Lack of Communiqué

Communication makes the world go round. When tension exists, friends, couples, co-workers, employees, families, all benefit from calm communication and forgiveness. Few things fuel annoyances and conflict like lack of communiqué. That absent email, text, or call that hinders people, and couples, from being on the same page.

In, "Magic Words," Author Tim David presents and discusses the most persuasive words in the human language. His studies conclude that the top persuasive word is not "please" (as I and talk show hosts expected). The top word initially took us aback. But now, I'm a believer. The following real-life mini-drama might help warm and persuade you to David's top persuasive word...

Rachel returns from a lengthy Saturday workout. It is a misty, foggy morning, and nothing burns extra calories better than a brisk lake walk. Friday evening's Christmas dinner was the guilt instigator. Eating a slice of pleasurable apple pie after a variety of hearty foods was well worth it, but eating those calories away with power walking is even better. "Where have you been?" asks her husband.

"I spur-of-the-moment decided to exercise. Those extra 6 holiday pounds are easy to gain."

"But, why didn't you tell me?"

"You were chilling and had a busy week, and I didn't know you would care. I figured that since it is a gloomy morning, you wouldn't want to go."

"Well, you figured wrong. We always exercise together on Saturdays."

"Yes, but rarely first thing on gloomy Saturdays," responds Rachel.

"You should have told me. You know we both need the exercise. I can't believe you didn't tell me."

The events are all scattered and feel like a dream. And they should be but somewhat aren't. Rachel's real excuse is missing, as we peer into happenings of the day before.

Out-of-the-loop housewife Rachel is somewhat isolated, with few-and-far-between adventures. Visits to Braum's, Wendy's, Qdoba, and Panda Express are social events for her (pathetic, I know). She looks forward to a special meal out. Especially her husband's annual company Christmas dinner.

The afternoon of this year's dinner, Rachel was deprived of an important-to-her communiqué. A text. She was not apprised that one traditional and festive meal component would no longer be. Each year, for the past 20, she and her husband have eagerly looked forward to the taste-bud tickling appetizer, jumbo shrimp. I'm talking about shrimp with crunchy, firm, crisp texture when one first bites into the shellfish. The texture is similar to biting into the perfect grapefruit or pomelo. If it were pasta, it would be al dente.

In recent years they've even speculated together, "Will there be shrimp tonight?" Yet, she was clueless to the forever-more absence of the treat... until moments before the group meal. And worse yet, he knew hours earlier.

Cutbacks are inevitable, but her husband's failure to send a communiqué hits a vulnerable nerve. This lapse by her husband conveys two undesirable messages: "Your sentimental memories are flawed" and worse yet "At work, you're dead to me."

She will attempt to suck-it-up and get over his callous: "Don't take it personally. I didn't know you'd care."

Don't take it personally? Really? What does that even mean? It fans the flames. The closest someone in Rachel's life is unable to understand an albeit shrimpy yet sentimental and selfish hovel of her soul? No way! She looked forward to the scrumptious delicacy and believed the feeling was mutual.

Louisiana creepy "Crawl-dads"

The appetizer news is not the offense... No, if that were so, quiet would Rachel be. Sending a lunch-time, two-word text takes only mere seconds. She and her husband would be on the same page, in sync, apart yet together, shed a shrimpy tear, and move on, together.

Rachel feels frustrated, and creepy too. She's upset and experiences guilt for letting a seemingly selfish and insignificant shellfish rattle her condition. She needs a means of communiqué. She will walk off the pain, alone and with intensity, and compose an emotions-leveling word picture.

Walking is her fervent outlet, and blogging is her diplomatic venue. Parables encourage the fine art of fostering good relationships, graciously communicating her "because" in a less confrontational way. Intangible becomes tangible. It lessens Rachel's inner turmoil, discerning her genuine, concrete "because" (logical or illogical; right or wrong), and it fosters key insight from her husband. To learn his "because."

Snap, crackle, pop. Like pulling a stubborn tooth.... Finally... Rachel discerns the real BECAUSE... (Tim David's top persuasive word). Her husband's disclosure? ... BECAUSE... of extreme morning malaise, almost sickness. In a mental fog most of the workday, on no-text Christmas Dinner Day.

A somewhat feeble excuse, but genuine and vulnerable. Rachel is finally persuaded to move on. It is a much more sensible and acceptable justification than, "I. didn't. know. you'd. care."

On a pivoting and pivotal note, Tim David's studies reveal what God has known all along. God could never be accused of lack of communiqué nor sharing the BECAUSE of Jesus. Prior to His birth, God sent texts. He messaged. Through numerous prophets. He communicated to warn, to prepare, to confirm, to anticipate the spectacular event as well as to share the Jesus-shift, the seismic change in tradition, and the "BECAUSE":

For unto us a child is born, unto us a son is given: and the government shall be upon his shoulder: and his name shall be called Wonderful, Counsellor, The mighty God, The everlasting Father, The Prince of Peace (Isaiah 9:6)

Wonderful...Prince of Peace, the "BECAUSE," these "Magic Words" in Isaiah, were prophesied and written hundreds of years prior to Jesus' birth. They are God's earnest attempts to prepare and persuade humankind to accept his Son, to embrace the eternal purpose for His life. Our hungry souls crave Creator God. Jesus is the only bridge to God.

Authentic BECAUSE: Magic. Persuasive. For refreshment, click:  ♫Something in the Water♫ Carrie Underwood

Never Will I Leave You...................... 59 & Holding or Holing

Never will I leave you; never will I forsake you (Hebrews 13:5)... presented in dream-format.

A group of people are at a friend's home for a social gathering. The host holds a metal dog crate that carries a very small woman, the size of a medium-size dog. It is their great-grandmother who remains nameless. No one seems astonished. At first Rachel is afraid of the elderly woman (is she crazy?) and also concerned for her treatment.

They explain that great-grandma has always been the sweetest person and still is. She has gentle eyes, very few wrinkles, and always smiles. Yet, she is senile and seems mute. Everyone is endearing to her as they converse, “Yes, her other daughter moved to… a few years ago.”

