tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-62298183910949493272024-03-12T16:41:36.394-07:00Dee Dee ChumleyFocusing on Everyday GraceDee Deehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05075414876444998775noreply@blogger.comBlogger199125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6229818391094949327.post-87557154781089958002024-01-12T10:24:00.000-08:002024-01-12T10:24:11.953-08:00My Word for 2024 -- Meditate<p style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 16px; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">In 2018, rather than making resolutions (which held a slim chance of being kept) I began choosing a word on which to focus throughout the year. With the exception of 2022 in which I focused on songs, I’ve stuck to that practice and feel it has served me well. When the words are positive—<i>joy, hope, community, shine, goodness</i>—it is truly surprising how they can provide inspiration and encouragement throughout the year, even on those days that aren’t going so great. </span></p><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 16px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">For 2024, I first considered the word <i>abide</i>. So many good definitions and Bible verses are associated with that word. In fact, just this morning, our pastor delivered a sermon on abiding, and I was tempted to revert to it. Rather than struggling with writing this post, I could just <span style="text-decoration: line-through;">plagiariz </span>borrow his words—giving due credit, of course.</span></p><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 16px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">But I stuck to my final choice: <i>meditate. </i>I arrived at this word because after checking the definitions of <i>abide, </i>I came to the conclusion that dwelling or remaining in the place I wanted required arriving there first. I thought meditation would be one good way--among others--to get to that place. To confirm this belief, I checked the definitions of <i>meditate</i>: 1) to engage in thought or contemplation; reflect 2) to engage in devout religious contemplation, or quiet spiritual introspection. Synonyms include <i>ponder</i>, <i>consider</i>, <i>think</i>, <i>deliberate,</i> <i>study. </i>Some scripture synonyms I found—<i>continue, dwell, remember, muse, treasure, be absorbed</i>, and, perhaps my favorite in The Message translation, “chew on.” </span></p><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 16px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">Attempts at meditation aren’t new to me, but I admit I struggle. The problem comes from emptying my mind of all non-meditation-worthy thoughts. For some reason, the moment my mind receives the message I’m going to meditate, it decides to offer up for consideration every thought, situation, activity, worry, etc. it can conceive of. Eyes opened, eyes closed, deep breathing, different positions, different activities—they all help to a degree but I’ve yet to master the pathway to truly deep, meaningful meditation. Perhaps that's because the method isn't as important as the <i>motivation </i>and the <i>focus</i> of my meditating.</span></p><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3Jes7HP6Osvww73-xYcNi1025IOd-1-m0d4Oa7Vpot1h6wZScUeWexYPNoNTdmNwxDAkdwZZ7R3H_pWGMkEjs_Voa6nBkPFmtJocxYRIbrZs23fpwza5W_fivtcBMOLKO9WvKNnuuDEisRi9KwsfWVs9e0XQSXJIHYb9ZEBNbQ05mpnBPs8dKyk3PAYBp/s1280/yoga-5281457_1280.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="854" data-original-width="1280" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3Jes7HP6Osvww73-xYcNi1025IOd-1-m0d4Oa7Vpot1h6wZScUeWexYPNoNTdmNwxDAkdwZZ7R3H_pWGMkEjs_Voa6nBkPFmtJocxYRIbrZs23fpwza5W_fivtcBMOLKO9WvKNnuuDEisRi9KwsfWVs9e0XQSXJIHYb9ZEBNbQ05mpnBPs8dKyk3PAYBp/s320/yoga-5281457_1280.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Perhaps how we meditate isn't as important as ...</span></td></tr></tbody></table><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><br /><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span><p></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmUiDPNSr5bmp4dlq3bpCLtbLumv5AfSAURIJtBI8tBYk7EyCcZywwwP64t0HsMyRT9uqi5O1UWL_Gr2t4ZTEC5Tds59uK9LSm24gFM5VLhKSFcR1eHosnU6lji3iQh3e4QnNPElat4BNPISLvbuYJJqCBAPPNOE-OUT62JAI2B_DjOqEx7_f-5qPc6TE_/s1280/alone-1869997_1280.