. They did little speaking. McClure and the actor who played the only daughter did more with facial expressions and limited action than with words. The sixteen year old son had the next most important role, and he had very little dialog. At the end he walked with a crutch and when he reunited with his family, he was crying. I cried along with him. Maybe I've gotten old and cynical. In theory I could sympathize with a man who remained neutral in a war, made no comment on it, and refused to provide supplies to either side, yet lost two sons and a daughter-in-law, and had a 3rd son kidnapped. I thought it was sad that the couple were split apart at their wedding ceremony; I remarked that it was nice they got to have a honeymoon night much later. I thought the other murders were unfortunate, but the only true emotion that crept up on me was the final scene with that teenager who had been so brave and scared and made it back home on his own under horrendous circumstances. He kept all his feelings pent up until he was back in the arms of his father, then it all came pouring out. So now I'm wondering it it really wasn't that moving a film after all, or maybe I have gotten hard-hearted. |
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