We said goodbye to a very dear friend today. I know she's pretty busy catching up with her family, but I hope she finds time to say hi to my mom. With only a couple of exceptions the funeral was a very nice meeting and remembrance of a lovely lady, a strong disciple of her savior, and example to all.
Even in such a reverent setting, I couldn't help the caustic comment that "that isn't allowed," when the grandson made oral references from the pulpit about the music he was about to play. And HE was even there! What was that about. I'm sure no one got a scotch blessing out of that. No, I am NOT bitter.
What I want to say about this situation is that there is never anything wrong with a slight introduction and explanation of a piece of music when it adds to the moment. In fact, I think it adds to the enjoyment, or even worship, when you can understand a little about the selection. I totally enjoyed that piece of music and the young man made it even more enjoyable by his comments about his grandmother.
Onward.
The men in my dad's little girl's life went on a backpacking trip this weekend. No one was particularly prepared and they bit off a little more than they could do. Each one of them is of course older than the last time they tried this and so time takes it's toll. And even tho they made lemonade out of their lemons (I can fill this up with cliches) they are a bit disappointed, not to mention pooped.
I thought about all the projects I could pick from to accomplish while this precious time was mine. There was painting the hallway, moving the fridge (first removing the cabinets that are in the way), sewing for those cute little granddaughters, reading, sleeping, watching movies. But there was my dad and then my brother and then my aunt needed her hair colored, and my friend needed to be funeralized and I had to do a little grocery shopping and there was dad again and then they came home... I bet you can't guess how many projects I was able to finish!
Last week was third grade, first grade, and then fourth grade. Monday I go all the way to fifth grade! That hasn't happened yet this year. But the teacher has lost her position at the school because of budget cuts and is off to apply at another school district. We all need some kind of work so I hope she is successful. Wednesday I drop down to first grade and again on Friday.
I think that chocolatey cream cheesy cupcake sounds pretty good. So do caramels rolled in sea salt. Maybe we should make some more cards.
Saturday, April 25, 2009
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
Thanks, my friend, for finding this:
My friend found the rest of this monologue about mother:
Your mother is always with you.
She's the whisper of the leaves as you walk down the street.
She's the smell of certain foods you remember, the flowers
you buy and the perfume that she wore.
She's the cool hand on your brow when you're not feeling well,
she's your breath in the air on a cold winter's day.
She's the sound of the rain that lulls you to sleep,
the colours of a rainbow, she is Christmas morning.
Your mother lives inside your laughter. . . she is crystallized
in every tear drop.
A mother shows every emotion . . . happiness, love, hate, anger,
helplessness, excitement, joy and sorrow.
And all the while, hoping and praying you will only know the
good things in life.
She's the place you came from, your first home and she's the map
you follow with every you step you take.
She's your first love, your first friend,
and even your first enemy,
but nothing on earth can separate you.
Not time, not space and not even death.
Your mother is always with you.
She's the whisper of the leaves as you walk down the street.
She's the smell of certain foods you remember, the flowers
you buy and the perfume that she wore.
She's the cool hand on your brow when you're not feeling well,
she's your breath in the air on a cold winter's day.
She's the sound of the rain that lulls you to sleep,
the colours of a rainbow, she is Christmas morning.
Your mother lives inside your laughter. . . she is crystallized
in every tear drop.
A mother shows every emotion . . . happiness, love, hate, anger,
helplessness, excitement, joy and sorrow.
And all the while, hoping and praying you will only know the
good things in life.
She's the place you came from, your first home and she's the map
you follow with every you step you take.
She's your first love, your first friend,
and even your first enemy,
but nothing on earth can separate you.
Not time, not space and not even death.
Sunday, April 19, 2009
Missionaries and Families
I'm on a roll and so I am entering yet another heart gripper. First, though, I want to remember my friend Bernice. She left us last night and I feel an empty space in my heart. She was a very dear friend.
Enjoy:
They were five teenagers with ordinary faces. They had the kind of haircuts that tuck well under baseball caps. Their young bodies contrasted sharply with the white shirts and sober suits they all wore. They dressed as men that day.
