be-musings

One day, the father of a very wealthy family took his son on a trip to the country with the express purpose of showing him how poor people live. They spent a couple of days and nights on the farm of what would be considered a very poor family. On their return from their trip, the father asked his son, "How was the trip?"
“It was great, Dad."
"Did you see how poor people live?" the father asked.
"Oh yeah," said the son.
"So, tell me, what did you learn from the trip?" asked the father.
The son answered: "I saw that we have one dog and they had four.
We have a pool that reaches to the middle of our garden and they have a creek that has no end.
We have imported lanterns in our garden and they have the stars at night.
Our patio reaches to the front yard and they have the whole horizon.
We have a small piece of land to live on and they have fields that go beyond our sight.
We have servants who serve us, but they serve others.
We buy our food, but they grow theirs.
We have walls around our property to protect us, they have friends to protect them."
The boy's father was speechless.
Then his son added, "Thanks, Dad, for showing me how poor we are."

A woman, married to a banker, complained about her husband not trusting her with simple things. For an example she talked about the bedtime routine they had. As he slipped into bed he would ask her if she locked the front door. She would reply yes, and he would slip back out of bed "just to be sure". He would go to the front door and feel the knob, checking things over once more before going to sleep for the night. This frustrated her, as it indicated to her that he didn't trust what she said. The counselor asked her what it was that she appreciated about her husband, and what attracted her to him years prior. She said it was his stability, dependability and provision. The counselor pointed out that those traits made him a good bank employee. Those qualities played out in a different way in his bedtime routine. It wasn't that he didn't trust her, but he was ensuring that he protected his family when he did that. He had to be the one to make sure everything was safe.
Many times what we are attracted to in our mate or friend becomes what we despise. The passionate person who is attracted to a calm person finds them boring and uninvolved after the years pass. They may long for someone more passionate, like themselves. The opposite can also hold true for the quiet person who finds themselves managing a relationship with an outgoing person whose public actions "embarrass" them. The communicator attracts a listener who seems not to take part in future conversations, much to the frustration of the initiator.
The things that we find as strengths in others can also be weaknesses, and vice versa. The person who "says the wrong thing" in groups can also be the most amazing motivational speaker. The analytical person flourishes when that gift is needed, but at times can drive others crazy with the endless angles from which a decision is contemplated before finalized. You can think of other examples yourself from your own life.
In my strengths I am weak. "In my weakness he is strong". I'm learning to see the strength in others' weaknesses.

Last night Matthew and I walked to the corner store in the dark. Matthew decided to be a "ninja" and was hiding behind every skinny tree, pole, fence along the two houses it took to get there. When he came out he made ninja movie noises.
Man, he's freaking me out.
Where does he get his flair for the dramatic? When I was his age I didn't do such things. Thank goodness I don't have comments or my family will embarrass me. Let's just say...when I was 9 I wanted to be a movie star.

Today Matthew and I rode our bikes and I let him “call the shots”. We ended up at the nearby school, where Matthew spotted some kids doing bike jumps over dirt moguls. You can guess – we ended up joining them. Well, we went down the hill several times, but not exactly over the jumps. We went between them. That was scary enough for both of us. A few times I slowly rode to the top of the jumps, but instead of careening down the other side and over the next one took the chicken way of down the side. I was trying (unsuccessfully) to calculate the best and least damaging way of maneuvering. Matthew as well. We didn’t let it bother us, but instead agreed that we would need to practice to get braver and better. What did I just commit to doing?
This reminds me of a person who said the road of life is filled of bumps, and we spend a fair bit of time maneuvering these obstacles. I think of these as speed bumps.
People handle these things in many ways. I can think of some who scream through the parking lot, recklessly heading to the speed bump, not paying attention to its proximity. Can you see them, hitting the raised area at full speed, with the force of the momentum catapulting the vehicle and setting it off course for a moment? You can probably think of someone like that right now. You know very well that the person squeals or laughs with delight as the thrill hits them. What a ride! There might be some damage, but all things are viewed as fixable or replaceable if there is.
Some people are the total opposite. They drive painfully slow, anticipating every bump too far ahead of time. They feel they are "responsible" people. They make sure every move is planed, and the level of every bump is known. They hide their fear in calculated moves. It prevents them from enjoying the road in between the obstacles.
You know, some people like the obstacles. It invigorates them. Yeah, life sucks sometimes, but the uncertainty keeps the blood tingling. For others the speed bumps become what the road consists of. Nothing else. And those bumps aren’t a good thing.
I probably don’t need to tell you which camp I am closest to. Lately all I see are huge mountains and no straight road. So this week I’m talking to myself about it. I’m asking myself to become more…no less…realistic. Because lately for me to be “realistic” is to notice how difficult something is. That leads to feeling like the people in the old anti-cigarette smoking commercials. You remember; the ones where the pretty people lit up and then shriveled? I don’t want that to be me. It’s going to take work, but it’s going to take Joy as well. I want to become more like those of you in the reckless camp. Not totally though. Just enough so that I get up enough speed to at least hear the struts flexing when I hit the speed bump. Or maybe squeal as I hit that first bike jump. It’s a dream that can become a reality.