She has no forced trappings and leaves her cage. She plays with a child in the room (presumably her great-grandchild). They crawl on the floor and interact like children do. After 15 or so minutes, their playtime and the side show is over.

The woman heads to a small, dark hole and disappears. The others exit to the kitchen or wherever, but inquisitive and concerned Rachel lags behind to peer into the hole. She curiously asks the hosts: “Did you know there are two sets of eyes in the hole?”

Her seat on the couch is taken, by the child who now plays with Barbies. The crude clothes are ripped burlap-like material wrapped around the dolls. Rachel kind of likes that idea. Her sisters created similar fashionable Barbie clothes as children, free of store-bought trappings.

Because her seat is now occupied, she sits away from her husband, behind the conversation area on a large floor pillow. She ponders. Maybe Rachel wonders if she will ultimately be the elderly woman, endearingly housed yet "aged & holing," separate, smiling, and mute. She in no way embraces the idea, yet surprisingly is not worried. Great-grandmother was content, not alone (two sets of eyes were in the hole), and observers seemed respectfully considerate. It feels like a scattered, crazy dream (and actually is).

It is a weird dream, but not a nightmare, as she was more the observant rather than fretful viewer. Down-the-road helplessness is currently a moot or unsettled point for Rachel. But yet, no matter, unbelievable as some dreams seem, there are odd, hole-like situations in the Bible:

• A fiery furnace (Daniel 3); 
• Daniel's frightening lion's den (Daniel 6); 
• Joseph's empty (Gen. 37) and Jeremiah's muddy cisterns (Jer. 38); 
• Jonah's stinky and germy whale gut (Jonah 2); 
• Lazarus' noxious tomb (John 11); 
• Paul's cramped rescue basket (Acts 9); and, 
• Jesus' tomb (Matt. 28)

One crazy variety or another, there are circumstances with temporary, humble, vulnerable, unpredictable holings... and transformed outcomes.

Keep your lives free from the love of money and be content with what you have, 

because God has said, “Never will I leave you; never will I forsake you" (Hebrews 13:5).

                                  

For Where Your Treasure Is

     The following parable is an attempt to color the concept of heart treasures:

     Middle-school students as well as adults are taking a standardized exam, all in one room. Rachel arrives. She's middle-aged, uptight, and doesn't recall studying for this test. One student takes and re-takes the test, and keeps failing. Others happily depart the room with a passing grade. She stands and awaits her turn, as the test-taking tables are all full.

     One younger student impatiently snatches a copy of the test out of turn, but Rachel ignores the rudeness. Tension breeds petulant and uptight disorder. A valuable test copy is finally handed to her. Encumbered, she shuffles to a seat wondering if her fate will be like the other soul in the room, who keeps taking and re-taking the test, shriveling up like a prune from failure.

     With countless other items in her arms, including magazines and books, she resembles a poor bag woman or hoarder (her Father's obsessive gene has re-surfaced to the next generation). For long road trips, he always traveled with just-in-case overstuffed briefcases that included everything but "the kitchen sink." Juggling and situating herself is a comedy of errors.

     Overwhelmed with references, she manages to misplace the test before ever beginning to take it. The instructors are here, there, and everywhere and never able to aim their attention her way. Rachel is basically invisible to everyone except for one kind-hearted soul. She quietly hands Rachel a special bracelet. The bracelet holds test clues. Alas, the kindness is appreciated, but seems of little value. How, specifically, can the bracelet be useful? And where is her copy of the test?

     Invisible, scattered, clueless, she is discouraged but doesn't lose hope. Needing to take the test, but yet, unable to do so is a precarious quandary. She leaves the room in search of hidden treasure. Good thing because in the hallways are rumors about the secret of the bracelet. Holidays and special dates. As Rachel heads back to the testing room, others are being given bracelets. It appears that people are cheating.

     Instructors overhear that answer bracelets are being distributed, but there is no backlash. Rachel determinedly clutches hers like gold to not lose that item, too. She still, however, lacks the measurement instrument... the one thing everyone else in the room has... the exam. It's like having baby clothes and a nursery, but no pregnancy; furniture and a mortgage payment, but no house in which to live; work clothes, schooling and skills, but no career. A critical piece is missing.

     Deficient verbal skills and invisibility might on one hand create positive, super-powered anonymity, but they are currently holding Rachel hostage. The only way to receive instructor help for another copy of the test is to attract attention, like fainting or bedazzling, but that is not her style. She's too shy for inordinate attention; more the shell-hiding, stationary tortoise-type than rabbit (although she can be stuttering Roger Rabbit); more the Dramamine allergy queen than drama queen. A roomful of gawking eyes directed toward Ms. Invisible is not gonna happen. Period and exclamation point.

     Years ago, unrealistic, perfection ideals stealthily faded like clouds in the sky. Many chemo drips, gray hairs, wrinkles, as well as a muffin top erased those high ideals. She felt vulnerable. But, today, discouragement and depression will not re-surface to distract her from facing the challenge. Overcoming outweighs the alternative. She is determined to bypass the helpless victim mindset. One positive way or another, somehow, she will face the exam.

     One last time she desperately searches through her barrage of treasures. Dig, dig, through papers and dig past a literal "kitchen sink." There is a glimmer of hope, slipped inside of a cherished book. In that most curious place, she finally finds the lost test. Like a marathon runner pushing past the wall, she will make it to the finish line. The entire experience feels like a scattered, surreal dream (and actually is).

But we have this treasure in jars of clay...
We are hard-pressed on every side, but not crushed;
perplexed, but not in despair;
persecuted, but not abandoned;
struck down, but not destroyed (2 Cor. 4:8)
I can do all Paul things

     Most obsessive souls, at one time or another, have had the dreaded test dream. We're fearful of failing, or we forget a critical item. In a nutshell, test dreams are a reflection of an individual's lack of confidence and inability to advance to the next stage in life. Maybe the imagined closure in the next paragraph will bring purpose to my random, scrambled 30 minutes of REM sleep... 

