Monthly Archives: September 2016
Grace Comes in our Helplessness and in the Present Moment
For me who naturally lives in the ideal land of possibilities, it takes both faith and perseverance to find grace when facing the harsh limits of human reality. I can only stand up to my inner Greek Chorus, that keeps me frighteningly aware of my frailties, by focusing on God who simply says over and over, “I love you.”
Some twenty-five years ago by the end of my mother’s fourteen years of dying by inches from Alzheimer’s, I really wasn’t strong enough to devote myself to holding her hand and sitting helplessly with her at the foot of her cross. It was partly because of my own emotional weakness, some because of selfishness, but ultimately because her suffering shook my faith in God.
Now, I’m being challenged once again to seek grace to live that out as my husband’s Idiopathic Pulmonary Fibrosis progresses. Some personalities are naturally reasonably good at accepting reality, however harsh it may be. But I’ve always been a change agent, a problem solver, a person that is good at finding alternative solutions.
Now, I know that there comes a time when that is not what we are able or even called to do, no matter how naturally good we are at it.
We are called to find grace in our weakness. But that is terrifying and only done by staying aware that though we are not good at this, God is and God is with us.
And grace comes only in the present moment. That is where God meets us. And learning to live in the present moment is a whole new way of being in the world for many of us. Some of us live in the past, while others focus on the future. I’ve always focused on the future with its infinite possibilities. So my first challenge is to only ask where is God in this moment and reach for His hand. My second challenge is to accept that God isn’t asking me to solve anything, but to trust and stay with Him in the circumstances, like Mary at the foot of the cross of those we love most.
The Song in My Head
The song in my head won’t stop
no matter how I try to drown it out.
I have a Greek Chorus always
providing back ground music.
They sing Bass while I sing Treble,
overwhelming my feeble voice
defending my reason for being.
Over and over the chorus sings,
“You’re no good! You’re no good!”
I hear it echoed in small slights,
whether imaginary or real,
in jokes that sound like put downs,
in my endless longing for affirmation.
And my envy of my friends’ success
Just confirms that awful chorus,
“You’re no good.”
Yes, Eileen, America Has Changed for the Better
Lately, seeing people support politicians who are appealing to the worst in Americans, I get extremely discouraged about the future of my country.
But, today I was watching Notre Dame play football against Texas. The Texas coach is African American. I lived in Texas and went to Rice University in Houston. But for Thanksgiving of my Junior Year, I flew to Notre Dame for their football game and to become engaged to my high school sweetheart, who was a Senior there. Carolyn, a friend of mine who grew up like I did in Louisiana and Texas, flew up with me. Back then, Notre Dame was a guys’ only school and we couldn’t even sit with our dates, who had to sit as a group with their fellow students.
So these two little Southern gals were in the nose bleed section at the top of the stadium, freezing from snow on the benches and under our feet. We couldn’t even pick our dates out of the pack from that distance. After a few plays, Carolyn, squinting at the tiny players below asked in her southern drawl, “How can that California player catch passes with those long black gloves on?” There were some snickers from a few people close to us and I realized that it was the player that was black, not gloves.
We had never seen a black football player in the South.
I ended up moving to a small rural town in Tennessee the first year the schools were integrated. But for quite a while, that’s all that were integrated. Now, one of my doctors is African American and his wife and I attend the same bible study. She and her husband are planning on adding on to their home and are considering hiring my architect husband. And the owner of the local radio station where my son is News Director is also African American.
Everywhere I go in town there are mixed marriages and multi-racial families. Like everything else, neighborhoods are integrated. And this has happened in one life time.
And yes, there is still prejudice and racial tension in America, but thanks to Martin Luther King, we have come a very very long way.
FREE on Amazon! DO NOT WASH HANDS IN PLATES. Maybe it’s a sign? #travel #humor #memoir
Wonderful!
I admit it. I don’t get Amazon. Why is this free?
In their infinitely mysterious wisdom, Amazon has lowered the price of DO NOT WASH HANDS IN PLATES down to well…nothing. Nada. Zilch. No moola.
Click on image for preview, reviews, and FREE book on Amazon!
Ours not to reason why, but instead to haul over there and get that free copy before Amazon figures out their mistake. And I’ll need to get moving on getting the next book in the series out there. Look for it in December! Meanwhile—what are you waiting for? Get your FREE copy here.
And to celebrate, here is another freebie—a preview of our next travel book!
Signs, signs, everywhere the signs…
[If you’re old enough to remember Five Man Electric Band from early ’70s, I apologize for the Signs earworm. The rest of you are safe.]
When I travel, I realize how much I depend on signs. Here are a few…
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