Being Human

Humans are a judgmental lot. Religious or non-religious, we judge from the time we get up in the morning until we close our eyes at night.

We judge how people dress (I would never wear that!).

Well, I might not but it's because it looks horrible on me.

How they raise their children (I'd never let mine do that!).

Their little noses will be snotty and they'll have chocolate stains on their shirts, no matter what.

The way people vote. (Why, you're just stupid and uneducated and from the South)

No, no and yes.

The way people worship (you can't worship God in a contemporary service -- it's in the Bible!)

Oh, really? Where exactly?

Even saying someone shouldn't be judgmental is being judgmental. I mean, after all, what is judging but thinking somebody is doing something the wrong way -- or not the way you would do it?

I guess this hit home today because of the death of Bin Laden. So many people were quick to judge others who they felt were being a little too celebratory. I'm not saying that some words/actions weren't over the top but I can't help but feel that most people were celebrating not so much the death of an individual but the death of pure evil -- which happened to wear the face of Bin Laden.

I could be wrong but how do I know what's in anybody else's heart?

I admit I'm judging a little bit today because of the one-Bible-verse postings (mostly on Facebook)  about how we should treat our enemies, fallen and otherwise. I've seen for myself how easy it is to pull one verse out of the Bible and run with it. But the main thing is, I think some people may be using these verses as a condemnation of others.

But condemnation has another name:

 

Judgment

 

Easy to recognize when others are doing it. Not always easy to see in the mirror.

Mirror, mirror on the wall...

Guilty as charged. Sometimes it's just too hard to take a good, long look.

That's why I call myself a practicing Christian...not because I go to church regularly...but because I'm always trying, and often failing, to get it right...

 

It's my party...

There's nothing like going to a funeral to make me not want one.

Now, I don't mean I don't want to die -- I'm not ready to go yet but I'm comfortable with the idea, if that makes sense. Like most people, I think our fear comes from the dying process, not death itself. For a Christian, death is only the portal to another, better life. And, yeah, I believe that. I also believe I'll see people who have gone before me. And dogs. Lots of dogs. I imagine I'll be put to work in the heavenly kennels. You can imagine what I hope dogs don't do in heaven.

I accompanied my mother to a funeral this afternoon. It was for the son of one of her friends. He'd been found dead several days ago -- heart attack, they think. I was thinking, as I sat there, that it must be the worst thing in the world to lose a child -- no matter how old you or the child was -- and that it was something I absolutely could not -- and don't want -- to comprehend. I didn't know the man and had only met his mother a couple of times but she and my mother have been friends awhile (even though this friend's husband sort of "hits" on my mother -- take into account they are all in their 80s). I guess I shouldn't really mention that but, honestly, it cracks me up. It drives my mother up the wall -- and, yet, I think it sort of flatters her, too. But I digress...

I told Mark -- and the kids -- that I want to be cremated when I go. I also told the children to mix my and Mark's ashes together (eventually) -- along with all the dog's -- then put us all in one big urn together. You should see the faces my (all grown or nearly) children made. But, hey, I'm serious about this. But, as Mark says, are you really going to care at that point? Well, no. But I care now and I think it's important to honor someone's last wishes because they certainly aren't getting any more of them.

Going to a funeral makes me think of my own send-off. I know some folks have a pre-cremation viewing. No, thanks. Don't be looking at me like that, wearing something I'd never wear. Come to think of it, I don't really want a funeral, either -- I want a celebration -- of my life, not my death. I'm not saying there can't be some somber moments but, hey, talk about the good stuff -- and I hope there'll be some good stuff to say, though sometimes I wonder about myself in my worst year-round-bah-humbug moments.

And, here's another thing -- don't break your neck getting to my funeral/celebration if you didn't say "boo" to me while I was alive. I do realize that sometimes we go to funerals for the sake of the living, not for the deceased -- who we may not have even known -- but it seems that folks sometimes attach too much importance to the funeral, not to the life. Sorry -- I know this cute little emoticon doesn't quite work but it's as close as I could get on short notice.

So, when it's my time, I hope those left behind will do as I've requested: Put the fun in funeral.