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="855" data-original-width="1280" height="262" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmUiDPNSr5bmp4dlq3bpCLtbLumv5AfSAURIJtBI8tBYk7EyCcZywwwP64t0HsMyRT9uqi5O1UWL_Gr2t4ZTEC5Tds59uK9LSm24gFM5VLhKSFcR1eHosnU6lji3iQh3e4QnNPElat4BNPISLvbuYJJqCBAPPNOE-OUT62JAI2B_DjOqEx7_f-5qPc6TE_/w320-h262/alone-1869997_1280.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">why and on what we meditate.</span></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span><br /></span></span></p><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span><br /></span></span></p><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span><br /></span></span></p><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span><br /></span></span></p><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span><br /></span></span></p><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span><br /></span></span></p><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span><br /></span></span></p><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span><br /></span></span></p><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span><br /></span></span></p><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span><br /></span></span></p><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span><br /></span></span></p><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span><br /></span></span></p><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span>I looked up Bible passages that instruct as to </span><i><span>why</span></i><span> we should meditate as well as on </span><i><span>what</span> </i><span>we should meditate. Here are just a few of the many:</span></span></p><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 16px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><b><span style="font-size: large;">Why</span></b></p><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 16px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b></b><br /></span></p><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Blessed is the man who walks not in the counsel of the wicked, nor stands in the way of sinners, nor sits in the seat of the scoffers; but his delight is in the law of the Lord, and on his law he meditates day and night. He is like a tree planted by streams of water that yields its fruit in its season, and its leaf does not wither. In all that he does, he prospers.” Psalm 1:1-3</span></p><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 16px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">“You keep him in perfect peace whose mind is stayed on you, because he trusts in you.” Isaiah 26:3</span></p><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 16px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">“I have stored up your word in my heart, that I might not sin against you.” Psalm 119:11</span></p><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 16px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><b><span style="font-size: large;"> On What</span></b></p><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 16px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">“I will ponder all your work, and mediate on your mighty deeds.” Psalm 77:12</span></p><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 16px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Set your minds on things above, not on earthly things.” Colossians 3:2</span></p><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 16px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence, if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things.” Philippians 4:8</span></p><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 16px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 16px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span>I’ll keep you posted on my journey. </span><i><span>Perfect</span></i><span> meditation is not my goal, and I know it isn’t a requisite for abiding. I suspect meditation and abiding go hand-in-hand rather in chronological order. Maybe working on my meditation will enhance my abiding...and vice versa. And maybe I already have my word for next year!