Touchstones

This is an interesting word. For me it’s always meant someone who brings me back to earth, a reality check, someone by whom I can find comfort or place, or peace. The word actually is defined as “a test or criterion for the qualities of a thing”, it’s something- a stone- that was used to determine the purity of a precious metal (read: gold). For me it’s another word for a good friend. Someone who, even if they let you down they are still in your life. It’s not like they drop out of your realm of existence. I have a very few friends like that, well only a couple really, who I may not hear from in oh, maybe a year, but when we reconnect it’s like time never passed. We are essentially the same, whatever we are reconnecting for- a problem, a joy, just to talk. These people do not flatter, they do not lie, they do not manipulate or try to figure out what it is I “want” to hear. That’s why they are so important. They tell the truth and what I need to hear. And they are always right. We want what is best for each other, we have no agendas, no subversive motives.

And if they do let you down, maybe it’s me who needs to look at the disappointment. Maybe it’s something I need to redo, relearn, understand better. We are on the same wavelength, our radars read the same blips. Sometimes those blips are better handled with a friend like this. Sometimes when I do try to handle something on my own I find out the hard way I needed someone with me in it.

Family members can be touchstones. My brother is one. He and I have a history- our entire lives- together. So by virtue of what we lived through we have a basis of understanding we won’t have with anyone else. We lived through the function or dysfunction of our family and learned to use it for strength or how to laugh about it. My son is another. As he has grown into his depths he has learned to temper a lot of what he and I lived through with greater compassion, but we still laugh about things, too.

I guess touchstones, when they are people are not so much a thing that tells you the quality of a precious stone, they are the precious stone itself.

Misery loves company (… and it’s never their fault …)

You know, I feel really sorry for unhappy people. And I don’t mean those who are down on their luck, unemployed, childless, alone, sick or facing unimaginable challenges. I mean those people who seem to have it all, who have the great house, kids, marriage, club membership, education, substantial income, car, maybe a boat… and they still cannot find something (or things) to be grateful for. They take it all for granted. It’s never enough. They find things wrong with everything and most other people. Nothing’s ever right. These people are soul vampires, I’m telling you. Stay around them too long and the life will drain right out of your blood.

I have worked with people like this. I have met people like this at parties, while traveling, or just even in the grocery store. They are neighbors, they can be anywhere. And you can’t tell them anything. There is no amount of positive news, or sensible advice or future hope that will affect them in any way. Not sure what to do about them, almost as if they try to put you down in that abysmal pit with them. Maybe they think if they can do that they will have something to use to climb out themselves. Then what?? There you are, down in all that muck. But you know what? The muck wasn’t yours to begin with so, *poof*! It disappears. You have your life back. Or rather, you never lost it, you just put it out on loan for a while, but since it wasn’t used you get it back. Or even if it was used, it’s still yours.

You know, it’s just so much easier to say “Thank you.”

Miracles

This word immediately evokes thoughts brinking on magic, something superhuman, supernatural, beyond understanding. Probably because they are but for me they are also protection, heroic, something God will do just at the point I think the darkness is going to overcome the light of that tiny candle and snuff it out. I cannot imagine a darkness so impenetrable that even the slightest glimmer (hope) cannot penetrate it. Today we need miracles, I think, more than ever. But can we be instruments to encourage the actual happening of a miracle? I think we can.

Look at how many times doctors have given a patient over to beyond help and the patient has miraculously healed. It wasn’t necessarily an anomaly of science or nature. Or something simple yet incredibly inexplicable as the refraction of light through a drop of water or a prism. The brilliant magnification of clear and pure color sprayed across a moistened sky or the wall of your home.

There are those times when, despite all our meager efforts, the human spirit has sunk to a place where it appears hopeless and devoid of rescue or enlightenment. Just at that point Someone smiles, our dim darkness is lifted and we soar beyond the boundaries of our captivity. Oh, our circumstances may not have changed, but our spirit is renewed and light has returned to our souls.

A light that can not, will not be extinguished.

Mega faith?

I occasionally visit a church with 3-4,000 members. A mega-church some would call it. Yesterday a guest pastor gave a sermon based on 1st Timothy 1:12-16. Let me first qualify my subsequent comments to say this: Christianity is lifelong learning for me. Some days I “get it”. Some days I probably should just pull the covers up and wait till the light shines again. Yesterday I got something that made me wonder about not just me, but people in general. The pastor was a heavily-accented Puerto Rican, so he said, but I found no problem understanding every word he spoke. Did he make that claim to apologize for those of us who would not get his message? Give us a scapegoat? That’s not fair. I understood his words clearly, and think I also even understood the basis of what he explained those words to mean: namely, no matter how anti-Christian, ill- or well-intentioned or insufferable we are, God’s mercy, grace and forgiveness are available to each one of us in accepting what Jesus did by his crucifixion, death and resurrection for us. As Paul says in this passage, ” … He considered me faithful, putting me into service, even though I was formerly a blasphemer and a persecutor and a violent aggressor. Yet I was shown mercy because I acted ignorantly in unbelief.” (v v. 12a, 13) (1) God’s love extends to each one of us. Every human on the planet. Every day. You do realize what that means, don’t you? Not just you, or me, but every jail-incarcerated prisoner, every prisoner to addiction or habit, every individual with pre-meditated malice or evil, even every terrorist. Every person.