     Rachel finally catches the eye of every instructor (did they ignore previous pleas intentionally, as a perseverance pre-test?) They all nod approval to begin. Gratefully, the level of her crisis was far from feeling "struck down" (2 Cor. 4:8), and the experience inspires and deepens her faith. She fervently composes the answer to a burning question that dovetails with heart treasures:

Name one eternal thing for which you are thankful and why.

I Can Do ALL Paul Things….

     But we all, with open face beholding as in a glass the glory of the Lord, are changed into the same image from glory to glory even as by the Spirit of the Lord (2 Corinthians 3:18).

     Saul of Tarsus (a/k/a Paul), a devout Jewish Pharisee, needed a makeover of the heart that could only be performed by his Maker. He was an avid, vehement Bible-time witch hunter. He witnessed and condoned figurative "burnings at the stake." He feared "The Way's" effervescent and contagious followers of the recently crucified, supposedly blasphemous Jesus Christ.

     To ardently display his devotion to God, Saul requested from leadership marching orders and received them. He doggedly pursued and persecuted Christians. Saul viewed terror in eyes and final breaths during his full-time crusade to persecute and "destroy the church" (Acts 8, The NIV Bible).

     Saul thought he was the enlightened one. Saul thought he was strategic and justified. Saul thought, and Saul thought. Yet, Saul was passionately wrong. Then, that's when, on the fateful Road to Damascus, he heard Jesus' voice. His physical eyes became temporarily blinded, but his spirit registered 20/20 vision: "Saul, Saul, why do you persecute Me?"

     Saul, renamed Paul, saw clearly and embraced a 180-degree turn-around. He experienced feelings of remorse because of his crusades. He felt like a father who accidentally traps his vulnerable child's finger in a car door, but Paul's intentional "accidents" were brutal times more hurtful to others. His writings elude to erased guilt: This is a faithful saying, and worthy of all acceptation, that Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners; of whom I [Paul] am chief (1 Timothy 1:15, a letter written by Paul to Timothy).

     Paul could have nursed his remorse and felt hopeless. Filled with anguished tears he could have ruminated with overwhelming sorrow: "I can never repay my wrongs. I am the scum of the earth. I hate myself. Christ-followers fear me and will never trust this wretch. I'm useless! There's no way to bring Stephen's and others' lives back. I basically persecuted Savior God. The pain is torturous, like a searing heat. It screams: 'Act out! Inflict pain on yourself (cut, disfigure) anything for relief!' "

     Instead, Paul balanced his remorse. During a hidden, indefinite sabbatical time, Paul sought for and received God's insight, mercy, and unconditional love. An indefinite, invisible, prolonged sabbatical is ideal for soul-searching and forgiveness. Driven Paul eventually refocused to positive things, like instructing Christians and writing encouraging love letters to churches.

     Over the centuries, Paul's letters have strengthened countless "unblinded ones." John Newton, composer of the song Amazing Grace, was undoubtedly inspired by Paul's writings. He regretted the many souls who cruelly died on his slave trade ships in his greedy pursuit of money. Like Paul, Newton's eyes were finally opened.

But we all, with open face beholding as in a glass the glory of the Lord,
are changed into the same image
from glory to glory [grace+Truth+time]
 even as by the Spirit of the Lord
(2 Corinthians 3:18, Paul's "been-there; done-&-doing-that" insight)

     Forgiving others is critical; forgiving oneself is, utmost, unnatural. To initially and clearly see through one's protective blinders or rose-colored denial glasses is impossible and potentially detrimental. I might turn on myself or others as a by-product of fear. IF (or when) I do clearly see, without the love of Jesus Christ, blinded hopelessness might be overwhelming.

     Fear- and hopelessness-prevention, to walk through change, to do "ALL Paul things," most and utmost, are the reasons I need Jesus' unconditional love and tender, healing mercies. I need His forgiveness as I jostle through this life because I, too, am a chief sinner in dire need of The Great Optician.

     I can do all [Paul] things through Jesus Christ who gives me strength (Philippians 4:13).

♫ All of Me ♫

Link to YouTube's: ♫ All of Me ♫

Fireflies Zap Boogeymen

The Sound of Music, Crazy-Cray

The Sound of Music's strengthening ♫My Favorite Things♫ is kindred to and approximates my rendition:  ♫Crazy-Cray Fears♫

♫ Icy slick pavement and germs in the bathroom
Tight crowded places and Sixth Sense red bedroom
Traffic jams winding, I tie up with tears
These are a few of my crazy-cray fears.

                         Bum, bum

                         Bum, bum

Interview failures, oh, crisp and stern feedback
Cell tones and texting and DUI racetrack
Car wash conveyor belt, fast it's soon near
These are a few of my crazy-cray fears.

                         Da, dum
                         Da, dum

Dangerous cancer and bluesy backlashes
Dentist drill zzzz's and dark boogeyman crashes
Silver white hair hails loud pooting, oh dear
These are a few of my crazy-cray fears...

When the palms sweat!
When the heart pounds!!
When my brain burps, blaa!!!
I firmly face one of my crazy-cray fears
Despite feeling quite... afraid. ♫

I can do all things through him who gives me strength (Phil. 4:13)

Port-a-Potty Synch? or Swim

Congestion Takes My Breath Away

Matthew 11:28

“Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest."

I Drool at Dental Visits

Matthew 11:28

“Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest."