And, if my wishes can't be followed, do expect some paranormal activity.

Lent me your ear...

I grew up in the Baptist church and, looking back, I don't remember really doing Lent -- but once I became a Methodist (which happened because my kids went to a Mother's Morning Out in a Methodist church around the corner and, eventually, we just said, what the hell, and became Methodists), Lent seemed to be a bigger deal. So, as I sit here with an ash cross on my forehead, I was thinking about what Lent really means. According to dictionary.com, it means:

(in the Christian religion) an annual season of fasting and penitence in preparation for Easter, beginning on Ash Wednesday and lasting 40 weekdays to Easter, observed by Roman Catholic, Anglican, and certain other churches.

Yeah, I guess that about covers it -- it's sort of the gloom and doom before the Resurrection. A time to confess our sins (how long you got?) -- and a time, for many, to give something up during these 40 days. However, I'm not so sure that giving up something is the way to go. What it's supposed to do is make you remember Christ's sacrifice every time you don't eat that piece of chocolate or drink that cup of coffee. I think, for some people, that really works but, if you're like me, it ends up becoming a contest with myself about whether I can or cannot do it -- and all I really end up thinking about is whether I will succeed or fail. And that's really not the point.

In thinking about what to give up, I realize that being unreasonable is, well, unreasonable. If I tried to give up, say, e-mail, I'd be in trouble -- because I use it every day -- that would be a huge sacrifice but one I would probably fail -- and sooner rather than later. So, it really doesn't make sense to give up something which I'd end up feeling guilty about once I lost the battle. And, somewhere in that battle, I'd forget to remember what it was all about in the first place. I know me -- and so does God.

So, when I choose what to discard, it's never anything which sets me up for immediate failure. I've given up white bread (excellent choice), sweets (even more excellent) and, this year, since I haven't had one since yesterday, I'm thinking about giving up carbonated drinks. I can probably do that. Maybe. It's worth a shot.

I hope God has a sense of humor -- I think He does.

I've seen a dachshund walk in the snow. And you know He's just gotta' be laughing at that.

Letting go...and letting God...

Today was the last Contemporary Service worship at our church. That particular service has been in existence for 11 years -- and we've attended it for ten (since we started going to this church). The cessation of this service isn't wholly unexpected -- unfortunately there are some folks who tend to think if you're not worshiping in the traditional way (where is that in the Bible exactly?) then you're not really worshiping. The impetus for finally canceling the service was the renovation of the Family Life Center where the contemporary worship has always been held -- we were first told it was simply a hibernation until the renovations were complete. But, today, the praise band, stripped down to acoustics, performed for the last time -- until they appear in some other incarnation in the other service. Not holding my breath. What? Drums in the sanctuary?!!!

The intention now is for the traditional service to become a more blended service -- with elements of both traditional and contemporary worship. We shall see. I believe -- and predict -- that the more traditional worshipers may well endeavor to squash the more contemporary aspects. I hope I'm wrong. I really hope I'm wrong. I will be the first one to call it a miracle if the service can successfully make this leap to something new and innovative.

But sometimes change is good and perhaps, this is exactly what our church needs in order to grow -- and, of course, it's not about me, anyway. Or shouldn't be. Change is hard and even good changes can be difficult -- and I'm as human as the next person. This service is going to be deeply missed and will leave a very large gap in my spiritual life.

But God is good, all the time. All the time, God is good.

And I never know what He has in store next.

Sort of scary, sometimes.

This too shall pass...

Well, here we are, a new year! It's hard to believe it's 2009 when it seems like only yesterday we were worrying about whether computers were going to crash when it turned 2000.

This will be a big year for me -- well, in the birthday department, anyway. This is the year I'll turn 50 (8 months to go!) -- talk about hard to believe! In my head, I still feel, oh, I don't know, 25 or 30 -- but my body begs to differ. At any rate, when I turned 40, it actually felt freeing. We'll see what 50 does to me. Condolences and/or congratulations will be accepted here.