So I looked over those seated in this vast congregation. I’m thinking to myself, How many of these people who are hearing this sermon, including me, are actually listening? How many of us will leave this place reassured knowing God’s love is for us? For me? For you? And will know the absolute, pure joy of that forgiveness, grace and love that we accept in what Jesus did for each of us? Or do we just get back in our cars, drive to the restaurant to meet other church-goers, or drive ourselves or our families home maybe arguing on the way what chores need to be done or how some offhand comment made us feel? Will we remember what we heard in that sermon by the Puerto Rican-accented pastor?

Will we live it?

(1)Holy Bible, New American Standard version

In-laws

Now, here is a touchy subject. Or not if you are one of those blessed with families who are determined to be supportive, encouraging, friendly and in strong hope of a well-nurtured union. I don’t even have them (anymore) having been divorced for over 30 years. It’s not so much a toss-up, in the cards, luck of the draw, or any of those other mild-mannered excuses. It’s hard work! My own parents wanted to be ‘good’ in-laws but still wanted to have their daughter. Suffice to say it’s not enough to abide by the old adage, “A son’s a son till he takes a wife but a daughter’s a daughter for the rest of her life”. We all need our parents, some more than others, in very different ways and for many reasons. And these change over the years as we ourselves change. (I nearly fell over when my ex-mother-in-law offered to and did pay for my son’s college tuition. I never saw that coming and am still grateful to her and have told her so.) Even so, the so-called extended family needs to understand that at times that extension does not include many dispensations or opportunities. Some traditions need to if not stop at least be tweaked a bit to allow for the traditions of the new couple and family. Grace must abound, and tongues ought to be held or tempers rise and occasionally flame into if not conflagrations certainly destruction. Yes, there is such a thing as creative destruction but that is commonly used in business, not a marriage. If love isn’t the central force and motivator in a family it becomes choked, starved, sterile. It can be restored and healing can take place but only when everyone is a player and takes part in the healing. There need to be ground rules, thought processes may need to be elaborated, understanding needs to be clarified.

And no one can do anyone else’s part. It is all for one, one for all.

Town hall meetings

So I went to one of these yesterday, given by a Congressman I did vote for. Not sure what a thing like that would be like with a legislator I didn’t vote for. Standing room only. The amazing thing to me was how many people were there who did not agree with the congressman. And they were vocal. He limited the meeting to 90 minutes, spoke himself for about 30 minutes outlining his own priorities, thoughts on America, particularly the astounding and ever-rising debt, the present administration. Pretty fair, I thought. Gave each attendee a folder (on all-recycled paper) with current bills, bills he supports, co-sponsors, information on the healthcare act that’s so controversial.

After his comments he opened the floor to the audience with about 3 or 4 of his aides holding microphones, questions limited to one minute which didn’t happen. Out of, say, 25 questions, 5 were hecklers, 8 were anti-conservative, one was more or less commentary of his own stance and ideas and the remaining were from people who were former military, worried about healthcare, America, polarization, impeachment of the president. I noted one Black gentleman in the entire room. Probably divided pretty equally between men and women.

Through it all the congressman remained calm, well-informed, pleasant, polite and only once or twice asked for respectful behavior. He appeared strong, convicted, realizing that presently there may be many things going on in our country we do not like or agree with but that it is still resilient. There is still hope for redemption, correction, renewal and growth.

 

For this cynic, I was encouraged.

Best intentions

One of my best attributes is also one of my greatest failings. I am a good listener. But if someone asks me to tell a bit about myself I need a necessary, built-in stop. The road to hell is paved with good intentions, another adage heard first from my ex-husband. This is not to say my parents did not attempt to instill me with wisdom, they just didn’t use cliches. They rather chose to either lead by example, or explain truth and wisdom whenever I fell into a self-made mudhole, which in my life happened more often than I like to remember. According to Wikipedia, if you ascribe to their site, “Saint Bernard of Clairvaux who wrote (c. 1150), ‘L’enfer est plein de bonnes volontés et désirs’ (hell is full of good wishes and desires). An earlier saying occurs in Virgil’s Aeneid: ‘facilis descensus Averno’ (It is easy to go to hell).” (1)

So today I took a meal to an acquaintance who is finishing a round of chemo for triple-negative breast cancer. Today she needed to talk. Today she needed someone to listen. We began our visit with a question from her: Tell her a bit more about myself, was I working, where I grew up, went to school. So on my tapestry ride I forgot that this was not an everyday friend visit. This is a person with maybe numbered days. Well, we all have numbered days but hers may be less than hoped. Her stamina is not strong. She needs more rest. She began a few times (once ignored is inexcusable) to tell me her thoughts, hopes, considerations of her now and possibilities of the chance of a then. I needed to shut down. Give her the floor, the spotlight, not try to intervene, associate my experience with hers. On my last visit I told her how brave I think she is. Today she needed to tell me. So when I realized my overtime was up and stood to go, she apologized for her pain. I said something absurd like I could imagine. Really?? immediately I corrected myself. No, I cannot imagine, I demurred, and said that I would see her again.