</span></span></p><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 16px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><br /></p>Dee Deehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05075414876444998775noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6229818391094949327.post-29480830497484175202023-10-29T14:43:00.001-07:002023-10-29T14:43:46.908-07:00Hooked<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span><div><span style="font-size: x-large;">I was blindsided. I was innocently minding my own business at a book promotion event, when I looked at the table next to me. The vendor was selling writing software. To gather attention and contacts, he was raffling off some amigurumi otters, the otter being the mascot for his company Plottr.</span></div><div><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: x-large;">If you’re wondering, amigurumi is the Japanese art of crocheting small, stuffed dolls and animals. I wasn’t the only person intrigued by those adorable crocheted critters. They attracted a steady stream of admirers. Neither was I the only one to try to buy one. But the only way to acquire an otter was through entering a raffle or purchasing the software.</span></div><div><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: x-large;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4mFIQtP_KdYbOrE_vsFRjjhWBtkjwTxf2YTk5sIWNQcgmfv3_T2MIwZ1AjccNhlOgkAAP-0B1WpcLVOlHWAoXb0lygvZTY_NoGTbWw-lN75emDc8U7gdyOywRPN-KxnZM-y9Kn9QBE7NsOowMNd85y3n4M4_kSsQfulpc7V7NHCNQloa46IEgO224itly/s1280/toys-2962776_1280.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="853" data-original-width="1280" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4mFIQtP_KdYbOrE_vsFRjjhWBtkjwTxf2YTk5sIWNQcgmfv3_T2MIwZ1AjccNhlOgkAAP-0B1WpcLVOlHWAoXb0lygvZTY_NoGTbWw-lN75emDc8U7gdyOywRPN-KxnZM-y9Kn9QBE7NsOowMNd85y3n4M4_kSsQfulpc7V7NHCNQloa46IEgO224itly/s320/toys-2962776_1280.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Some examples of amigurumi. You can see the appeal!</td></tr></tbody></table><br /></span><span style="font-size: x-large;">The wheels in my brain were spinning. I’m not above <strike>steal</strike> borrowing a smart marketing idea. The characters in my two children’s books would lend themselves perfectly to this craft. The only thing I had to figure out was how to acquire some amigurumi bearded dragons and frogs.</span></div><div><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div><div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjT5n218tKYniaXZ-zpTZOOtmqdT_h0mGr7zYcSTlhGSuDRpgcDfTHReMTfpn7HuXLDYGQExYmXCqB7J6GY5KXaBruPI-5MBGWDO9vcy3_E7Gp4xsRKOaYMCjtlVh3jRvoRyrc7mI2jn3DjJsAkQJ2qd-Xn1QobIt4B2urTRiFBXKmrylBIIRByvZV8lwuv/s2000/Blank%202000%20x%202000.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2000" data-original-width="2000" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjT5n218tKYniaXZ-zpTZOOtmqdT_h0mGr7zYcSTlhGSuDRpgcDfTHReMTfpn7HuXLDYGQExYmXCqB7J6GY5KXaBruPI-5MBGWDO9vcy3_E7Gp4xsRKOaYMCjtlVh3jRvoRyrc7mI2jn3DjJsAkQJ2qd-Xn1QobIt4B2urTRiFBXKmrylBIIRByvZV8lwuv/s320/Blank%202000%20x%202000.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Excellent candidates for amigurumi, right?</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: x-large;">This proved to be more difficult than I’d imagined. Purchasing them was possible (yes, there were even amigurumi bearded dragons), but out of my price range at approximately $30 a pop. After much deliberation, I decided I’d try to make them myself. Way back in the seventies, I’d had some experience with granny squares. How much harder could frogs and lizards be? At the advice of a crocheting friend, I scoured YouTube for instructions. </span></div><div><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: x-large;"> As it turns out, amigurumi is much tougher than crocheting granny squares. Just mastering the “magic circle”—the starting point for all amigurumi—is challenging. But many frustrating hours and failed attempts later, I got the hang of it. With a few bearded dragon and frog heads under my belt, I moved on to other creatures. </span></div><div><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div><div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGhyphenhyphenel8EhFgLOQTbPWyi6NOgkhJlVLA2POuZc_IYH7mQmcHU1VEAIYxb8Dv2MF3F6HZpPOCRht_YrrTHFFbk8bKqUM3Bs3ZXGnG4d2EFEnjBbb7-kzlid7YaA_p2qaHs0SZvnGyTaqE-oBUlf7DQrhQy1upw34O4UFHHXX-JZUbkVrizJJKWU6kqOrjVrp/s640/IMG_8274.