Lost Horizon

I picked out the smallest book I could find in our school library for my report. Mrs. Anderson, my esteemed English teacher, was speechless. I was a good student, and, here, I had picked out LOST HORIZON, by James Hilton, probably the shortest novel in the school library.

Why? I didn’t especially like to read. I found it an effort.
She asked me to re-think my decision. I told her I was comfortable with the book I had chosen but started to re-think my position as I walked back to my seat and spotted all the one to three inch hardback novels being read by my classmates. I felt about as small as my skinny paperback.

LOST HORIZON, however, is assured a place in publishing history in that it was the first novel published in paperback in 1939. And, made into a film in 1973…. which proves a book does not have to be of epic proportions to be successful. (Okay, need a smiley face, here.)

Somehow, my world changed in many ways, and I became an avid reader in college and beyond. I also started to write (short books and one of more novel proportions).  So, if there’s a needed reason here for my LOST HORIZON story, it is that we change, or, at least, we are capable of doing so.

What lies ahead? I’ll continue to read and write. I just started Michener’s HAWAII—talk about a book of epic proportions. Writing? The thought of writing another novel is a tad over-whelming. I have ideas. Writers always have ideas—sometimes too many. 

Mrs. Anderson died many years ago. But, I think she would be tickled with the idea that I have a Michener novel in my hands and that I’ve come up with a novel or two or more myself.

Shadows

When you think of shadows, 
   what are your thoughts?

Phantoms, alternated forms, darkness, and words like gloom and unhappiness arise if it is a day when your glass is half full.




It's that time of the year.  The weather turns cool. Jack-o-lanterns, scare-crows, wispy ghost figures, and frightening masks fill the store shelves and your neighbors' front porches.


When I was little and alone, shadows scared me.  With the moon creeping through an upstairs window at night and tree branches scratching the outside walls of the house, goosebumps spread on my arms and legs as the shadows scattered across my bedroom floor. 

Shadows gave rise to thoughts of other creatures.  None of them warm and fuzzy.

I had a night-time ritual. Getting down on my hands and knees, I would flip back the chenille bedspread to watch the dust bunnies scatter.  Determining it was safe under the bed, I would go to the closet. Taking a deep breath, I would grasp the handle, turn it quietly, and then whip the door open. Of course, I found nothing.

I outgrew this ritual--thankfully. However, shadows of a different nature pursued me as I journeyed life..... worry, doubt, disappointment, sickness, loneliness, rejection, guilt?



We live in a fear-based world, a world where bad news travels at light speed and good news doesn't. . . . These are troubled times, times when we have legitimate fears for the future, our nation, our world, and our families.... (Day 165, 365 Daily Devotions for Women)

Tribulation

without trust in an almighty God

separates us

from Him.

...but as Christians we have every reason to live courageously.

Yes, You Can Be a Neuroplastician

You don't have to go back to college or sign up for an on-line class. Becoming a neuroplastician is easier than you think.

Neuroplasticity is the ability to reorganize itself by forming new neural connections. Dr. Caroline Leaf, who studies neuroplasticity, said, “Our thoughts occupy mental ‘real estate.’ Thoughts are active; they grow and change… Every time you have a thought, it is actively changing your brain and your body—for better or for worse.”

Scary thought! Whoops, forget that. Let’s go with “interesting information.”

So, how do I get rid of all that negative stuff whirling around in my head? To begin, I can recognize them and start to dismantle each one. If your head is full of thoughts of doubt, fear, insecurity, bitterness, indecent imaginations--start the dismantling process.

Many years ago, when an early morning alarm jangled, I said, a nasty word. I knew this was ungodly, of course. So, I threw out the nasty word and started to say “fudge.” Fudge might have sounded better than the “s” word; however, my attitude was still the same (negative).

After much prayer and re-winding  that early morning tape, I started out my mornings differently. A Bible verse came to mine, a favorite hymn, a psalm.

Psalm 121 has been a recent favorite early morning beginning....

 

Neuroplastician or not, these lines from Psalm 121 are better than an early morning “fudge” any old day.

 

Coffee and Me

After a short drive to Kwik Star each morning for my coffee, I gave in and bought a Kuerig One-cupper to replace my worn-out pot. After all, a morning without coffee is not a good way to start out my day.