All around them clustered family, quietly talking, laughing, crying, waiting. The plane was almost ready to begin boarding. The plane's destination was the Soviet Union.
These five young men, some with their suit jackets slung across their arms, quietly gathered together. They spoke in low tones while the noise and bustle of the airline terminal swirled around them.
Each had a crying mother, a proud father, a family unit to say goodbye to. They would be gone for two years. They were some of the first to test glasnost and enter the Soviet Union with long-forbidden books of religion, and a message about God.
The plane was ready for boarding.
The five young men put down their precious books, their suitcases, their flowers and cards. They stood together in silence, and then as one voice, they began to sing.
Quiet and hardly noticed at first, their harmony rose clearer and deeper as all noise and movement in the airline terminal slowly ceased. They were singing for their families. They were singing for themselves. They were singing for all the lives they hoped to touch in Communist Russia.
"God be with us till we meet again," they sang. "Till we meet, at Jesus' feet. God be with us till we meet again."
As they sang, their families joined to form one family, linking hands and weeping. Strangers stopped in mid-stride as they entered the stilled terminal and heard singing. All around them travelers stood with bowed heads and glistening eyes.
"Till we meet, till we meet. God be with us till we meet again."
Then they were gone, in a last flurry of hugs and kisses. They left behind them a song and an experience that was extraordinary.
Peace had come briefly, fleetingly, to an airline terminal. Peace followed five young men onto a plane bound for Russia. Peace that had nothing to do with nuclear arsenals or Geneva conventions. Peace as simple and moving as a song.
God be with them.
and with you...
Enjoy:
They were five teenagers with ordinary faces. They had the kind of haircuts that tuck well under baseball caps. Their young bodies contrasted sharply with the white shirts and sober suits they all wore. They dressed as men that day.
All around them clustered family, quietly talking, laughing, crying, waiting. The plane was almost ready to begin boarding. The plane's destination was the Soviet Union.
These five young men, some with their suit jackets slung across their arms, quietly gathered together. They spoke in low tones while the noise and bustle of the airline terminal swirled around them.
Each had a crying mother, a proud father, a family unit to say goodbye to. They would be gone for two years. They were some of the first to test glasnost and enter the Soviet Union with long-forbidden books of religion, and a message about God.
The plane was ready for boarding.
The five young men put down their precious books, their suitcases, their flowers and cards. They stood together in silence, and then as one voice, they began to sing.
Quiet and hardly noticed at first, their harmony rose clearer and deeper as all noise and movement in the airline terminal slowly ceased. They were singing for their families. They were singing for themselves. They were singing for all the lives they hoped to touch in Communist Russia.
"God be with us till we meet again," they sang. "Till we meet, at Jesus' feet. God be with us till we meet again."
As they sang, their families joined to form one family, linking hands and weeping. Strangers stopped in mid-stride as they entered the stilled terminal and heard singing. All around them travelers stood with bowed heads and glistening eyes.
"Till we meet, till we meet. God be with us till we meet again."
Then they were gone, in a last flurry of hugs and kisses. They left behind them a song and an experience that was extraordinary.
Peace had come briefly, fleetingly, to an airline terminal. Peace followed five young men onto a plane bound for Russia. Peace that had nothing to do with nuclear arsenals or Geneva conventions. Peace as simple and moving as a song.
God be with them.
and with you...
Another Mother Story
This one is also borrowed. But the sentiment is still the same.
Love, From Your Daughter Barbara
Even as a child I loved to sing. I would go into my room after church on Sunday and draw pictures and sing and sing, until my mother came to the door to say, "Mary, please don't sing so loud in here. It's not that we don't like to know you are happy, honey, but you know you just can't carry a tune."
Singing was in my heart, though, and I would go up into the woods behind our house and run through the woods singing all the songs I wanted to: sad songs that broke my heart and I'd cry, and happy songs that made me feel so good I'd laugh out loud.