MY 29 Cray-Cray Fears

Oh, meet my scary dentist

Homebody and not a thrill-seeker, maybe the root reason for most of the items below is the fear of fear and the feeling of fear. (#'s 29 & newly-added #30 occurred 10/13/2017 weekend.) This being spooky month, I experienced a revelational "Aha moment" after reading this crazy, paradigm-shifting quote:

You can face anything. JUST DO IT AFRAID:

1. Dental visits - Those pointed instruments, and drills hurt and can bring pain. What if I hiccup? Saliva, stop!
2. The Sixth Sense - Those spooky bedroom scenes are more than nail-biting.
3. Car washes & car repairmen - That narrow conveyor belt makes me nervous! The lacking "think-fast" muscle is needed for both of these.
4. Entering an empty house at night...alone - It echos.
5. Odd noises in the house...at night...alone - What... or WHO... is that?
6. Unusually strong winds...home alone - Recalling a 2006 tornado's very close call.
7. Cancer recurrence - No explanation needed. Faced one power-walk at a time. 
8. Hospitals & stern gynos - Germs at hospitals and one doc's stern feedback.
9. Stern feedback - Hyper-responsible isn't a bad word, but I do fail.
10. Forgetting appointments - Hyper-vigilant and over-responsible (there's that word again)
11. Job interviews & unemployment - I've failed a few and we've faced it a few times.
12. Noticeable public pooting - Too many close calls.
13. Old age - Public pooting. Nooooo.
14. Being naked - Won't let you see why.
15. Outhouses & airplane bathrooms - Germs.Very small.Dark.Getting stuck!
16. Roller coasters that go up & BACKWARDS - No, thank you!
17. Depression - Too much of that in the past.
18. Public speaking - No problem; no opportunities.
19. Jelly fish & sharks - Love the beach, but not those painful stingers and powerful jaws...
20. Ebola & other deadly diseases - Maybe this fear isn't neurotic.
21. Knives & guns - Strong kickback, weak arms; weapons are deadly in the wrong hands.
22. Icy streets & sidewalks - Slip-sliding and out of control. Uh, uh.
23. Traffic jams - Feeling trapped, solo-driving, and no escape... not good!
24. Being lost & alone in a big city - Been there, done that, twice. Once, with a train to catch.
25. Highway car breakdowns - Helplessness and stranger danger.
26. DUI & texting, teen drivers - Dangerous. Crazy-cray. Teen denial is predictably scary.
27. Deer ticks & spiders - Been there! Gross to unknowingly find critters that were onboard, overnight. Spiders, I shudder.
28. Unleashed pit bulls - Some fears are wise fears.
29. Fearless children on playgrounds & scooters - Unpredictable, and our grand girl just received 6 stitches, scooter-related.
30. Garage doors that mysteriously open overnight & a TV that turns itself on - Yep, both do happen.

You can face anything, JUST DO IT AFRAID! (Joyce Meyers)

     For God has not given us a spirit of fear, but of power, and of love, and of a sound mind

(2 Timothy 1:7).

A Tempting Tale, of S'more & More

The thief cometh not, but for to steal, and to kill, and to destroy:

I [Jesus] am come that they might have life,

and that they might have it more abundantly

(John 10:10, KJV)
Crossed with: Maleficent

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

The bounteous More:

A land of peace

An attitude of plenty

Vibrant sparkle, oozing with life

Trusting there is enough and always more.

Conversely... The destructive S'more

A land of gluttony

Dark, dirty, shadowy

Meaningless-ness creates mindless striving

An attitude of never enough, ever needing some more, S'more.

Greed creates conflict

Covetous of others' lives

The Garden's ever-envious Eve

Stealing. From. Another. For... S'more.

Reaching for wings that were never hers

Always desiring some more
Scarcity. Cravings. Thievery

Diametrically opposed to bounteous.

More

Restoration, fullness and order

Whimsical flight, fancy and border

Always enough

The abundant mindset of More.

Slimy mud, flung for amusing fun

Flying here and there, a ton

And shiny, valuable jewels sparkle

Admired, but always returned to their original source.

Satisfied and sassy, yet ambitious

Longing, yet eagerly willing

Soulful and sold out to

A higher Other.

Gluttonous. Instinctive. Short-sighted
Flee the dark and the cloaked

The evervative mindset
Scarce. Voracious. Scary. S'more.

Strive for, but also beware. For the balance is tricky
Somewhat and seemingly slothful

Abundant. Even oozing. Energetic. The overflow, More

His given name is actually: More than enough (2 Cor. 9:8).

DeRachel

Treading Water

One gasp for air and then another
And to be steadied, an unfounded grasp
Meager energy is available for little else
Breaths are carefully timed to precede the waves.

Tread, tread, tread
Breathe, breathe, breathe
And believe
For a random reprieve or rescue.

A glimmer of hope
A familiar voice
A lifesaver on which to embrace.

What creates breathlessness?
The reason is inconsequential
Physical means lessen
Survival becomes the goal.

Tread, tread, tread
One step in front of the other
One errand to run or meeting to attend, and then another
Vision is unclear.

Paths are crossed by faith
And turns beg to be taken
Bumps are inevitable.

The mind absorbs mainly critical information
Memory is fuzzy
A nap... or gingerly sleep... is vital for the wearied
A need that is often shaken.

Tread, tread, tread
Knocking waves

DeRachel

Powerful undercurrents

Endless whacks and punches.

A disturbed stomach

Partners with a rescuing Friend's presence

... Let it go.

Clobber unrest.

Dip in...
Soak into the moment
"Calgon, take me away!"

... 'Til fingertips wrinkle to resemble prunes
'Til skin squeaks
'Til the quieted soul quite quietly speaks.

'Til twizzled thoughts
Float together like puzzle pieces
Hear the snap, feel the fit, see the picture unfold
Sense the "aha."

'Til the world begins to make some sense
'Til cobwebs are swept away, or at least lessened
'Til a refreshed soul is ready to dance. to dress. and to address.

To valiantly tread. Treadled duress.

The Lord is my shepherd, I lack nothing. He makes me lie down in green pastures, he leads me beside quiet waters, he refreshes my soul (Psalm 23).

Pressing Rewind

An entertaining thought enters the mind

It rises from the recesses

Bubbling up like shaken soda

Spewing foamy, sticky liquid

Everywhere.

What if, by chance, a button to rewind

A do-over. For a second chance

To replay and change the events of time, adding a new spin.

To speak different words or maybe less

To ask better questions and appear confident

To sit on the other side of the couch

To face right rather than left.

The hopes, the dreams, the purpose, the plans

The enchantment and the allure

The grass appearing greener on the other side

Of pressing the button, rewind.

Or, perhaps, when rewound everything might turn out

Sticky rather than ... ?