I have attempted to write many posts this last month, and deleted a number of them. I had to examine if they fit my vision for this blog site. Did they fit my own etiquette rules? You probably already remember me querying in some of my blogs about these things. So, stuff doesn't get published and that's really okay. I talk to friends about that stuff, or write it privately for my own self.
There is another reason why some stuff doesn't get published, or some blogs are rewritten. Everything I write is done with the knowledge that some people will read with an exaggerative interpretation. Or they'll email/call their friends to speculate about what they think is meant. So, sometimes I water down or delete. My motivation is in part to be clear about what I'm saying so that I can't be further criticized for something that is said or not said. But then I come to the realization that criticism happens regardless, and what I say may be taken different ways by various readers. The mood of the journaling may be interpreted in two opposing ways. It leads me to a conclusion. I can't perform a "Vulcan mind-meld" to help people understand what I'm writing, but I can let the possible interpretations affect me less than I do. Maybe I actually can't, because I just considered deleting that in case it was misunderstood.
If you know me you realize that I am a person who considers the feelings and thoughts of others to the N-th degree. You may not think so, but the wheels are always turning about that stuff. Do you remember the hamster? It's about to have a heart attack now. Been working overtime this month. Funny thing about the hamster. Just when you think it's about to die, it somehow gets a second life. Almost possessed, is the hamster. I know you understand what I'm talking about.
It's time for me to work on myself again...still. Not to give up on other responsibilities or relationships while doing it. Contrarily, to enhance who I am through those relationships. Adverse to that, to loosen the grip of destruction caused by yet others. Not to give up on the people, but not to be affected as easily. I remember saying to one of my employees years ago that the person she was blaming for hurting her was not really the one who was responsible, even though the other person had wronged her. She was causing the anxiety herself by being preoccupy with the anger of the situation and how she was treated. That power was wielded because she enabled it to be wielded.
I haven't figured out how to apply all this in my own life. I haven't learned the "screw you" mentality. I probably never will, because tender and sensitive is what I want to be. I'm looking to learn how to be that without feeling every person's disappointment, every person's criticism. I'm thinking of someone right now who might share this hope for themselves with me.
So, for now I'll be writing with all these things going around my brain. I'll be tearing down some walls, but probably not all the way yet. Maybe just make them into cut-away walls first. You know the kind - a kitchen hole to pass the food through.

A little while ago a friend shared some of their secrets with me. It wasn't easy for them to do, because many of us are trained that such secrets shame us. Let me be forthright. The shame is in feeling the need to hide, rather than to share.
Burdens aren't meant to be carried alone. That's not to say that they are meant to be aired everywhere and to everyone. My friend chose me to talk to that night. I don't know why. They decided to let go of the habit of painting rosy pictures and be "real". At the end I told them that nothing had changed in my love for them. Or my perspective of how incredible that person is. And their secrets stay with me. I will not control who should be told or not told. I don't own their information...they do.
I don't tout myself as an example of how to be. I only relate my thoughts. As I write this some of you may try to speculate who that person is and what I'm talking about. But more so, I hope that you look at your own burdens and dark recesses and realize that those things have a tighter hold on you when you bury them. Freedom from their tyranny is yours if you wade through the shame and see that you are the one giving them the power to weigh you down.