When I married and had my first child, I would sit and sing the loveliest songs to him. Songs I made up from my heart to tell him how much I loved him---how special he was to me. And he would smile and cuddle close to me and fall asleep in my arms as I sang my songs of joy.
Each child, then, received his or her own special song, made up just for that child, telling of my feelings and love for him. I sang only when there was no one around, for my husband agreed with my mother. "I'm sorry, honey, but you sound just awful when you sing."
The children didn't seem to mind my off-tune voice at all. In fact, we sang wonderful play songs together, laughing and playing and enjoying the sound of our voices. Many happy hours were spent sitting, marching, walking, and playing games with singsong instructions.
After having four wonderful children, I received my greatest joy---twin boys! What a blessing. How wonderful it was to sit and hold them in my arms for hours, singing of my love for them while they cuddled close to me and then fell asleep.
Because everyone had always told me that my singing voice left much to be desired, I hesitated to sing for anyone except the babies. In church, even though I knew the Lord loved to hear us sing, my "noise unto the Lord" was a very soft noise. And at home I always made sure the house was empty before I picked up my hymnbook to sing my favorites.
One evening after the children had all gone to bed and my husband had duty at the Navy base, I picked up my hymnbook and began to sing "How Gentle God's Commands." I sang and felt the great love of our Heavenly Father who loves us so much even though we disregard his gentle commands.
"O My Father," I sang, aching to go back to his home where I could be with him again.
"The Lord is My Light"---my favorite---I sang with all the love I felt in my heart for the guidance he had given me in my life.
Finishing my singing, I put my head in my arms and poured out my heart to my Heavenly Father, thanking him for the love he had for us, and for the great feeling of peace that came to me when I could sit and sing to him and talk to him, escaping from this mortal world for even a few minutes.
Then I turned out the lights and went upstairs to my room. I noticed a sheet of paper on the dressser that hadn't been there before. I picked it up and tears came to my eyes as I read:
Mom
I don't care what any one says about your singing voice. But I think it was so butiful the way you sang them songs. I was crying in my bed wile I was lisenning to you sing, and I love you very much.
Love from your daughter Barbara
I found her with tears in her eyes in her bed. "Oh, Barbie," I said, "you are the only person who has ever told me he likes my singing. Thank you, honey." She hugged me back and sobbed, "Mommie, I just couldn't let it go. I had to get out of bed and write that note to you. I was crying listening to your beautiful singing."
I thought later that if our Heavenly Father loves my voice so much he inspires my daughter to write me a lovely note and share her feelings with me, he must love to hear us sing more than I realize.
The next Sunday when we sang the opening song, I sang out just as loud as the rest of the people did. My Heavenly Father liked my voice and that was all that mattered to me!
This was long! I hope you made it through. There are a lot of angles in this piece, but motherhood is still the subject.
Love, From Your Daughter Barbara
Even as a child I loved to sing. I would go into my room after church on Sunday and draw pictures and sing and sing, until my mother came to the door to say, "Mary, please don't sing so loud in here. It's not that we don't like to know you are happy, honey, but you know you just can't carry a tune."
Singing was in my heart, though, and I would go up into the woods behind our house and run through the woods singing all the songs I wanted to: sad songs that broke my heart and I'd cry, and happy songs that made me feel so good I'd laugh out loud.
When I married and had my first child, I would sit and sing the loveliest songs to him. Songs I made up from my heart to tell him how much I loved him---how special he was to me. And he would smile and cuddle close to me and fall asleep in my arms as I sang my songs of joy.
Each child, then, received his or her own special song, made up just for that child, telling of my feelings and love for him. I sang only when there was no one around, for my husband agreed with my mother. "I'm sorry, honey, but you sound just awful when you sing."
The children didn't seem to mind my off-tune voice at all. In fact, we sang wonderful play songs together, laughing and playing and enjoying the sound of our voices. Many happy hours were spent sitting, marching, walking, and playing games with singsong instructions.