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="242" data-original-width="640" height="121" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGhyphenhyphenel8EhFgLOQTbPWyi6NOgkhJlVLA2POuZc_IYH7mQmcHU1VEAIYxb8Dv2MF3F6HZpPOCRht_YrrTHFFbk8bKqUM3Bs3ZXGnG4d2EFEnjBbb7-kzlid7YaA_p2qaHs0SZvnGyTaqE-oBUlf7DQrhQy1upw34O4UFHHXX-JZUbkVrizJJKWU6kqOrjVrp/s320/IMG_8274.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Having mastered frog and lizard heads,<br /> I was ready to move on!</td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-size: xx-large;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: x-large;">There are so many options, and they are so cute! So far, I’ve created Halloween ghosts and rats and spiders. Thanksgiving pumpkins came next. I’ll soon be moving on to Christmas stars and snowflakes and Santa hats.</span></div><div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHZ0WBuPlCYlre9o2UZEJ4M7KHQNB2mxFkhgb1-jToKIdxJBM7uuyIUSCgAMpg2z0aJyDavhkdYlG2t7KlVI1kDNo4NpUPVhE-cQ7ZJUWVt1WQAZBgi3a8XvD37TCE41P9j8SzmZLvJIHVp0z2h99Sik4PgYgfVnbji5IxAgij8qIvOQS1D1tR8jJKqzhG/s640/IMG_8300.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHZ0WBuPlCYlre9o2UZEJ4M7KHQNB2mxFkhgb1-jToKIdxJBM7uuyIUSCgAMpg2z0aJyDavhkdYlG2t7KlVI1kDNo4NpUPVhE-cQ7ZJUWVt1WQAZBgi3a8XvD37TCE41P9j8SzmZLvJIHVp0z2h99Sik4PgYgfVnbji5IxAgij8qIvOQS1D1tR8jJKqzhG/s320/IMG_8300.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">From Halloween goblins to ...<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-size: xx-large;"><br /></span></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnJ0ihlrDwPIihTdfY70U2MaZvYP1wYzz4Bk3BnvjMDvsL2OffwcFNhlbJRvv12j43Ct-tHbBQjc802AjH8wCwDyhX9iCwWMar3SrUqRBUY0Kt6pizK8_KOirEbJfaeKGk79vwUARHnT5xQeRZo_wL9etdiw9KTiZERFN87e5W0X50OyadSTpqw52tLOEZ/s640/IMG_8305.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnJ0ihlrDwPIihTdfY70U2MaZvYP1wYzz4Bk3BnvjMDvsL2OffwcFNhlbJRvv12j43Ct-tHbBQjc802AjH8wCwDyhX9iCwWMar3SrUqRBUY0Kt6pizK8_KOirEbJfaeKGk79vwUARHnT5xQeRZo_wL9etdiw9KTiZERFN87e5W0X50OyadSTpqw52tLOEZ/w240-h239/IMG_8305.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Thanksgiving pumpkins</td></tr></tbody></table><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1p1w5LGBnQbc2jyc9NhEweii4oK6LJc3J8kqcWi_Kpv6lF4HfpLJJ-H5vc8YbqLifumanP61z-QPloBgiUPoQRWtp8KCXG2KABWIHZDWzTpz2d5KxQdA3XeqcRYKBw23nebQK4peDPWd4V6lj3mIaS4eq9QxU1ZymAohht-3QSOQLIQriSgXbBy0c1WDU/s320/IMG_8306.png" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="240" /></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">What's next? Santa Ron?</td></tr></tbody></table><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1p1w5LGBnQbc2jyc9NhEweii4oK6LJc3J8kqcWi_Kpv6lF4HfpLJJ-H5vc8YbqLifumanP61z-QPloBgiUPoQRWtp8KCXG2KABWIHZDWzTpz2d5KxQdA3XeqcRYKBw23nebQK4peDPWd4V6lj3mIaS4eq9QxU1ZymAohht-3QSOQLIQriSgXbBy0c1WDU/s640/IMG_8306.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><span> <span> <span> <span> <span> <span> <span> <span> <span> <span> <span> <span> <span> <span> </span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></a></div><div><br /></div><div><span style="font-size: x-large;">No one warned me this was going to be habit forming. I’m becoming like those gardeners who chase down neighbors, friends, and people who have the misfortune of crossing their paths to give them zucchini. People see me coming with my crocheted offerings and refuse to answer their doorbells. You’ve probably seen those Facebook memes of crocheted car seat covers and crocheted men’s suits. I used to laugh at those; now I realize they are signs of a sickness. </span></div><div><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div><div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfZx0L9G9rR5d8fpWey1Xsd6Kcrj1updFOoWJ-mTLUj2s_hf7kHFlXYjeYEs1aUetRMHP9JzWdi4Iha8bxLz7Am8283dxFd4bWFytv5e3hPsO_wDd-APUznKY8tEFv886hgiP0q2eywB-LZJdIsMRbMoxtvxpazQqhjG_e9_zJppYYNx9arMrj-INaNzQX/s496/crocheted%20car%20cover.