As anyone who has kept up with this blog knows, the end of 2008 was not a good one and we are still reeling from our loss. But, this too shall pass -- and, eventually, we'll be able to look back and smile about the dog we had for much too short a time. And, of course, the new puppy is already making us laugh like fools. I've always maintained that God knows what we need when we need it -- although we have to listen and accept His bounty -- and, even though, I wondered if getting Liesl so soon was the right thing, I think she was sent to us by divine intervention. As I write this, I don't know what part of the house she is wrecking havoc in -- considering that she goes non-stop all day, it's about time for her to crash.

Last night, we shot off a few fireworks. We have to travel across the Savannah River to Wacky Wayne's to buy them -- at least the kind we want. Certain fireworks -- the good ones -- are illegal in Georgia. Anyway, we didn't buy as many as usual but we sort of expected that some of the neighbors would have bought a few, too -- we usually have a small gathering and watch the "show" from the bottom of our driveway. Anyway, I don't know if it's because all the kids are growing up around here (there are a few who are much younger) and they are no longer interested in this tame display (only one adult neighbor actually joined us) but my youngest two (16 & 21) had a blast (literally) so that's what counts. But, maybe, we've reached the end of the road for the neighborhood New Year and 4th of July fireworks fun. Of course, both of my youngest two always did like to play with fire so, as long as they are into it, I guess we'll continue -- even if it's just us. It sort of feels like one of those passing of the torch moments, though.

Well, one of the things a new year brings is hope -- and, Lord, don't we need it. So many changes for our country, for us personally and probably for you as well. I pray this new year will come with many blessings for us all.

Oh, the weather outside is frightful...

Now that the presents are unwrapped and the breakfast eaten -- and while everyone is either getting dressed or taking a shower -- I thought I'd come wish everyone a very merry Christmas. I hope that, wherever you are and whoever you're with, that you are having a blessed day.

I fear that the true meaning of Christmas gets lost amongst the discarded wrapping paper and, even though we still spent too much this year, we actually pared our list down a bit. I wish I could get my kids to donate to a worthy cause rather than give me gifts -- I wish my hubby would do that, as well. I'm really at the stage where there isn't much I want or need -- other than books (which is mostly what I got this year -- including a hardcover of Elizabeth's Chadwick's, THE GREATEST KNIGHT -- yeah!). That one will be next on my reading list after Sandra Worth's, THE KING'S DAUGHTER).

Anyway, we have the newlyweds with us, celebrating their first Christmas as a married couple. I'm still trying to get it around my brain that I'm mother-in-law! Last night, at the Christmas Eve service at our church, the minister pulled Shannon and Greg from the congregation and had them open the "gift" of baby Jesus, who they then placed in the manger. Shannon was wearing huge heels (and she's 5'10" in her bare feet) -- I'm sure, had she known she'd be climbing the steps where she stood six months ago saying "I will", she wouldn't have worn them!

My son, Wesley, is here. And, of course, Carrie, still hurting from the loss of Butler. If dogs can "wish", I'm sure he would have wished that we carry on. I wrapped up their gifts (dog treats) and they all had fun opening -- and eating -- them. Liesl, her first Christmas with us -- well, ever -- was right in the thick of it.

Thank you to all who visit this blog and/or my forum. I appreciate your steadfastness as I continue to write and work on being published. I don't think I have the fire in me to really push for publishing -- but maybe, eventually, I'll try harder. But I thank all of you who have read and commented on my work -- it's all of you who make me feel that I have, at least, a wee bit of talent.

As I'm writing this, I am perspiring -- I just turned on the AC -- it's only 65 degrees outside but it's very warm for Christmas. And that, for me, is just frightful. Sometimes I think I'm going to have to move to a cooler clime or I will melt away.

I wish you Christmas joy and family fun -- and I hope you received everything you wished for (and maybe something wonderful that you didn't!)

Merry Christmas!

God's Promise

Still reeling from Butler's death, I forced myself to go Christmas shopping. We'd put up a tree but had not decorated it -- and I just didn't have the heart to do things "like we always do" since "like we always do" was not going to be the same, no matter what. So, I went to Michael's and bought several nature-themed garlands and some bright red cardinals to clip onto the tree. Coming out of the store, though, a fresh wave of misery hit me. The Christmas music being played and mixing and mingling with cheerful holiday shoppers just wasn't what I wanted or needed. Throwing my purchases into the back of the car, the tears begin to flow again.