MORRIS AND HIS WIFE ESTHER WENT TO THE STATE FAIR EVERY YEAR. EVERY YEAR, MORRIS WOULD SAY, "ESTHER, I'D LIKE TO RIDE IN THAT HELICOPTER."
ESTHER ALWAYS REPLIED, " I KNOW MORRIS, BUT THAT HELICOPTER RIDE IS 50 DOLLARS AND 50 DOLLARS IS 50 DOLLARS."
A FEW YEARS LATER, ESTHER AND MORRIS WENT TO THE FAIR. MORRIS SAID, "ESTHER, I'M 85 YEARS OLD. IF I DON'T RIDE THAT HELICOPTER NOW, I MIGHT NEVER GET ANOTHER CHANCE."
ESTHER REPLIED, "MORRIS, THAT HELICOPTER RIDE IS 50 DOLLARS AND 50 DOLLARS IS 50 DOLLARS."
THE PILOT OVERHEARD THE COUPLE. HE SAID, "FOLKS, I'LL MAKE YOU A DEAL.
I'LL TAKE THE BOTH OF YOU FOR A RIDE. IF YOU CAN STAY QUIET FOR THE ENTIRE RIDE AND NOT SAY A WORD, I WON'T CHARGE YOU! BUT IF YOU SAY ONE WORD, IT'S 50 DOLLARS."
MORRIS AND ESTHER AGREED -- AND UP THEY WENT.
THE PILOT DID ALL KINDS OF FANCY MANEUVERS. BUT NOT A WORD WAS HEARD.
HE DID HIS DAREDEVIL TRICKS OVER AND OVER AGAIN, BUT STILL NOT A WORD.
WHEN THEY LANDED, THE PILOT TURNED TO MORRIS. HE SAID, "BY GOLLY, I DID
EVERYTHING I COULD TO GET YOU TO YELL OUT, BUT YOU DIDN'T. I'M IMPRESSED!"
MORRIS REPLIED, "WELL, I WAS GOING TO SAY SOMETHING WHEN ESTHER FELL OUT, BUT 50 DOLLARS IS 50 DOLLARS!"

I'm reading through Psalms, in the Message Bible. So far there's a lot of "God, why aren't you rescuing me?" stuff. Psalm 22 shows me such a vast range of emotion about God. Here are some highlights.
God, God...Why did you dump me miles from nowhere? Doubled up with pain, I call to God all the day long. No answer. Nothing. I keep at it all night, tossing and turning.
And you! Are you indifferent, above it all, leaning back on the cushions of Israel's praise?...
Everyone pokes fun at me; they make faces at me, they shake their heads. "Let's see how God handles this one; since God likes him so much, let him help him!"
I'm a bucket kicked over and spilled, every joint in my body has been pulled apart. My heart is a blob of wax in my gut.

Now, as serious as David was, when I read this with a dramatic voice it almost becomes comedic. He was really crying the blues, wasn't he? Yet later, he comes around to praising God, despite what seems like negativity and criticism in the beginning verses. Try the following.
Shout Hallelujah, you God-worshippers; give glory, you sons of Jacob; adore him, you daughters of Israel. He has never let you down, never looked the other way when you were being kicked around. He has never wandered off to do his own thing; he has been right there listening.Maybe it's intentional that the next chapter is 23, with "The Lord is my shepherd I shall not want."...
"Your beauty and love chase after me every day of my life. I'm back home in the house of God for the rest of my life."

No matter where this life takes me, I want to end my thoughts with those such as David's. Whether I'm sad or whether I'm happy. If I feel cursed or if I feel blessed. It's a choice I have, even in moments that I don't feel like it.

He will never leave you nor forsake you. Praise be to God.

I've been trying to teach Matthew about "personal space". He has very little of it, and expects that others do also. He doesn't think that people should be uncomfortable with him shoving things at their face or bonking them on the head with stuff. So, I keep reminding him what personal space means and how large the average space need is (like I really know the answer).
Recently I was reminding him of this while on the way to a group event. I asked him if he understood what the term meant and asked him to explain it in his own words. He said it meant to stay out of someone's "territorial bubble". Huh? I asked him what that means, and he could define it quite well. Then I asked him where he learned the phrase. Turns out Jimmy Neutron is actually educational. Wow.

People say that the Bible seems to contradict itself. Take for instance, the topic of salvation. It is our choice, yet there are passages which say God determines who will be saved. A Bible School teacher said it this way:
Becoming saved is like walking through a door. The sign over the door says "Whosoever will may come". Once through the other side you turn around to look at the door and see a sign that says "You have not chosen me but I have chosen you".
Perhaps God is wise enough to make both things true.