Sticky and awkward rather than ... ?

And, maybe even sticky, awkward and seedless rather than ... ?

What if, by chance, a button to rewind

A do-over. For a second chance

To replay and change the events of time.

The clock's miserly hands refuse to reverse

This week will never submit to the last

Months are not fickle

Returning to August from September. Never.

The hopes, the dreams, the purpose, the plans

The enchantment and the allure

The grass appearing greener on the other side

Of pressing the button, rewind.

Please be kind. Do NOT rewind.

                                                               

DeRachel

Never mind if you fall far short of the thing you want to do. If no one else will say it to you, encourage yourself for the effort: "Not so bad." It will make the next time easier and better (Josephine Demott Robinson).

...but David encouraged himself in the Lord his God (I Samuel 30:6b).

9/11 & Post-Traumatic Stress

Towers, towers, towers

     The year is 2001. George W. Bush is President; reality TV is a little over a year old; I didn't yet own a cell phone; and, DVD players were just becoming affordable. September 11th occurs and the world is changed and feels intensely connected. It is a day that, after 13 years, is still seared into many minds.

     Many remember their helpless feelings while viewing television footage of two dragon-size airplanes decimating seemingly indestructible high-rise towers. It felt like a nightmare and looked like a Godzilla movie. A big, scary bully was knocking down a carefully crafted tower of building blocks.

     A bully, however, is so grade school. One bully image I recall: a boy named Besca, in the 6th grade. He was huge, at least twice the average 6th-grader size with a Herman Munster shaped head, small eyes, wet lips, and crooked teeth. His looks scared me. He lived in a set of apartments near our home and sat in the back of the classroom. At times I'd turn around at my desk and catch him with an Elmer's glue bottle tipped above his mouth, squeezing the thick liquid onto his tongue. Glue does have a pleasant smell, but drinking it? I wonder what happened to him. He was actually a harmless puppy dog.

     Terrorists are not puppy dogs and they are not bullies. They represent the essence of evil. And 9/11/2001 was real and so was its feeling of panic. The ensuing unstable weeks were, indeed, frightening times. Will terrorists attack again? Will we ever feel safe?

     Like the current ISIS threat, trepidation exists. World leaders are confused and uncertain. 9/11 feels like it occurred just yesterday. Families still grieve their losses. One moment their vibrant loved ones lived and breathed; the next moment, they were prematurely gone. Like a mortal car wreck. There were few deathbed farewells or neatly-tied closures. And the media won't let us forget.

     Pivoting to a personal level and addressing post-traumatic stress, how does one ever forget fright after smoldering in-home events, that occur on a regular basis? Feeling like the walls will cave in, with hazy cigarette smoke everywhere. With amplified sounds of pounding, and quarreling, and stair steps that go creak in the night. Feeling fear and paranoia and panic. And ammonia-like, putrid odors. And seeing literal and figurative naked humanity.

     And, because I was old enough to do so (aged 6) pulling covers over the head; lying in the fetal position, hiding to drown out the madness. The brain shifts gears, to heightened awareness… to survival mode. Because all is not well in the home during jumbled, eruptive, paranoia-fueled "crazy-cray" dark episodes. In the morning there is evidence. Empty bottles and cans of alcohol thrown into the kitchen trash. And the feelings seem thrown away as well. But more damaging than the events of the dark night is never talking about the episode. Like nothing happened, so it is never discussed. The mind tries to move on; but the senses (like the 9/11 media memorials) will never forget.

     A variety of scenarios. mimic the repeated events. that cultivate Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. and the effects seem quite similar. especially for. sensitive or un-soothed... toddlers and infants... in alcoholic "crazy-cray" homes. who years later. re-experience inexplicable fight-or-flight sensory responses.

The Jaws of Life extracted Dad in 1990; Mom died aged 62; I was just 35

     I write because I optimistically believe in a a Light that brilliantly outshines world disasters, mortal car crunches, and dark childhood nights. It is bright and effervescent. It is a Light that can bring closure and hope after a beloved one's sudden death in the 9/11/2001 disaster... and after my mom's sudden and mortal 9/11/1990 car wreck.

     I will not forget "crazy-cray" childhood nights, Mom's quiet, artsy, complicated, "naturing" essence, nor my heartache following her premature departure from this earth. She left before my earnest questions were asked or answered.

     I write in the Light, and He soothes my soul as well as troubled and echoing childhood trauma. He provides sensible and needed closure...the puzzle pieces finally somewhat smash together (but they will never quite create the fulfilling snap that I expect)... even after bonfires of blogging.

     But whoever lives by the truth comes into the light, so that it may be seen plainly that what he has done has been done through God (John 3:21).

     And, Let us consider how we may spur one another on toward love and good deeds. Let us not give up meeting together... but let us encourage one another--and all the more as you see the Day approaching (Hebrews 10:24-25).

Ice Bucket Challenges & Bucket Lists

     During August we've seen many an ALS Ice Bucket Challenge, with videos on Facebook and on national TV. There are ALS videos gone wrong and reality show host Julie Chen's brave, live, on-show, bone-chilling drenching of her perfectly coiffed locks and designer dress. She looked like a freshly bathed Collie or Sheep Dog with wet, mangled hair draping her face. With face and smile all but visible, her strong broadcasting voice professionally concluded the episode. People like Laura Bush wouldn't allow her coif and ice to meet; but she donated all-important cash.

     Muscle weakness is a hallmark initial sign in ALS, occurring in approximately 60% of patients. Early symptoms vary with each individual, but usually include tripping, dropping things, abnormal fatigue of the arms and/or legs, slurred speech, muscle cramps and twitches and/or uncontrollable periods of laughing or crying... Since ALS attacks only motor neurons, the sense of sight, touch, hearing, taste and smell are not affected. For many people, muscles of the eyes and bladder are generally not affected [ALS Association].

     Is that why the bucket challenge was initially chosen? Because, when deluged with ice-filled water, muscles freeze up? Yet, the five senses are astonishingly piqued? Does that somewhat portray the affect of ALS on a person? Or maybe it is embarrassment? Displaying wet, disheveled hair on national television is embarrassing, and maybe the effects of ALS are embarrassing, too?

