How to find Peace in the

Have you found yourself frustrated when your commute doubles in the Fall?

Have you had to set the alarm an hour earlier in order to not be delayed?

Could it all be due to ‘getting stuck behind the bus’?

I would like to share my tips to keep peace behind that big yellow transport.

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When you find yourself in this type of situation, there are a number of solutions for making your life more bearable.

#1) You could imagine a conversation between students. – Think about what one child would say to the new occupant. Make up a conversation. Ok, so you don’t lip read, that’s fine, use your imagination and remember that you don’t have to memorize Algebra theorems any more.

#2) You could rehearse what you would say to the boss and the reaction you would receive. – Hey, you are alone in the car; give yourself a promotion if you want.

#3) You could turn this into a guessing challenge. – Guess the number of children getting on (or off). Guess the number of stops the bus will make, the number of kids named David, what grade a child is in . . . Keep track of the number when you reach your destination and try to beat your score.

This is the absolute best way to keep your cool in times like this;

#4) Use this time as prayer time. – Pray for the child/children boarding or disembarking. Pray for the child pointing back at you or making a face. Pray for your family, co-workers, news, or neighbors. In any time of stress, this is the best choice.

So the ‘Take Away’ of this How – To lesson is a reminder for everyone; Think of this obstruction as a blessing.   

Or, you may just discover an alternate route to work.

 

This is my first blogger button. I feel very Prestigious. Aren't you proud of me? I know my mentor Jeff Goins is.

It’s a beautiful day in the neighborhood….

A genius in child development.

 

My devotion to Mr. Rogers Neighborhood came at a time in my life when my mental age did not match my chronological age.  This, however, is not about me, but rather a sweater-zipping, shoe-tossing, trolley-driving host of a neighborhood children’s show; that many viewers found delightful. He also was the brunt of late night comedians at times, but Mr. Rogers found it funny and affectionate. The success of this show can be summed up in the characteristics of the man.

 

·        Fred Rogers identified with people and their curiosity. – From how things were made to how people related, Fred could always discover and share with a genuine spirit. Children would not feel put down for their questions, and dare I admit, neither did adults.

·        Fred Rogers saw the need for acceptance. – He was an ordained Presbyterian Minister who taught his audience to love themselves and others. People could not watch the show without going away feeling that he liked them ‘for just your being you’ and ‘just the way you are’.

·        Fred Rogers incorporated music into learning. – Who among my readers have not thought of “It’s a beautiful day in the neighborhood” song or the chimes that would introduce the trolley? Music has been studied and proven to be one of the best tools in learning anything. Fred Rogers took that tool and used it in his teachings every day. Children and adults would go through the day with tunes in their head. Would that help? Would it result in a more soothing way to approach some issue? Would those tunes come to mind at times we would nervously look around to make sure no-one heard us humming it?  

Mr. Rogers Neighborhood can be found on the internet with the premise to the show. We are in this world together to help each other. Each person can learn something from this man and the compassion he had for others, even if they are late night comedians.

Why Not

Why Not?

Once I was told that I indeed supported the goals of others without doubting their ability. I do find this statement to be accurate. Because, why not?

If someone were to say that they would like to walk a tightrope strung up between two of the tallest buildings, who am I to say they can’t.

Well, I want to write in a blog. I have many thoughts swirling around in my head, and I think that they are supposed to be written. Perhaps to help me, but more likely, my words are to help someone going through the same thing with the same thoughts as I.

 Let me explain:

 I feel like I have experienced so many things in my life that will be of value to someone. Deaths of those too young; joys of new beginnings; fears, love, absences, growth.

After having a TBI (traumatic brain injury) at 16, I was limited as to what I could say clearly. I stuttered and couldn’t find the words I wanted to use. I would often say that I could write it down for someone if I felt like they didn’t ‘get me’.

 There it was; the reason that I write all started with my inability to get my thoughts across to someone verbably.

In 1990, fourteen years after the accident, I started taking a drug to help a chemical imbalance in my brain, a direct effect of the TBI mixed with the hormones after the birth of my two children. I feel like this got me back on track, or made me believe I was anyway.