Jesus bent down and started to write on the ground with his finger. When they kept on questioning him, he straightened up and said to them, "If any one of you is without sin, let him be the first to throw a stone at her." Again he stooped down and wrote on the ground. At this, those who heard began to go away one at a time, the older ones first, until only Jesus was left, with the woman still standing there.
There are many theories on why the people left. What sin was Jesus talking about? The woman was caught in adultery, so did that mean the men had experienced the same either physically or in thought? Had some of them been with her before? Was Jesus writing their sins in the sand in order to emphasize his point?
Sometimes we make stories to be more grand than they are. We dramatize and imagine all kinds of things. I wonder if it could have been simple. Jesus challenged the people and their laws of prejudice. It was not okay to cheat instead of commit adultery. It was not okay to lie instead of commit murder. It was not okay to yield the blade of words instead of the blade of the sword. None of it was fine. All of it was offense.
The fairy tale ending part of me thinks that Jesus intimidated the people into realizing this. Maybe into seeing that the way they were about to judge the woman was really the way all of them - all of us - should be judged. Apart from Jesus' forgiveness that is.
He has a way of making things right. Not always in what we consider the right timing. Not even in the heart or mind of the people you and I feel that he needs to do it in. It's confusing at times. One thing though, is clear. We are all sinners. We are all forgiven. What you have done does not disqualify you from deserving love and forgiveness. Nothing you could do will ever disqualify you.

Inspired by Jenn's movie personality results, and wanting to be the same one as her, I just finished the test. Look.

What the heck?????? I want to be Schindler's list, not some outdated movie about a guy who takes on all of Washington congress. Here's what it's about.
"Plot Outline: A naive man is appointed to fill a vacancy in the US Senate. His plans promptly collide with political corruption, but he doesn't back down."
I don't even understand politics. Why can't I be cool?

Just came back from the doctor's office. My usual experience with doctors is that when I have gone in with the same symptoms as my family members I am told there is nothing that can be done for me but to let the illness run it's course. That seems reasonable enough, but somehow the other family members come out with prescriptions for their identical ailments. Not today. I walked in for what I thought was a simple request, and left with requisition for blood tests, x-rays, and a referral to a neuro-specialist. By the way I'm not dying. It seems that at "my age" some preventative investigation becomes necessary. It's been many years since I had a needle, and tomorrow I'll be complaining all day about the "owie". If you're seeing me, be warned. I may want to show you the bandaid. Maybe I'll ask for a cute kiddie one, if they have them.
While waiting in the doctor's room I got bored of just sitting, so looked for something to read. No magazines were there, just a medical journal. Good enough for me. I looked up a couple of prescriptions I've heard of. Found out that one I take on occasion is now obsolete. Another reminder that I'm aging. I'll have to deal with that. Then I came across a very interesting piece of information. It was about medication to deal with throat pain. It apparently is absorbed through the hemorrhoid arteries and excreted through the tonsils. I didn't know that there was a hemorrhoid artery in the throat. I felt dumb for assuming it was in only one location. But then I read the end. It's a suppository! Who would ever imagine that inserting something - there - would provide relief elsewhere. Seems like too much sacrifice to me. Maybe it just provides a distraction so that you no longer notice the pain. Or maybe the threat of inserting something - you know where - is enough to kick in lots of endorphins. Would probably work for me!

A friend of mine commented that it was good I can poke fun at myself. Some days there is just so much material that I can't help but do it. Embarrassing, but revealing. Sometimes I feel like on of the Stooges or something. Today was one of those days.
Coming away from the Junction I think I forgot to go into one of the two left hand lanes to turn left onto Lougheed Highway. If you don't live here, I'm sorry to be specific, but you can probably picture what I mean. You may all be wondering why I said "I think I forgot". I'm not totally sure. I had the left signal light on. I was in auto-pilot mode, waiting at the light. When it turned red I began to turn left as I've done countless times. Then I said "Hey!" as this truck turns into my lane. I was just a bit behind it (thank goodness not beside it). Then as I was utrining into the lane behind the truck I noticed it's angle seemed to indicate that he had not crossed lanes. I looked in my rear view mirror. The person coming into the left lane behind me seemed on the same trajectory as the truck, and I seemed askewed. Then it dawned on me. I think I turned from the lane that was supposed to go straight. Maybe.......
This afternoon Matthew and I played Botchi Ball. During one round I noticed that Matthew seemed awfully pleased with his 2 throws compared to mine, and couldn't figure out why. He was much further away from the white ball than I was. As we approached to get the balls, I then noticed that he was aiming for the small white botchi ball, and I was aiming for....a wiffle ball. I think that's what you call the plastic baseballs with holes in them. We had to laugh about that.
Matthew let me play his Battleship computer game for 5 minutes today, and was excited to let me. He wanted to be the coach. As I had the ship sliding in all directions I pronounced "I suck at this!" He said "Yes mom, you do."