     One bucket topic downshifts with a jolt (like accidentally manually downshifting into 1st gear) it's the way my mind processes. The topic is bucket lists (feel the sudden, topic head jerk?) Bucket lists include activities or accomplishments a person wants to do or achieve before he or she feels fulfilled. In an August 2014 Today Show interview, Actor Jennifer Aniston shared what I call her anti-bucket list. With slightly puddled eyes and a brief furrowed brow she revealed her vulnerability. Getting married and having children have never been items on her womanhood bucket list. She's birthed many things. And she doesn't understand why people who don't personally know her judge her for not having children yet. I won't judge you, Jen.

     With all sorts and varieties of bucket and anti-bucket list activities in the media, I might half-way check an additional item off of my sabbatical bucket list. A trip to Hawaii or Italy would be much more exciting, but instead it's just plain old: Looking prayerfully into the identity mirror, to walk away with hopefully a slight understanding of myself, so I can attempt to live out God's Word and begin to better understand others. It has taken time. The feeling sometimes mimics ice being poured over my head, because I'm stubborn and will never be the brightest crayon in the box. There are moments of:

"...is like someone who looks...in a mirror...and immediately forgets..."

     √  Bone chilling shock at what God's Word is revealing,
     √  Pride, facing uncomfortable, disheveling, yet worthwhile time investments, and
     √  Freedom,* with God's healing Hand, from paralyzing blindness (addictions and other unsightly beasts don't RUN in my family, they GALLOP, full-speed and untamed).

*James 1:23 New International Version (NIV)
23 Anyone who listens to the word but does not do what it says is like someone who looks at his face in a mirror 24 and, after looking at himself, goes away and immediately forgets what he looks like. 25 But whoever looks intently into the perfect law that gives freedom, and continues in it—not forgetting what they have heard, but doing it—they will be blessed in what they do.

How to Train Your Downed Dragon

     Like a thumbprint, a person's feelings of depression have an individual aspect like few others. For some, depression is a short-term experience following a sad event, like the death of a spouse; for others depression is on and off; another's is always present or hormonal. Some forms of depression have an intense component, following a creative flow or high. Lately, mine seems to follow the latter pattern with increased fervor after rounds of 2006 juggernaut chemo treatment. I am not a medical professional nor a mental health professional. I am an on-and-off depression battler.

     "Depression is an experience of depletion. You're worn down, hollowed out, devoid of enthusiasm or vitality. Your senses are dull, perhaps to the point of taking in very little around you" [emphasis mine] (Psychology Today).

Real-life bout with severe, snotty cold symptoms...resembling depression?

     During bouts of depression, my heart feels sad, isolated, and heavy. I cry. It lasts a day or sometimes two and reminds me of the lethargy I feel with a cold or with allergy's strong symptoms. Out of it. A step behind. Ears, nose, eyes, and the brain fill with what seems like dulling and never-ending crud. The next step can be a downward spiral to feelings of hopelessness.

     So, a few years ago I began to write my feelings down, first in a quiet, journaling format. I then began to blog, seasoned with parables, maybe to fight fire with fire. "Parables and stories are the language of the heart" (Rev. Kyle Idleman).

     The parables or stories I employ sometimes have a child-like flavor, for which I cannot help myself. Maybe I'm attempting to redeem an unproductive childhood and make the effects of being raised in a dark alcoholic home brighter. This blog follows the parable format, because I can find no other positive way to communicate the depths of depression I've experienced. Before reading on, a stiff cup of caffeinated beverage might be needed, for focused flight and to follow the mindset of PTSD [Post-traumatic Stress Disorder].

     I compare our five heightened senses to a dragon. Heightened senses are the positive aspect of my depression. The adrenalized productive beast has:

1. Piercing eyes (sight), 
2. A smokey essence (smell), 
3. Impenetrable, knotty, leathery skin (touch),
4. Intense fangs and teeth (taste),
5. Swooshing, whipping tail (sound).



Wish my dragon was this cute!

6. Two powerful aspects of the creature are its wings for flight and potential to shoot fire (the Sixth Sense).

     The ensuing downward spiral is the damaging beast that people either lock up, drag away, or defend themselves from with a shield. Dragons are the subject of folklore and fairy tales. Commoners run from dragons and brave princes slay them.

     Dragons are seldom heroes in movies, except in rare films like How to Train Your Dragon. This movie not only warms up to dragons, it portrays resourceful Teen Hiccup, a Viking leader's son, successfully discovering intriguing ways to connect with the scariest dragon on the planet... Night Fury.

     Because of Night Fury's disabled tail, he is downed (flightless) and vulnerable. He needs Hiccup's TLC (tender loving care) as well as the sustaining and healthful fish he brings. Hiccup resourcefully gives Night Fury (dubbed Toothless) renewed flight. They form an unlikely bond. They connect with each other like a boy with his beloved dog.

     In the small Village of Berk, "12 days north of Hopeless located on the Meridian of Misery," Hiccup's Viking family either subdues dragons, slays them, or locks them up to use for dragon-killing practice. Brave Vikings are maimed and even killed by dragons. They've never consorted with the deadly creatures. Fire-breathing dragons are scary, and the poaching villains repeatedly fly away with Berk's sheep and other livestock, taking them to a massive, rocky fortification.

     The Bible's New Testament (Luke 24:13-35) shares an event that occurs 3 days after Jesus' death on the cross. Two of His followers walk together on the Road to Emmaus, a 7-mile journey from Jerusalem. Cleopas and the other are discussing tragic events. They've lost their leader and hoped-for Savior. Three years of heightened, possibly entitlement beliefs to overthrow the cruel Roman government are dashed. They are "downcast," and it appears their senses are functioning poorly.

     Jesus' followers deal with their beasts of depression as Vikings deal with their dragons. The two followers appear to subdue their dragons with a walk to Emmaus; Disciple Peter chooses to lock up his dragon and drag on, to his former occupation fishing; Judas demonstrably kills his dragon.