Write!

So now I was even more aware of the need to write, although the actual writing didn’t take place for real until 2001. It was after my grandmother died.  It was then, as a tribute to her, that I began to record my life growing up in my first booklet “A lifetime in July”.  I jotted down the things that had happened to me, co-incidentally in July.

I would visit my grandparent’s house for a week or two, each summer. It was July 1974 that our high school band traveled to Europe and while we were gone, my granddad had a heart attack. He had several in fact, but he lived until we returned, to say goodbye, I think. Granddad died a short while later. It was in July two years later, that I had the debilitating automobile accident.

I gave the booklet to my family members, as a Christmas present. The next year, I gave each one my account of my accident. They were asked to make any corrections or additions that were strong in their minds.

A few years later, as I had my story all put together, I had some friends edit it. One of my friends did counseling for me pro-bono. She was the one that suggested I share in church.

Wait – Me?

I am a writer, not a speaker. I couldn’t. I stutter some, can’t find the right words lots, and I limp when I walk. I can’t get up in front…..

 Maybe not, but the Holy Spirit can do the talking, giving me the words, and God can open hearts to acceptance.

Ok, why not?

No argument held water, so not only did I ask to speak, they had me give the message in the Pastor’s absence.  It was well received.

They also handed out copies of my story printed by the church. Wow.

Next?

Shortly after that, my story was on Kindle. Printed, published, and sold. Then the most amazing thing touched me deeply.

 A woman in my church told me she sent one of those printed copies the church handed out to a relative whose 16 year old son had been in an accident, much like mine. They were happy to read it. She said it helped.

Aha ~ My Call.

The story was removed from publication and put on the church web page. Anyone who needs to read it, may – for free.

Writing? Like talking in the Pastor’s absence, I will let the Holy Spirit do the scribing by giving me the words, and much needed confidence. I will let God open the reader’s heart to acceptance.

So I asked ~ why not?

Yes, I would find a way to tell my story, share what God gave me. I would start a blog. I had the motivation of Jeff Goins, a writer, and encourager, who I have followed for years and I trust him. I will keep writing and I will tell my story along with other stories, to bring glory to God.

Because I have been saved for a purpose.

 (And I don’t want to walk a tightrope between buildings)

Overcoming Injustices

Overcoming injustices

This is the story of a girl who hated stereotypes and labeling. The girl grew up in a loving family with a nice home. There was a swimming pool and a decorative garden, making it seem like a Spanish villa. It was located on a corner making its existence even more regal.

The father, with a PHD, was a top executive and often had guests from other countries coming to America in order to complete deals and develop pharmaceutical drugs that would be used in the company product line. The mother, a gourmet cook, would have parties to entertain the visitors. She would make exquisite foods and they would have meals that included guests from England, Spain, South Africa, Sydney, Australia, India, Japan, etc. Sometimes, more countries would be represented and sometimes less.

The girl’s house was one of the more prestigious homes in the community. The girl had a gift as a hostess for the parties. She would easily converse with the guest from Australia, talking about his sailboat excursions at the same time carry on a conversation with the man from India enjoying the family descriptions in a ‘broken English’ dialect. She was quite comfortable with the tall man from South Africa and laughed with the Asian woman.    

The problem arose when, at school, the girl was mortified to think that anyone would think she was more affluent than others. She would often downplay the dinner party so as to cover-up any idea of being well off.  The girl made an effort to include everyone. If someone would refer to her affluence, she would laugh it off. She hated to be thought of in that way so she made an effort not to talk about the parties or her father’s position.

Another problem she would have was that of stereotyping any person or group. She would not stand by and let the ideas of a few become an issue. If someone were to say something derogatory toward any culture, even as a joke, her blood boiled and she would point out the opposite to be true.

The girl’s siblings did not appear to be as offended by the negative things said. Everything came to an abrupt halt when this girl was in an automobile accident. She could no longer find the words to stick up for the accused cultures. She stuttered now, but knew how she felt; no-one listened to her influence any more.  The girl only observed things and couldn’t do anything about it.