I hope so.

(1) (–Wikipedia® is a registered trademark of the Wikimedia Foundation, Inc., a non-profit organization). ^ Christine Ammer (1997), The American Heritage dictionary of idioms, ISBN 9780395727744 ^ Mrs E. B. Mawr (1885), “Hell is paved with good intentions”, Analogous Proverbs In Ten Languages, Elliot Stock

Challenges

We all encounter them. From the most cowardly, to whom a challenge might be a hangnail or split-ends, to the most robust who have battled dreaded diseases, the worst persecution, or returning from war to find not only are you profoundly different but as a result so are who, what and where you left. Some face whatever their challenge head-on. Fearless. Some stop and, if able, consider options. Some run the other way only to find what they hoped was evasion turns into another challenge or, worse, a reversal of life. No, it is always best when presented with one to face it. Then, as you are, as it is. It likely will not diminish and by facing it your perspective keeps it real. It is manageable or insurmountable but there it is. Some pray. Some feel the prayer is all they need with no action other than the praying. That is seldom true. By praying we are asking a God Who loves us, Who knows us better than anyone else or even than we ever will to help us. And by taking our part in the facing of whatever it is He diminishes our pain, makes our efforts seem effortless. And then it is over. We have come to the other side of it, however and whatever it was. And we give thanks. We look around and feel somehow stronger, better, clearer. We have achieved conquest. We move on. Forward. Upward. Lifeward. “…having done all, to stand.” (Eph. 6:13)

Moving??

So a few months ago I thought I would list my house FSBO and look for a smaller house or maybe a condo or townhouse closer to my church, friends, volunteering. No idea how something so simple could turn so wretched. Print slick brochures, great pictures, low asking price. Clean house, take pictures off walls, spackle, paint, everything but my kitchen has been upgraded just about- new roof, all new flooring: hardwoods, tile, carpet in guest bedrooms. New a/c compressor, water heater, fence repaired, new waterproofing and vents under the house, termite inspection, no termites. That part was easy. The hard part? All those people who jet in from some alien galaxy that programs them to refuse to pay earnest money, calls every day several times a day making demands. Stuff realtors never tell you they have to deal with. Things change. When I sold a condo in the mid-90s it wasn’t like this. The 3rd person who saw it agreed to my asking price, a week later I’d found a place to move, the closing attorney handled both. Done. So I took the sign out of my yard and still have people asking about it. It’s a nice house and certainly doesn’t need much done at this point. Everything works (so far– knock wood): kitchen appliances, furnace. At this point pretty low maintenance. I already did everything else. It’s got pretty landscaping, irrigation (that I never use). The market is even cooperating. But all the boxes I had packed and stacked in my 2-car garage were starting to collapse on each other. I hadn’t even packed any books, just everything else. So I unpacked everything. Now it’s too much to think about packing up again! Pictures stacked against the walls– I haven’t the heart to rehang them. Even my kitchen appliances- electric can opener, most utensils, toaster- are still put away. Ok, so it’s easy to go without toast or find another way (oven works), but that can opener? The manual one doesn’t quite grab the rim of a can the same. And as for coffee, I use a French press. I made lousy coffee in the coffeemaker anyway. Maybe I’ll get a head of steam up come winter when it’s cold and I’m mostly inside. We’ll see. I do not give up on projects easily. But I’m definitely thinking of listing with a realtor. Let them deal with the buyers. I won’t even need to be home.

Tangled webs

“Oh what a tangled web we weave when first we practice to deceive.” People quote this wrongly attributing it to Shakespeare. I first heard it from my ex-husband who did not credit it to anyone. It was in Walter Scott’s poem, “Marmion” (1808). It’s kind of the moral of the poem, based on a love triangle where somebody actually dies. Suffice to say it really makes things bad when someone lies. It complicates everything. The person(s) lied to believe it because we don’t want to have the baggage of trust issues all over us, and basically we want to believe in people. So the liar has to perpetuate the lie, or completely discredit him/herself and own up to being a liar. Who wants that? Then it takes on a life of its own, this lie, kind of like a cancer. Its host, the liar, abandons reality in order to perpetuate this alternate universe, started by a simple, little lie. It’s easier to eat some humble pie, admit to the thing and get on with it. Maybe s/he loses credibility with a person or some persons. Maybe a lot of people. Maybe those people believe in second chances and the liar had a clean slate before. Then it’s easier to put the trust option out there again. But if this was a chronic situation, second chances having been had all around before it’s way harder. The liar might as well move, change jobs, or just dig a hole and wait things out. Do people forget? Some might. Some might not, but are willing to forgive, but they remember what happened so their antenna are up, you know, just in case.

What the heck. Being honest, telling the truth is a whole lot easier. At least you can sleep.