Black Friday and Solitude

A lack of  contact with people is solitude.

If you were a Black-Friday shopper, you may be over-due for a little solitude.

However, one doesn't need Black Friday to be inundated with noise and activities. Entering a sports bar one evening, we heard conversations, music, and at least fifteen different television sets with various games and sitcoms.

In our homes, we have television--some of us, 24/7-- where actors or talk-show participants interrupt each other. Movies provide action-packed shoot-outs, accidents, etc. with complementary NOISE.

Phones blurp or sing to let us know of calls and messages; computers do likewise. Depending on your work place--noises vary from ear-plug demanding sounds to constant chatter where cubicle offices are lined up for long stretches. Games? Concerts? Does anyone think all this noise is over-done?

When is the last time you heard the gurgle of a brook, the rush of the wind through the trees? Can you hear the tick-tock of your clock? If it were quiet enough, could you hear the snow fall?

Solitude
Saturated with quiet
And comfortable in my skin
I'm down to earth
Above the clouds
And somewhere in between
I'm content.

Be still and know....    

Yes, the shopping will get done, the decorating will be good enough. Drop what you're doing and rest a bit. You may catch a snowflake or two or feel the sunshine on your face.              

Happy Giving Thanks

The first Thanksgivings were harvest festivals where families and friends gathered to enjoy the fruits of their labors. We can imagine the women and children bustling in the kitchen and pantry areas for days to prepare a feast of pies,various sweets and breads, garden vegetables, and meats.

The thought of getting together, eating together, and giving thanks together before winter weather must have exited the children for weeks before the actual event.

Today, kitchen technology has made life easier. We don't have to spend days preparing our family feast. We can even order take-out with all the trimmings from Hy-Vee. Traditional foods are still anticipated along with time off from work, visiting with family and friends, and early holiday sales. 

While listening to Christian radio,

an announcer encouraged listeners to call in

and share what they were thankful for.

Unanimous answers were--family, friends, work, community, church, and God.

Although these are typically our most-praised blessings, I'm asking you to "think outside the box." In another words, give thanks for family, friends, work, community, your church, and especially praise God and, then, do a little creative thinking.

What else are you thankful for?

 

My list: 

*New friends who came into my life for various reasons.

*The energy level of 8 grandchildren: they play hide-and-seek, checkers, cards, and understand the beauty of family although they could not tell you why.  

*A tree planted last spring that surpassed expectations in growth and beauty.

*A vulnerable friend who trusts me enough to ask for prayers.

*The wind. There's something about the wind. It scuttles the clouds, changes the weather, sweeps the clutter and tainted leaves down the street. One cannot see it and yet it is there. It keeps me company in my sleepless hours, gives me reason to open the curtains in the early morning. What's it up to today? I ask.

 

I've found that most of the time, it is the little things in life that bring us joy.

Seek it. Be thankful for it.

 

Happy Giving Thanks.
 

 

Letters From God

I find letters from God dropped in the street,
and everyone is signed by God's name,
and I leave them where they are,
for I know that others will punctually come
forever and ever.
       Walt Whitman



Discovering Whitman's poem, I was reminded of an Alpha Writer's assignment: Use the first line from an already-published poem and change the rest to be yours. So, here goes....

I find letters from God dropped at my feet,

The first dandelions of spring

A maple leaf perfectly formed

A gathering of snow flakes

Each signed with yours truly, respectfully yours, or love you forever....

And the notation RSVP.
      

      

How often do we not RSVP when admiring God's incredible creation?
Whitman tells us that "others" will punctually come--forever and ever--so God gives us lots of opportunities to respond.

There are things about him that people can not see. . .

But since the beginning of the world

those things have been made easy to understand

by what God has made.

Romans 1:20

It is November. A frosting on the earth is a promise of heavenly flakes to come. We prepare to be thankful for the harvest; we prepare to soon celebrate a birth that changed the world.

With new beginnings

God calls us

continually

to respond to his love

because He first loved us.