My first memory of coffee is the tin pot bubbling on the stove soon after sunrise while bacon sizzled in the frying pan next to it. I watched my parents drink it with their breakfast of eggs, bacon, and toast. Dad would come in mid-morning for his second cup, the smell of farm animals on his coveralls.

In the church basement, as an older child, I would tie on my best apron and work in a large kitchen with my mother and the “circle” ladies cutting donated cakes and making sandwiches. Several large, blue-speckled pots sat on the stove top, a worthy flame underneath. Although I wondered, “Why the egg?” –I never asked.

I never had an interest in tasting the black liquid until I went to college and heard that the caffeine in coffee would enable me to study without falling asleep. And, so, I took sips—grimacing with each gulp, in the wee hours of morning on test day. Grimacing that is, until I discovered the caramel, gooey, humungous rolls in the campus cafeteria.  A cup of somewhat bitter, hot coffee was the right balance between the brown-sugary sweet roll.

When I started teaching, I would wait for my first cup until I got to school where a 24-cupper stood grandly in the teacher workroom and the teachers gathered for their good-mornings. After several years of teaching and a move or two, I provided day-care in our home. I started out each day, rain, shine, or blizzard by walking to the Kum and Go with my plastic re-fill cup. I’d choose the donut with cherry filling and chocolate icing, fill my cup, and walk home....

Today, I listen to the swish of my Kuerig One-Cupper, get out my Bible study materials, and settle at the dining room table for an hour. This time of content, this time of peace, this time with the Holy Scripture is my impetus for getting out of bed in the morning. It is sweeter than any caramel or jelly-filled roll.

Psalm 119:103  How sweet are your words to my taste, sweeter than honey to my mouth!

 

Lesson From an Apple Tree

Note the hold in the base of the tree....

When visiting a friend’s farm recently, we ventured in and out of farm buildings, noted the fields glowing with golden corn stalks, and came upon several apple trees. One was especially intriguing. Not because of its beauty or the ample apples it provided, but because of its age and decrepitude.

Its branches were twisted and ancient. It’s core was partly missing. Disabled? Too old to bare fruit? Below it rested dozens of apples. It’s branches were blessed with many more. I had a feeling that the apple tree’s roots had something to do with its ability to bear fruit and the over-all appearance of strength, in spite of the large gap in its core.

I brought several home and made an apple pie....

I think there’s a lesson, here. I may be old (or getting there). I may be disabled in some way: bad hip, poor memory, hurt heart. But, one is never too anything to not bear fruit. Good fruit!

John 15: 8 tells us, By this my Father is glorified, that you bear much fruit and so prove to be my disciples.

Sometimes, I think I'm too weary to be purposeful. The apple tree, in all its glory, showed me there is a different way to think.

 

That's Where the Tall Corn Grows

 

“We’re from Iowa, Iowa, that’s where the tall corn grows,” as the song goes. This picture of my mother was taken when she was 19-20 in the 1940’s. Her father was a seed corn dealer, and she often helped him in the fields. Please note that even though it was harvest time, the corn is not that tall.

Due to nutrients, hybrids, etc., our corn can grow as high as eight feet.  (The world record is over 30 feet!) “Knee high by the 4^th of July” no longer applies to our corn stalks.

 

It is also true that humans, in general, have grown significantly taller than their ancestors. According to my google search, it all comes down to nutrients: vitamins, minerals and proteins. This not only affects us physically, but intellectually. After all, look at all that has been achieved in the last decade or two or three that only very clever minds could accomplish.

So I think it’s safe to say that we are stronger physically and intellectually.

I’m not sure about our emotional and spiritual strengths. In a recent New York Times article, “Making Modern Toughness,” David Brooks asked veteran college teachers and administrators to describe how college students have changed over the years. The answer often was: “Today’s students are more accomplished than past generations, but they are also more emotionally fragile.” There are obviously a variety of reasons for this.

Spiritually? Many of our churches across the world sit more empty than full on a Sunday morning. I’m not saying you cannot be spiritually fed without being in church. But, it has to help.

Where am I going with all this?

I’m not sure, other than it gives one something to think about….

Plus, I really like this picture of my mom, the corn, and the clouds…. Perhaps a harvest setting capable of more serenity than large machines marching through the fields.