The weather was horrible that day -- my kind of weather actually -- rainy, wind gusting, chilly. Still, the clouds were ominous and I was glad to be heading home. Then, I happened to look up, gazing at the heavens through my tears. Overhead, with no discernible sunshine -- and framed against dark clouds -- was the biggest and most perfect rainbow I'd ever seen. I thought I was seeing things -- I looked away, then back -- but, no, it was no illusion. I looked around me at other shoppers but nobody else seemed to notice, too intent on their business.

I'd always heard of the "rainbow bridge" -- the bridge which, it is said, beloved pets cross to get to the "other side". Now, I know this is something someone made up (the bridge, not the other side) but to have this happen, when it made no sense made me tremble. Was that where my beloved Butler was -- crossing the bridge, where he would wait for us? At once, the rainbow was life-affirming and terrible, a reminder of what I'd lost.

I knew the Biblical story of the rainbow -- that God had placed it in the sky as a promise to Noah -- that he would not destroy the entire earth again by flood. God's promise. Was this my personal promise -- that God would see me through? And, had anybody else even seen the rainbow?

I cried all the way home.

We had already discussed getting another dog -- had actually, before we knew Butler was sick -- talked about how we needed a younger dog in the house because having them bunched so close together in age made for the likelihood of too much sorrow coming down too close together. We said, when we lost one of the dogs, we would get a puppy or, at least, a much younger dog. We never expected it would be Butler who went first or so soon.

Dealing with this loss at Christmas was difficult and we decided that getting another dog during the holiday season -- or so soon -- was probably not a good idea. However, I knew, from past experience, that what is meant to happen will happen -- I decided, other than looking on Petfinder.com (which has always been one of my pastimes), I was not going to actively seek another dog. However, if one fell into my lap, that was another story.

Then I saw her face, staring at me from the computer screen. Part Boston Terrier, part Pug (maybe a little something else), she was not what most people would call a beauty. But I've always been one who liked things a little skewed, a little off-kilter. They called her "Bella" at the rescue shelter -- she was six months old and needed a home. And, I had one to offer. I sent in the application on a whim -- fully expecting them to say that, because we had one dog, though elderly, who was not neutered, we couldn't have her. But my application passed. The only problem was that Bella had the papilloma virus -- which causes warts -- but is also something that usually goes away on its own. Because it's viral and, therefore, contagious, they didn't want to adopt her into a house that already had other dogs. But, it happened I had an appointment with the vet and I asked about it -- my vet said it would be fine, no big deal. I told the rescue group what my vet had said. I didn't expect much but then, in a turnaround, they said yes.

Bella was not a local dog. She was in Roswell, right outside of Atlanta. It would have been ridiculous, no matter how cute she was, to travel to Atlanta to get a dog when there are plenty who need rescuing right here. But, meant-to-be was in full swing. We were heading to Atlanta, anyway, for a wedding. So, all we had to do was swing by and pick her up. And, because it was a family wedding (Mark's brother who is as big a dog lover as we are), we had a place for her to stay while we attended the wedding.

She cannot and will not take Butler's place. He was the one and only, as unique as every dog I've ever had. But we have the means and the love to give a homeless dog a forever home.

We went over names for several days. My requirement for naming pets is that they be named after a fictional character -- or someone real (as Butler was) -- there will never be a Prince or Buddy or Max in this house. I tried to think of something "Christmas-y" but nothing really worked. Many years ago, I had thought about naming Spencer, "Marly" -- as a combination of my and Mark's name. It was a Christmas name in a way -- as in Jacob Marley in Dicken's A Christmas Carol. But, I knew with the book and movie, Marley and Me, that there would be a plethora of dogs named that -- so I had to pass. I rejected every other holiday name I could think of. I then went to my Republican sensibilities -- thought about Palin, Condi, Cheney, Saxby (Georgia senator) -- but Carrie would have none of it. Though, my word is final, I wanted to give her a say in the matter.