It's true. Actually, it's not really an eating disorder. It doesn't involve puking or bingeing. Let me show you a photo of my dinner plate when I was almost finished eating last night.

Can you see it? I have an even amount of each food left, with space between each food item. It's not an isolated occurence. When camping with the girls and kids, I was talking about it during breakfast. The pattern of eating rotating bites was apparent. I had the perfectly even amount of bacon, eggs, and toast left. I was going to end the meal with the sweet taste of jam and toast. In fact, I asked the girls which they thought I would end with and they pegged it. Yummy...sweet...jam. Suddenly one of the people took my last bite of toast and jam and threw it towards the fire. It landed on the ground. I was upset that my prize was wasted. But maybe it wasn't dirty yet. I ran for the fire, quickly examined it, and chewed the parts that were clean. You know the movie "Big" when Tom Hanks chewed the tiny corn? Just like that. Ah, it was wonderful. Not to mention done on purpose to make a point. I've been known to seize food out of a person's mouth if they stole it off my plate. Don't mess with me and the food. OKAY????!!!!!!!

Jordon talks about walking through life without much strong sense of family. In it he talks about his mom and how he misses her. On many occasions I've considered writing a post on my mom, and this is the day.
Many of you know that mom spent a number of months with me this year. The other day someone asked me how that went, and they had a wincing look in their eye. I smiled and said "Great! My mom is my best friend." Now, if I call you my best friend you can't be jealous. Being a friend who is a best friend is not in the same category as being a mom who is a best friend.
I remember hearing about other parents/moms staying with couples for months at a time. I always thought it was weird, even sick. Yet that's not how I felt about my own mom.
How can you be upset about being around someone who just knows how to fit? Knows the right time to help with something, to show love, to back away, to joke around? Some people are just plain nice to have around. She has a gift of being there but not being intrusive. Of being loving but not smothering. Know what I mean?
These are the least of things I can say about mom, as I don't want to gush here. I better be careful how I write these things though - maybe it will make her want to live with me! Talk about a good thing going bad. (Just kidding.)

It's been just over a year since I began blogging. It was with reluctant sign-up that it began. I didn't feel I would have the time or the ideas to do this. Many times that feeling returned and I considered closing the site for one reason or another. Last week was again one of those times when I thought "It's not worth it".
I haven't written this much in my whole life. I decided it would be good to go back through my archives and see the progression of my life as it was portrayed physically, spiritually and emotionally. I wanted to see if there was any change in me throughout the documented life of Annette.
When I look back to last July and August (which is as far as I've gone) I read about some of the same things I still write or think about. Forgiveness and gossip was on the blog in July, but it was about someone other than me. Facing fears was there too. Feeling disconnected as a person. The redemptive power of Christ, in every facet of life. As I read these writings, I was in a way surprised and sometimes disappointed at how fully I have borne my soul. Telling of experiences that shaped me. Dreams and nightmares. So much was revealed to people that I may not even know.
Reading and copying them onto my hard drive was a way of creating a journal of the past. I still deal with the same ghosts I dealt with then, though gladly on a lesser scale. And I deal with new ones that I had never before experienced. But one thing stands out so strongly. One thing encouraged me.
Some of the things that had a strangle-hold no longer do. Some of the things I wrestled with regularly are now in God's hands...for real. I can see very clearly part of the journey I've been on, and where it has taken me from and to. As it continues I hope for more of the same. Whether I write about it or not.

A New Life
He included everyone in his death so that everyone could also be included in his life, a resurrection life, a far better life than people ever lived on their own. Because of this decision we don't evaluate people by what they have or how they look. We looked at the Messiah that way once and got it all wrong, as you know. We certainly don't look at him that way anymore. Now we look inside, and what we see is that anyone united with the Messiah gets a fresh start, is created new. The old life is gone; a new life burgeons! Look at it!