After having four wonderful children, I received my greatest joy---twin boys! What a blessing. How wonderful it was to sit and hold them in my arms for hours, singing of my love for them while they cuddled close to me and then fell asleep.
Because everyone had always told me that my singing voice left much to be desired, I hesitated to sing for anyone except the babies. In church, even though I knew the Lord loved to hear us sing, my "noise unto the Lord" was a very soft noise. And at home I always made sure the house was empty before I picked up my hymnbook to sing my favorites.
One evening after the children had all gone to bed and my husband had duty at the Navy base, I picked up my hymnbook and began to sing "How Gentle God's Commands." I sang and felt the great love of our Heavenly Father who loves us so much even though we disregard his gentle commands.
"O My Father," I sang, aching to go back to his home where I could be with him again.
"The Lord is My Light"---my favorite---I sang with all the love I felt in my heart for the guidance he had given me in my life.
Finishing my singing, I put my head in my arms and poured out my heart to my Heavenly Father, thanking him for the love he had for us, and for the great feeling of peace that came to me when I could sit and sing to him and talk to him, escaping from this mortal world for even a few minutes.
Then I turned out the lights and went upstairs to my room. I noticed a sheet of paper on the dressser that hadn't been there before. I picked it up and tears came to my eyes as I read:
Mom
I don't care what any one says about your singing voice. But I think it was so butiful the way you sang them songs. I was crying in my bed wile I was lisenning to you sing, and I love you very much.
Love from your daughter Barbara
I found her with tears in her eyes in her bed. "Oh, Barbie," I said, "you are the only person who has ever told me he likes my singing. Thank you, honey." She hugged me back and sobbed, "Mommie, I just couldn't let it go. I had to get out of bed and write that note to you. I was crying listening to your beautiful singing."
I thought later that if our Heavenly Father loves my voice so much he inspires my daughter to write me a lovely note and share her feelings with me, he must love to hear us sing more than I realize.
The next Sunday when we sang the opening song, I sang out just as loud as the rest of the people did. My Heavenly Father liked my voice and that was all that mattered to me!
This was long! I hope you made it through. There are a lot of angles in this piece, but motherhood is still the subject.
Friday, April 17, 2009
My Mother
Mom passed away almost three years ago. Her mortal birthday was April 5th and so I of course have been thinking of her. I was reminded of a monologue I heard once on a tv show. It was so touching to me that I played it back over and over again until I had it word for word. Here it is for, I hope, your enjoyment:
Your mother is always with you. She's the whisper of the leaves as you walk down the street. She's the smell of bleach in your freshly laundered sox. She's the cool hand on your brow when you're not well. Your mother lives inside your laughter and she's crystallized in every teardrop.
She's the place you came from---your first home---and she's the map you follow with every step that you take. She's your first love and your first heart-break and nothing on earth can separate you, not time, not space, not even death.
I've got another one for next time.
Your mother is always with you. She's the whisper of the leaves as you walk down the street. She's the smell of bleach in your freshly laundered sox. She's the cool hand on your brow when you're not well. Your mother lives inside your laughter and she's crystallized in every teardrop.
She's the place you came from---your first home---and she's the map you follow with every step that you take. She's your first love and your first heart-break and nothing on earth can separate you, not time, not space, not even death.
I've got another one for next time.
Thursday, April 9, 2009
I was in a first grade class this week and again experienced the Tongan prophet who probably should be in a higher grade but isn't. Math was taught after lunch and Pro sat on the floor in the back of the group and proceeded to go to sleep---even stretching out on the floor. The kids said that he did that all the time and I was supposed to send him to the office. No, I said, and invited Pro to sit up by me where he could hear and participate in the math lesson.
I wonder how many times we allow the children to "rule" in the classroom and "get away with" actions such as this so they don't have to learn. Even in a class of only 21 students it's easy to pass on the kids who are trying to get attention in any way they can think of. They begin to fall thru the cracks even in first grade and learn how to manipulate the whole system long before they fail out of high school. I am truly sorry for these children who are looking for the easiest way to "get things done." What kind of people will be our teachers, government officials, etc., in the future? I quake in my boots at the possible answer to this question.
