So Much to Think About

Yesterday in Sunday school, our teacher was talking about fiscal responsibility and what the Bible says about finances. The claim for Socialism that some say is found in the Bible is much different to the actual meaning of Christ’s followers giving money into a communal collection for other persecuted and poverty-stricken believers. This act of voluntary kindness was done out of charity and not a forced confiscation and distribution of wealth by the government. The early Christians earned money, gave from their bounty, and yet were allowed to keep what they earned if they chose to do so.

The second thing we talked about was quality. When a person buys something that wears well and lasts a long time, it instills the notion of brand loyalty. Most often the travelling salesman selling snake-oil or other high-promise and low-quality products will not be welcome should he make a second round of the area.

When the subject wandered into long-lasting items, our teacher mentioned that the Hebrew children wandered in the wilderness for 40 years and their clothing and shoes didn’t wear out. Now, that’s quality. Then he said his wife still had clothing in the closet that has been there almost that long.

This leads me to say, I still have several articles of clothing that I bought as a sophomore in high school. I worked on a dairy farm one summer to earn money for school clothes. The one sweater that I bought has a zigzag design of charcoal, red, burgundy and grey that runs across the entire sweater. Because it is so soft and warm, I’ve kept it although it is worn through at the elbows. I only wear it under my hunting clothes for warmth. The fluffiness makes an excellent insulating layer.

I kidded my son that I was going to will it to him when I died. I gave it to him when he visited and immediately forgot that I had. It took two seasons of hunting and me complaining that I couldn’t find it when my son reminded me that I had given it to him. I was embarrassed when he returned it on a trip from his home in Amarillo, Texas. Sorry Andrew.

Off to the Races

I saw a dear friend’s post yesterday saying that it was becoming harder and harder to rise above her daily challenges as she aged. It was taking longer and longer to complete some of the simple things that she never before thought twice about doing. But I have begun to see things differently and my thoughts lead down another path.

Each day when I wake, I have met the minimal daily requirement. My heart is still beating and my lungs are taking in oxygen that I need to survive and allow my eyes to see another day. Everything after that is just icing on the cake.

I roll out of bed and survey the tasks in my schedule, making my plan of attack. That says my brain is still working and I can think. When chores become too difficult to do the way I once used to do, I change my method of dealing with it. I do what I can or work around the problem until I can find something else to fill the bill or I do without.

I can still run the race, albeit much slower than I once could, but I still manage to cross the finish line. My emotions stir as I see the goal getting closer and closer. The anticipation builds. The joy and excitement escapes when the job is done and behind me.

God never promised that the race He has planned for me would be easy. He has never asked me to be the first person to cross the finish line. He just asks that I start the race, continue pushing forward, and to run to the best of my ability. The rewards and crowns that God gives to us are for all those who finish the marathon and not just for those in first place.

In Philippians 3:14, the Apostle Paul writes, “I press toward the mark for the prize of the high calling of God in Christ Jesus.” He was looking ahead, saying he hadn’t reached the goal line, but he was still keeping on course.

Not the SAMA Old Evening

Last Friday evening was the launch of The Loyalhanna Review. It is an annual publication that collects and shares the talent of writers and photographers it its glossy pages. The magazine has been able to gather, spotlight, and focus attention on these skilled and gifted craftspeople of pen and camera. Each year, this magazine gains in prestige and distribution.

Friday’s gala event took place in the Southern Allegheny Museum of Art located just outside Ligonier, Pennsylvania. Ruth McDonald is the Editor in Chief of The Loyalhanna Review and was the emcee for the evening. Several of the writers were chosen then introduced to share their words of art with the gathered crowd. This year, as the reputation of the magazine spreads, so do the writers who enter. This year, we had a writer from Baltimore, Maryland submitted and was accepted for publication. She drove to join us at the event.

The stories and poetry of 30 page magazine is interspaced with colored photographs. Copies were distributed to the attendees, giving them first chance to hold the freshly printed literary collection. They were given the opportunity to see and later hear the offerings inside.

A tantalizing buffet of dainties filled one corner of the art gallery and as people mingled before and after the presentation and readings, sampling the varied foods and drink. The variety of foodstuffs was able to tempt the taste buds of the pickiest of palates.

The inside walls of the museum is lined with wonderfully beautiful paintings adding an air of formality to the affair.

My Cogs Are Slipping

Because yesterday was another busy day, in my rush, I mistakenly drove to the wrong physician’s office. My appointment was for 1:30 and as usual I arrived early. As I got out of my car and started for the door of the Norwin health center in Irwin, Pennsylvania, I had the feeling something wasn’t right. I stopped and as the physician’s name popped into my head. The location of the office and the doctor’s name didn’t jive. It was now 1:05 p.m. and I was supposed to be in Greensburg for the 1:30 appointment.

I hopped back into my car and hustled back on Route 30. There were several red lights and some slow traffic, but I made it with 10 minutes to spare. I think I will have to plan my routes more carefully to prevent another slipped cog in the old mental machine. I was on time and able to get an injection into my right shoulder. It was feeling more comfortable within the hour and I think it even made my sore back somewhat less severe.