 

Taken care of that RSVP to God yet?

It's never too late....

but why wait?

 



70 Years Ago... And, Now.

_{October 30, 1947, Iowa}

_{In the early morning hours, a thirteen month old bundle snuggles between Mommy and Daddy in a 1940 Plymouth. With a suitcase tossed in the backseat, they start the ten mile trip with a feeling of expectancy. A whimper escapes from the little one, and Mommy pulls him as close as possible--a baby sister still hibernating in her enormous tummy.}

_{After a quick drop off of their toddler at Auntie's apartment—with promises of treats and a toy train--they check in at the hospital.}

_{"Go. Get something to eat," she encourages her husband. "This always takes time." She lies uncomfortably in a hospital bed beside the elevator; there are no rooms available. He hesitates, knowing he is not a part of this process, and then leaves, feeling all of a sudden isolated, lonely, and yet filled with anticipation.}

_{A chubby baby girl with a headful of dark, curly hair arrives before my dad returns. . . . I have no recollection of all of this, of course. My first memory involves sitting with big brother on a linoleum floor, a wooden toy box between us.}

_{Of course, tons of memories were to follow—some sad, some bad, some happy, some so-so, some not worth remembering. I think about memories more than I used to. With age, I’ve become more reflective. With age, I have more time to think, consider, wonder, and perceive things differently. With age comes wisdom, it has been said. At least, the opportunities are available to do so.}

_{As a child growing up with numerous brothers, chickens running amuck in the farmyard, pens of cows and pigs, and surrounded by fields of hay, beans, and corn, I never dreamed of flying above the clouds or venturing across an ocean. Little did I know about life to come. . . .}

_{October 30, 2017, California}

_{A man of professional football build approaches us with a believable story.  He has lost his billfold and needs gas money to get home. He is moderately dressed, clean, has had a recent haircut, nice shoes. We wonder. My husband ultimately digs in his pocket and billfold for cash.}

_{A weathered man, complexion nature-formed, sits beside me, ocean front with yachts and fishing boats galore behind us. His car was towed; the cost of getting it back was prohibitive. He lives with a friend on his houseboat-- JESUS SAVES printed on a large banner on the side.}

_{A young lad--a mere 23, with no home, no car, no job, no family-- does have a seat at the bus stop on Rosecranz Street and someone to talk to (us), but no place to go. We offer advice: get your GED, go to a church, go to a court house, ask for help from social services. We offer a banana and a granola bar.}

_{"No thanks; you keep it," he says.}

_{"It's yours, I say," and place it beside him on the bench. "What's your name?" I ask.}

_{"Sam," he replies. He extends his hand. We wish him luck, and tell him we will pray that something good happens. I think of prostitution, drugs, and all the ugly things that could pull him under.}

_{On a busy city bus, ladies with outdated hats, Bibles in hand, proper facades, discerning smiles watch us. A man with jerky arm, leg, and head movements framed by a confining wheel chair wheels onto the bus and stations himself across from us. He tries a smile; it is crooked.}

_{A girl dressed in good-will clothing and a perpetual smile boards with a sweet lime plant almost her size. A man with short shorts, a striped fall sweater, and a backpack follows along with others; some with hoodies hiding faces and others searching faces as they seek an empty seat.}

_{It's a glimmer of life we don't see while living in small town, rural America.}

_{That night while waiting for the coziness of sleep that does not come easily anymore, I think about turning 70 and what it is supposed to mean for me... Considering childhood memories, struggles with relationships, caring for a family, my job, adjusting to retirement, and aging parents-- exactly what does it mean to celebrate another year of life?  With age comes wisdom? How about, with age comes vulnerability? With age, comes a variety of perceptions. With age, comes new questions and difficult-to-find answers.}

 Erich From wrote, "The whole of life of the individual is nothing but the process of giving birth to himself; indeed we should be fully born when we die."

... hopefully I'm on my way to being "fully born."