     The Disciples (akin to behavior of the Vikings) believe it is unwise to fraternize with what they feel is a dangerous dragon. The two distracted and downcast followers keenly display dulled senses in eyesight and hearing. They don't recognize an important Person, right in front of their eyes... their reason for hope, Savior God.

     Jesus' brief return to earth is to vanquish hopelessness. He opens eyes, to look for the positive Sixth Sense... the Fire. Just as the Vikings eyes are opened to the positive power of the dragon and its fire.

     A 2013 blog shares beginning insights to my dragon. Admittedly, each person's "dragon" is different, just as there are numerous breeds of dogs and cats. In my blog I connect with my dragon and uncover that my real enemy is not depression. It is instead the negative spin on my senses, with a snotty malaise of misery, and a bastion of hopeless self-talk:

inferiority → ← entitlement
entitlement → ← inferiority
inferiority → ← entitlement

     What ways might I errantly subdue my dragon? I might attempt to distract myself in numerous ways, like the Disciples.

     My concluding question is: Why do I dare partner with my beast?

     My answer: To break a vicious, repetitive cycle of poaching. that steals a cornucopia of senses. robbing my colorful identity and morphing me into a stoic, flat Viking.

     Do I throw out the baby with the dirty bath water, or, do I nurture the baby and train it? Rather than anesthetizing myself with alcohol or taking a drag on whatever, what other options do I have? Some depression sufferers NEED prescription medications; however my depression is a complicated, spirited, toxin-related variety and seems somewhat TLC trainable, as I explain in the knotty, natty "G-nona" link below.

     "For God has not given us a spirit of fear, but of power, and of love, and of a sound mind"
(II Timothy 1:7).

     With Savior God's help (John 3:16), I attempt to, head-on, recognize (but not follow) what I call my second-self, located down a spiraling fortification.  Drag on and meet: "G-natty, G-nagging G-nona"

Why Blog & Paying It Forward

     Three pre-adolescent boys sit on their bikes in a huddle. They surmise the next path they will take, looking at their options. Ahead of them lies a sidewalk with a sharp, downward roller-coaster curve and a continuing steep downward grade. It looks scary. The boys wonder whether it's dangerous to ride. They might ride too fast and lose control. Maybe they should walk it.

     The bulldog-built lad wearing no helmet appears to be the leader of the pack. His adrenaline must be flowing. He bravely encourages his cohorts, "We can do it. I'll ride the curve first, then you follow!"

     The other two watch; one helmet-clad, the other not. Helmet-clad Hugo appears sheepish and cautious, the other a bit braver. Hugo has a speech impediment that might be accentuated with the rush of adrenaline. They are both tenuous, watching their leader attack the Grand Canyon. At a similar age I took a sharp turn on my bike, slid on gravel, flew over the bike handles, and still grace the war tattoo to prove it. So these boys aren't stupid.

The downward grade looks scary from the tire skid angle.

     The two followers see Fearless Freddy survive, and then they cautiously approach the curve to test it themselves. They hug the curve, maneuver the fast slope; hit the brakes; and the WOW-factor hits. They thrive unscathed and evaluate the length of each other's "cool" tire skids. "Your skid is the longest" exclaims excited Hugo, "Let's wide it again!"

     We witness the inception of three adrenalized dare devils developing the important bravery quotient.

     I identify with helmet-clad, speech-impaired Hugo. I'm cautious, yet sometimes naively brave when need be, following my Leader. Blogging takes diligent time and work. Putting ideas out there is risky. Writings lose control to the reader and invite judgment and criticism. Yet, I write because I stumble.through ideas.needing boundaries.and because:

• Books, songs, and movies are with us because of... writers.
• Psalms in the Bible are with us because of... writing worshippers.

I attempt to pay it forward, writing.
Encouraging myself.
Hoping to convey the essence of encouragement to others.

• Writing helps to find my way to God, remembering the good things and the ever-present God things.
• When something positive, intriguing, or even distressing happens, I write to somewhat make sense of it all.
• Stories are all around, just look, listen, and write.
• I believe in writing the way some people believe in fairy tales.

♫Somewhere over the rainbow;♫
They lived happily ever after;

Win the Belmont by 31 lengths.

• I surmise the scary and curved canyon;
• And follow my encouraging Leader (John 3:16).
• I write, striving to be Holy Spirit-clad;
• Evaluate the braking tire skids; 
• Prayerfully listen to any feedback.
• And then, I write again.

The bikers' roller coaster curve track. Tenuous?

Garage Sales & The Tempted Tongue

     A recent 2-family garage sale co-hosted by myself and Neighbor Sara could have left me looking like the fish in the photo. If not for the proper use of my tongue and aim of its rudder I, too, could have figuratively sunk. It appears that some normally well-meaning people, when faced with the sign "Garage Sale", turn into lunatics.

     Thursday, 7:30 a.m., on the premiere morning of our 8:00 a.m. sale, shoppers wait in the driveway lurches. They are prepared to pounce. As my neighbor "Bob" opens his garage door to take his daughter to daycare, a rude couple barges in. "Please wait outside" says Bob.

     "We just want to take a quick look."

     "No. Out. We open at 8:00 a.m."

     "We need to get to other garage sales, so we'll be just a minute."

     That is just one of the unsavory garage sale experiences we encounter. The main offense, however, occurs throughout our Garage Sale's Black Friday, Day Two, and is the real-life material on which Friends' Elaine and I Love Lucy's Lucille Ball birth and thrive.

     At 7:45 a.m. our catty-corner, always guarded neighbor opens his garage door to prepare for his Saturday monster moving sale (we didn't know he was moving). His shiny BMW-like inventory makes ours look like a rusty VW; and, his highly visible location makes him king of the corner. Every excited shopper believes they are arriving to our twice-posted Craigslist sale. In other words, Neighbor Rich richly benefits from our meticulous homework and plentiful signs. Our hoped-for customers spend all of their money at his sale (even though he isn't officially open yet).