We were driving somewhere when she said, how about Liesl? My immediate thought was, how did she know? The Sound of Music is one of my all-time favorite movies -- one of those I can watch repeatedly and not get tired of it. It reminds me of when I was very young and thought Julie Andrews was the best thing since sliced bread. Liesl was the name of the oldest daughter of the Von Trapp family. And then there was Carrie herself -- sixteen going on seventeen. I could hear all the puzzle pieces locking into place.

I tried the name out, said it, yelled it. Then I looked it up to see what the meaning was. Liesl is a diminutive of Elizabeth.

And it means God's Promise

Meet Liesl.

Here on Earth

Tomorrow is Thanksgiving in the US -- a day that most people spend with family or friends -- and stuffing themselves with turkey or other various edibles. It is pretty much a secular holiday these days though that's not the way it began. In case you were wondering, it was Abraham Lincoln who made the holiday official -- it's always the 4th Thursday in November. Like many folks, we will be traveling tomorrow to spend Thanksgiving with extended family. While there are times I'd like to stay home, I'm thankful not to have to cook!

While I'm speaking of giving thanks, I'd really like to thank all of my loyal readers. This blog doesn't have a lot of traffic but my forum -- which has been in existence for several years -- has much more. I'm so appreciative of all the people who have supported me in my writing endeavors -- who have read my novels and given me feedback, who've told me something made them laugh -- or cry. While the road to publishing is hard (and I haven't tread upon it the way I should), the encouragement I've been given will stay with me always and you will always have a special place in my heart -- even if I can't call you all by name.

Other things I'm thankful for-- my family, friends, relative health, dogs, computer, TiVo, freedom and faith. No matter what, God has it under control, even when it seems like chaos here on earth.

So, wherever you are -- either in the US or elsewhere -- make sure that you tell someone today why you are thankful for them!! Trust me, it will make their day!

Happy Thanksgiving!

In God's Capable Hands

I've pretty much had my fill of politics. I don't think -- unless something comes out that's really BIG -- that there's really anything new to be said. Most people have already made up their minds -- or had their minds made up for them.

Here are a few last things that concern me (not that I'm promising never to write about politics again):

*People who have just now registered to vote but have no real idea about issues.

*People who think that voting for a certain person will mean that they will "get" something. Entitlement, anyone?

*People still slinging mud about the way people -- especially women -- talk, dress or look. My Lord, haven't we made any progress with this? If you don't like someone's politics, then don't vote for them but leave gender out of it. I would hate for someone to decide what I'm worth because of how I look. My brain has nothing to do with my dress size, hairdo or choice of clothing.

*Folks name-calling because of the way someone votes. Please stop. I'm not stupid, deluded or uneducated. I've thought carefully about what platform I believe in. No, I don't agree with everything -- but I have to go with what appeals to me the most (see topic "Why I am a Republican")

*The notion that the wealthy should support the less wealthy. Newsflash -- they already do.

*I still scratch my head over the total lack of humor. Lighten up, people! Yes, there are horrible things going on in this country and all over the world -- and they always have and will. Not laughing is not going to make things any better.

No matter what, it's not the end of the world and, as far as I'm concerned, it's in God's capable hands now. He knows what's best -- even though sometimes that involves a good butt-kicking.

Whether it's my butt or yours remains to be seen.

Missing: Sense of Humor

Here's the main thing I will hate about the weeks leading up to the election:

People either lose their sense of humor or they try to be funny by using what they think is biting, sarcastic, intelligent wit. I'm not much interested in it, either way. I'm also not interested in all the mega-bashing which now will begin. Both sides will be guilty and both sides will often be wrong. There's much not to like in this election but I'm always careful not to refer to the candidates or to their supporters as "idiots" or "morons" or any of a number of epithets which people use while they are trying to be the above-mentioned witty. If you have to resort to name-calling, guess what -- you're not witty.

I'll just be glad when it's over. Either way, some of us will be happy, some won't. But the way I look at it, it's in God's hand, no matter what.