The parties became fewer as her ability to communicate became less. Her parents took a big hit financially due to the girl’s hospital and doctor bills.

The girl still felt a loyalty toward any oppressed group or peoples. Life went on.

When it came time for the girl to graduate high school she did not have the bond that she once did with friends. Two of the foreign visitors from her dad’s work accompanied her to a few graduation parties/open houses for the people that had once been close.

A tall, thin, black man, Iggie Ignacia, from South Africa, and a shorter, white man, Gordon Baker, from Sydney, Australia laughed with her as they entered homes. These adult men were two of the people who would forever be remembered in helping the girl’s High School alone feelings at graduation. Two new friends, if just for a week will always be remembered.

One day, the girl, who was not a child any longer, discovered writing. Finally there was an outlet for her inner thoughts. Could she use it? Would this be a venue to address treatment of others in school? Even with her spelling errors, she wanted to say what she felt about the injustices in this world.

The way I would like this story to end, is still being written. The girl can choose to be self absorbed, listening to her fears and inabilities and endless mistakes. Or, with the help of God through her friends, she can continue to learn from her mistakes and keep trying.

Moving Mountains Kind of Faith

Moving mountains kind of Faith

Matthew 8:5-13

This bible reading talks of a Centurion (a Roman officer) coming to Jesus with a request. He wants his servant to be healed. It doesn’t say, but I wonder what motives inspired the man to come to Jesus. Could he have cared for his servant so much and for his well being, or could it have been an ulterior motive on his mind? Perhaps it was because this one made the best soup and couldn’t if  ill. Or maybe he had the best rapport with the other household servants and could get things done. Or maybe this Roman officer just happened to be in the area where Jesus was speaking and after hearing The Lord speak; he remembered back home and his sick servant.

In any case, the Centurion came to Jesus and told him about the servant. This is the point of the story, Jesus said he would come, yet the man proclaimed that ‘all He need do is say the word and it would be done as He says'.

The Roman officer cites that his own soldiers do as they are commanded and implies that Jesus had an even greater authority that could heal his servant.

After hearing his reply, Jesus pointed out to the ones following Him that the faith of this Centurion He had not seen in all of Israel. Jesus goes on to say those of this kind of faith will come to the Heavenly table with Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. The next thing He said confused me, at first, but after more research, I see that He is saying that those who merely act like they have faith will be kicked out. They will end up as with gnashing of teeth and weeping.

[As a sidebar note: I have always wondered why the weeping and gnashing of teeth does not encourage more compassion. I want to hug that person; make it all better. But take it as a warning. I have found that in the Bible, when they speak of this, it is to show the extreme despair that one is undergoing. At this point, there is no fixing it to make it all better]

Jesus then becomes the healer and confirmation of the Centurions faith. At that moment, the servant was healed.

That’s the kind of faith that I want to have. A faith that believes that Jesus can and will do what is required. He can move mountains, should He choose to.

A Bluebird of Happiness

A bluebird of happiness.

 It sits on the entertainment unit. It is translucent with the light and a solid color blue when it sits alone. It has no real defining cuts. The only resemblance to a bird is its slight likeness of a tail and a pointed beak. This symbol of the well known ‘blue bird of happiness’ was given to me by a former employer who herself, taught me the positive encouragement to become who I am today.

“Well good morning.” A welcome I learned to use in greeting customers as they came through the door. “Golly it’s good to see you.” “Well for heaven’s sake. Come in.” were greetings also shared. I learned from her as I tried to imitate her words.

Someone once said it was as if everyone I greeted was my best friend. That, is the attitude I developed working for Millie Gropp. She is the one that took the time to send me this symbol of the blue bird.

Millie has since died, but my memory of her will live on. This small glass bird, with an odd tail and indented pin holes for eyes, will forever be a blessing from Millie; my greeting others as if they were my dear friends, my finding the best in people, and my feeling of joy in the simple things in life. That is what this bird means to me. As I age, I pray that God will give me a friend to pass this bird on to; someone that I can share the happiness of life with and teach them to greet others with a smile.

   

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