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="423" data-original-width="496" height="273" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfZx0L9G9rR5d8fpWey1Xsd6Kcrj1updFOoWJ-mTLUj2s_hf7kHFlXYjeYEs1aUetRMHP9JzWdi4Iha8bxLz7Am8283dxFd4bWFytv5e3hPsO_wDd-APUznKY8tEFv886hgiP0q2eywB-LZJdIsMRbMoxtvxpazQqhjG_e9_zJppYYNx9arMrj-INaNzQX/s320/crocheted%20car%20cover.png" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I no longer laugh at Facebook posts like these.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: x-large;">Dust is gathering on every flat surface in my house; dishes are piling up in the sink; laundry baskets are spilling over. But the crochet hook is flying. In fact, the other day I could swear I smelled smoke. Does anyone know where I can purchase fireproof yarn?</span></div><div><span style="font-size: xx-large;"><br /></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-XvPaiiTZpriJtjAXFoNJ6UpDYTTiDs3UaOyCQ-kfKOfhFQNgDnOACapt8UKbJAToYRE3B9chSycl154p2wtSXl-VzeRlQfaKAGn4G5ukJC-osI5mIJo2fZH5Gk7tm3_oLN2-ieSvU7jsr0IMaE0bB0aQ5Ee_44lM0-XQd9v__2hbRaBQIOXstyLSRCXl/s1280/crochet-450724_1280.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="1280" height="199" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-XvPaiiTZpriJtjAXFoNJ6UpDYTTiDs3UaOyCQ-kfKOfhFQNgDnOACapt8UKbJAToYRE3B9chSycl154p2wtSXl-VzeRlQfaKAGn4G5ukJC-osI5mIJo2fZH5Gk7tm3_oLN2-ieSvU7jsr0IMaE0bB0aQ5Ee_44lM0-XQd9v__2hbRaBQIOXstyLSRCXl/w320-h199/crochet-450724_1280.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: xx-large;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><br />Dee Deehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05075414876444998775noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6229818391094949327.post-52667933183503909822023-09-12T17:02:00.000-07:002023-09-12T17:02:51.717-07:00The Goodness of Gray-ness<p style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">When I made the decision to quit coloring my gray hair back in my fifties, I thought I was on the cutting (or coloring) edge. But funny thing, once my hair was grown out to its full, natural gray, I looked around and discovered I wasn’t quite the rebel I thought I was.</span></p><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Maybe I found myself in a lot of good company because at the time I decided to embrace the gray, other baby boomer women were also maturing, at least as far as hair follicles are concerned. There were a lot of us, and our number was rapidly increasing.</span></p><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">For this large demographic group, I think part of the decision to go gray was because this generation of women was the first to liberate itself in so many ways. Remember bra-burning and birth control pills? No strangers to freedom, this aging population was now ready to embrace freedom from the time- and money-draining drudgery of hair-coloring.</span></p><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span><span style="font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: x-large;">Whatever their reason for doing so, women who embraced their “natural frost,” suddenly started standing out to me. Whenever we passed in public, I felt compelled to give them some kind of secret sign, acknowledging our camaraderie. After all, we were part of a sisterhood that knew the goodness of going gray. </span></span></p><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Occasionally I consider reverting to my darker hair color. These moments of weakness occur mainly when I see myself in photos, where basically all I see is my “glowing” hair. I guess I could claim that glow was my halo, but I doubt I could get away with that. Those reconsiderations are rare and fleeting, however. When I really think about it, a good picture isn’t worth all the time, expense, and hassle of a dye job. </span></p><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">I’m further encouraged to stay gray when I observe the beautiful women