But this entire week has been hectic. I had a writers meeting later last evening at the Mt. Pleasant Public Library. And I must say, the roadway in town is almost like a battlefield with deep trenches, fox holes, and construction “soldiers” lining the streets guiding traffic and making more tank traps.

After the meeting was over many of the writers escaped to McCauley’s through the carnage of the streets. The soldier’s were gone, but the traps remained. On the Diamond, the Doughboy on his tall cylindrical perch was watching over us as we were on R & R and ate our rations.

I have the morning free to wash a load of clothing, then later today, I’ll attend the Southern Allegheny Museum of Art on the outskirts of Ligonier for the Launching of the 2017 The Loyalhanna Review magazine filled with photos and writings of local men and women. Short storied, poetry, and beautiful photographs fill glossy pages. It is always an interesting evening.

Another Day

After doing wood stacking, my back has been sore, especially painful when I get up from a sitting position. Monday as I was mowing my yard and my eighty plus year old neighbor’s yard, my riding mower threw a belt. I wasn’t able to get under it and called my local mower repairman and friend. He said that he would be out, but not on Monday. I knew that I would be away most of the day today and I left the garage door open for him.

I called him to see what the bill would be and usual he said we’d settle later. Not only had the belt kicked off, but it sheared a bolt the he also replaced. He’s reasonable, so I know he won’t break the bank. He asked if I had a chance to try it and said no. It was a busy day forme and I had no time for the evening meal, grabbing a sandwich.

I was up early and stopped at “Wally World” for a few groceries before heading to my daughter’s house. I was babysitting for my granddaughter Hannah Yoder. Today, she was a good kid. Some days she can be a little bit stubborn wanting her way. With my back so sore, we settled that problem early while her mom was still there. I placed a wooden spoon beside the couch and the groundwork was laid for good behavior.

I was freed from that duty just after 5 pm and hurried home to grab a bite then hopped back into the car and headed to Stahlstown for the monthly Chestnut Ridge Historical Society meeting, The speaker was from the National Park Services, explaining its history and some local attractions.

One busy day down and gearing up for the rest of the week. Sometimes it seems like retiring means being tired time after time. 

This and That

One of the wonderful treats that I could get was the foil-wrapped and brightly colored box of sweet, caramel-flavored peanut and popcorn snack Cracker Jacks. The delicious snack had buried deep inside the wax-coated flavor-keeping pack was a hidden treasure. It may have been a ring, a whistle, a metal-balled game, or plastic animal. Things have changed. The flavor is still there, but those prizes lack the lure and desire to claim them. The last time my yearning to visit this childhood memory caused me to actually buy and sample this concoction, I was disappointed. The flavor was the same. The popcorn still had the rich caramel coating, the peanuts still settled closer to the bottom, but the prize I found was a lick-em and stick-em tattoo. It wasn’t very exciting for an adult who had sampled the past buried treasures and regaled at the quest of finding these worthwhile little caches.

I often find myself purchasing a similar product fiddle-faddle. It has a buttery, sweet flavor of caramel or toffee and comes in a larger sized package, for my adult sized appetite. It has the peanuts that often sticks to the clusters of popcorn welded together by the toffee or caramel. To me, tasting the peanut embedded in the clump is the hidden treasure and I know that I won’t be disappointed. I know that there will not be some reward lying unclaimed at the bottom of the box.

The only disappointment that I may feel is that there is no more of this scrumptious snack left in the package and a feeling of guilt when I think that I ate the entire package and that I was unable to satisfy my appetite to just two or three of those luscious clumps. My heart and childhood memories of those hidden prizes still belong to Cracker Jack, but my adult appetite belongs to fiddle-faddle.

 

Choosing Weather or Not

The rain today and the storms last night caused me to think of how the weather we see and experience on the outdoors compares to the emotions that fill our bodies and how the weather on the outside affects the feelings we have inside us. It took many people’s observations and many years of insight to connect the two, but once the connection was made, it is easy for us to see why..

The storms we had last night raged with strong winds, pounding rain, sharp flashes of lightning and loud claps of thunder. They often mirror the confusion and strong upheaval in our lives.

The flashes of lightning may mimic our anger that sometimes causes devastating outcomes with those around us, destroying friendships and relationships that have taken years to build. It may blind others and not allow them to see who we really are.

Powerful devastating winds may push others away or damage lifelong projects in a short violent outburst of a tornado or the longer more persistent winds of a hurricane. Thunder can echo our rumbling complaints or loud rolling bravado. Thick gray clouds overhead can be veils of depression, sadness, or disappointment that hide the sunshine of hope and love.

Sometimes these storms cause flooding and overfill our souls with devastating effects. We cannot retain the rush of it all and our emotions overflow with sadness and weeping and we stand hopelessly by watching things we hold dear fall into rubble.

The coldness of the winter and winds are like bitterness. It stops us from becoming the persons we should be, allowing the fruits of envy, jealousy, and enmity to develop where friendships once grew, while the sunshine of happiness for friends and their achievements can quickly melt the seeds of those divisive fruits and not let them take root.

We can choose whether or not to allow the weather of our emotions to rule our lives and which feeling we allow to grow.