On another note, I think I see a daffodil trying to bloom in my "garden." And the tulips have heads, just not blossoms yet. There is hope...
I wonder how many times we allow the children to "rule" in the classroom and "get away with" actions such as this so they don't have to learn. Even in a class of only 21 students it's easy to pass on the kids who are trying to get attention in any way they can think of. They begin to fall thru the cracks even in first grade and learn how to manipulate the whole system long before they fail out of high school. I am truly sorry for these children who are looking for the easiest way to "get things done." What kind of people will be our teachers, government officials, etc., in the future? I quake in my boots at the possible answer to this question.
On another note, I think I see a daffodil trying to bloom in my "garden." And the tulips have heads, just not blossoms yet. There is hope...
This came to me in an email today from one of my daughters-in-law. I went to the notated website and found it to be a viable site. I think we should be aware of what the government wants to do "for" us. I want to be able to trust my dr and to know he or she has the same ethics and conscience that I hope I do. I signed my name to this page and urge any of you to at least go there and see what they have to say.
April 2, 2009
An open letter to my Patients and Friends,
I wanted to alert you to a potential change that could have a big effect on how you are cared for by your doctor and the doctors in our and other offices. In December of 2008 government rules were put in place to protect physicians from either having to do something they don’t believe in or having to refer patients for something they don’t believe in. There is now a plan to do away with these rules. This would mean we would have to at least refer patients for something we don’t feel is ethical and violates our personal conscience (abortion, single women and birth control are the major issues).
If these rules are removed, our ability to act according to our personal conscience and ethics in caring for you is at risk. For us, that could begin the downhill path which would mean you couldn’t count on your doctor to protect you or a family member since the personal beliefs of your doctor that you know can’t be reflected in the care you get. If it starts with these issues, what is to prevent more changes in the future?
This is important enough that we, in our group, would have to stop practicing medicine, stop seeing patients where the government pays for health care (Medicare & Medicaid), or try finding a new way to be paid for caring for you.
If you can access the Internet, please go to www.freedom2care.org and click on the top where it says “Patients-comment here” to help us in this fight. This will lead you through a process where you can register your disagreement with the proposed changes via the Internet. If you don’t have the ability to use the Internet, ask us and we’ll provide you the information.
The time to do this is now as the government must hear from you and us by April 9, 2009. This issue is critical for the way we could care for you and still keep our own integrity. To protect the care you will receive in the future, please help us today.
Sincerely,
Dale E. Michels, MD, D-ABFM
April 2, 2009
An open letter to my Patients and Friends,
I wanted to alert you to a potential change that could have a big effect on how you are cared for by your doctor and the doctors in our and other offices. In December of 2008 government rules were put in place to protect physicians from either having to do something they don’t believe in or having to refer patients for something they don’t believe in. There is now a plan to do away with these rules. This would mean we would have to at least refer patients for something we don’t feel is ethical and violates our personal conscience (abortion, single women and birth control are the major issues).
If these rules are removed, our ability to act according to our personal conscience and ethics in caring for you is at risk. For us, that could begin the downhill path which would mean you couldn’t count on your doctor to protect you or a family member since the personal beliefs of your doctor that you know can’t be reflected in the care you get. If it starts with these issues, what is to prevent more changes in the future?
This is important enough that we, in our group, would have to stop practicing medicine, stop seeing patients where the government pays for health care (Medicare & Medicaid), or try finding a new way to be paid for caring for you.
If you can access the Internet, please go to www.freedom2care.org and click on the top where it says “Patients-comment here” to help us in this fight. This will lead you through a process where you can register your disagreement with the proposed changes via the Internet. If you don’t have the ability to use the Internet, ask us and we’ll provide you the information.
The time to do this is now as the government must hear from you and us by April 9, 2009. This issue is critical for the way we could care for you and still keep our own integrity. To protect the care you will receive in the future, please help us today.
Sincerely,
Dale E. Michels, MD, D-ABFM
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)