     I attempt to "go to the mattresses" (The Godfather) waving, re-positioning signage, and performing back flips for customers to see us, but they're star-struck. We are like the little bookstore being overtaken by superstore Fox Books [You've Got Mail]. Shoppers spend all of their time and money at the ultimate sale, ignoring our now elusive little Shop Around the Corner.

     Alas, our well-advertised sale is invisible; Rich's unadvertised pre-sale is a Black Friday bonanza. Shoppers deliriously leave his garage with boatloads of bargains. Rather than fight a losing battle, at 10:30-ish, we crack: "Even though this morning he told me their garage sale starts tomorrow, it looks like he's selling, big time. Let's take turns and find some deals!"

     We finally surrender and close our meager sale, 3 hours early, at noon. Why not.

     What happens next throws me for a loop. Maybe I'm overly-sensitive, and maybe I have spurts of mania. Maybe I sometimes cry at the drop of a hat, double-post a sale just-in-case, put up seemingly 1,000 signs, hang yard streamers, play music at our sale, and even offer .50-cent and sometimes free cans of pop just for people's refreshment and enjoyment. But now enters Friends, I Love Lucy, and a surreal Twilight Zone episode, blended like a green smoothie and unexpectedly spewed everywhere.

     A mere 30 minutes later, at 12:30, Neighbor Rich also closes his garage, for the day! (We later learn because of heat.) Whaaaaaat????? We could have stayed open longer? It wasn't that hot. NOW we feel like chihuahuas tumbling in a clothes dryer.

     I soon need to leave for my husband's 2:00 tongue surgery appointment. A twist of fate? By this time a trifecta of tongue surgeries could be needed. Sara was planning to man our mid-afternoon sale, but that was nixed by Richie Rich.

     Even counting Friday's money is unduly cray-cray. Thursday's larger totals balanced perfectly, but our brains are mush. As we wearily count and recount, we muse about the Black Friday shoppers. Poor Sara, holding her teething 5-month-old, unknowingly picked up a shopper's item and was almost karate chopped, shunned, and verbally shamed. The ambidextrous grandmother somehow stuffed a child-sized pink rocking horse and child's kitchen into her pockets. Hmmmm. Maybe her tongue needed surgery, too.

     Lucy and Ethel... and Jerry and Elaine, are wearily sprawled out on living room furniture in their respective staged Cracker Jack-sized apartments. After an episode of co-maneuverings with crazy-cray, their hair looks as frazzled and frizzed as Kramer's. They're a bit delirious, and they (and we) ask: What on earth happened today???

    We intentionally grind the old VW gears, from temperamental forward to positive and resourceful reverse. We rehearse the good things, including de-cluttering our homes, earning extra spending money, and donating to good causes. Rather than end this episdoe with a poor taste in our mouths, we attack life rather than allowing life to attack us, with a free offer to Neighbor Rich: "Would you like our 6 deluxe garage sale signs? In case of rain, the plastic coating will be helpful."

     Just as the rudder directs a ship's course, the tongue sets the course of relationships (James 3:1-4). It can be used as a sword to bring death and bondage; or, it can bring life and freedom. When my tongue spreads abundance, everyone benefits, including myself (getting to know Sara and other neighbors better, managing to get a deal on a needed compact refrigerator, and even ending up with a blog).

     Two of my top five strengths were well exercised: 1) Harmony [i.e. middle-child-raised-in-an-alcoholic-home syndrome] and, 2) Empathy.*

Fishers of men, women & neighbors

     *Post note: Through random circumstances the week before our sale, a generous neighbor down the street freely gave us those 6, deluxe, plastic-coated garage sale signs on stakes (a $15 value) PLUS free price stickers ($4). AND, he suggested we have the sale on Thursday/Friday rather than Friday/Saturday. We advertised on Craigslist with no overhead costs, so why not Pay It Forward to Richie Rich, with deluxe free signage? 

     I am a devoted follower of Jesus Christ. I would do anything for Him, including positively participating in a once every 30 years experience; co-hosting a crazy garage sale with Neighbor Sara, initiated by her. And, how could we not Pay It Forward in another way? to forgive an overwhelmed, naive competitor. (Savior God has forgiven me of so much more, John 3:16).

Good Friday?

He is Risen!

Dishwasher Magic & Easter

The dishwasher was invented pre-20th Century and became a popular appliance in the 1950s. It is a housekeeping game-changer. Dishes merely need to be loaded, and modern electricity performs dish-cleaning magic. Today's eatingware sterilizer calms germ-phobic fears and helps the modern family to cope with busy schedules. It saves kitchen time and enslavement to dirty dishes.

A game-changer: The dishwasher

Sterilized clean is the dishwasher goal, so water spots and a slight film on glassware is adequate. However, going beyond clean, to sparkle, is rewarding. A rinse agent adds the beyond-clean sparkle-factor. Sparkling dishes speak radiance. Glassware extraordinaire is opening the cupboard door to drinkware luster. Display sparkle on the dining table, and let the sun's brilliance shine through.

Similar to the dishwasher (but on a Grand, eternal scale) the first Easter was more than a game-changer. It was a seismic, disruptive force. Jesus died on the cross and the earth literally quaked. Jesus arose. We no longer need to be enslaved to sin and crazy fears. His death on the cross can wash [and sterilize] us, "Whiter than snow." We need only ask (John 3:16).

And then, 40 days after Jesus' death on the cross came brilliant sparkle. The special Rinse Agent, God's Holy Spirit, goes beyond clean... to sparkle. The power of the Holy Spirit adds depth and purpose to lives. Outstanding. dimensional. Son-brilliant. radiance.  (Acts Chapter 2, The Bible, introduces the power of the Holy Spirit).

And now, back to kitchen basics. A special rinse agent for dishes is shared in the vintage blog link below, including many helpful dishwasher tips (like adding plain white vinegar to the rinse dispenser), to remove "dish dinge."

Cleanse me with hyssop, and I will be clean; wash me, and I will be whiter than snow (Psalm 51:7).

A helpful tips blog: Beyond Clean... & Sparkle University

One fish, two fish.
Red fish, blue fish.