who have made the same choice. In my exercise classes, I often look around and admire the “fifty shades” of gray appearing there—shades ranging from platinum to salt-and-pepper to steely silver. With a good cut and quality hair-care products, gray can be every bit as lovely as blond, brunette, auburn, purple, pink … In my humble opinion, any color that is shiny, healthy, and well-maintained can be an asset to a woman’s appearance. </span></p><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigLHHWL_-3y9rEM8ObdDH61vWWi0vZnKSSxwWUj3dWgnAK_M2KCggeCAZ4fG59Efxwl09ZWzZbzVqNGo3dteysj8dA-hlkF8fd8cz59e0iLaY9Kof4Zbw1Ofv4YRj4xiB165CcSh3R3OmIuey07i3mSYQb_XTyVcAK8cnlwCLe4D4yG7j3JaKE57lPaaB2/s640/shades%20of%20gray%209:23%20jpg.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="405" data-original-width="640" height="203" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigLHHWL_-3y9rEM8ObdDH61vWWi0vZnKSSxwWUj3dWgnAK_M2KCggeCAZ4fG59Efxwl09ZWzZbzVqNGo3dteysj8dA-hlkF8fd8cz59e0iLaY9Kof4Zbw1Ofv4YRj4xiB165CcSh3R3OmIuey07i3mSYQb_XTyVcAK8cnlwCLe4D4yG7j3JaKE57lPaaB2/s320/shades%20of%20gray%209:23%20jpg.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Three of the many beautiful shades of <br />gray in my exercise class.</span></td></tr></tbody></table></p><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">These days, the over-fifty, sixty, seventy? woman who decides to go gray doesn’t have to resort to the short, permed, blue-tinted hairstyle of her grandmother. Wearing her "crown" of silver, she can hold her head high and know that she is in the company of many very regal—and liberated—women.</span></p><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><br /></p>Dee Deehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05075414876444998775noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6229818391094949327.post-58361621494736420212023-08-03T13:51:00.018-07:002023-08-04T08:16:08.030-07:00This One's for the Girls--Barbie and Lucinda (Who the heck is Lucinda?!)<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: times; font-size: x-large; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirp-QSTEMTjNKxCmW7rw30A7A3_NJhflHkukDBbRnWGnWLt-bDNvJ9bDow7S_EJ671RW9ekIDJZGCkk_NFxhHldXdPN4-tGwtAucGf4xBERC7HelT8-v76F7d4QHDaRF0LSfHGwu6nETW3X7yNx-8rVl-5-ME-oJY-kXJSm0I-JlkC0l5e4JNoCTQwdfY2/s300/8.08-Vintage-Barbie-1%5B1%5D.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="173" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirp-QSTEMTjNKxCmW7rw30A7A3_NJhflHkukDBbRnWGnWLt-bDNvJ9bDow7S_EJ671RW9ekIDJZGCkk_NFxhHldXdPN4-tGwtAucGf4xBERC7HelT8-v76F7d4QHDaRF0LSfHGwu6nETW3X7yNx-8rVl-5-ME-oJY-kXJSm0I-JlkC0l5e4JNoCTQwdfY2/s1600/8.08-Vintage-Barbie-1%5B1%5D.jpg" width="173" /></a></div><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">I accepted my daughter’s analysis that I wasn’t the target audience for the</span><span style="font-size: x-large;"><i> Barbie </i>movie</span><i> </i></span><span style="font-family: times; font-size: x-large;">and decided not to contribute to the film’s box-office, mega-dollars success. My disappointment over not seeing the movie was minimal. I’d owned the <a href="http://www.deedeechumley.com/2014/11/role-model-barbie.html">original Barbie</a> in her iconic, black-and-white-swimsuit days and admittedly was smitten by her glamorous appearance and luxurious, bespoke wardrobe. But by the time Barbie got all <span style="background-color: white;">pink-y</span> and started acquiring houses and cars and yachts, I’d outgrown my Barbie phase (which is a good thing because I never could've afforded to keep Barbie in the lavish lifestyle she'd come to expect).</span><p></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: x-large;">But then America Ferrera’s monologue and all the brouhaha it instigated—both pro and con—started showing up on social media. I tried to practice restraint and refrain from weighing in, but as I recently read in a book, what good is it to practice restraint when no one knows you’re practicing it? Off to the<i> Barbie </i>movie I went so that I could be an “informed” participant in the imbroglio.</span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: x-large;">From the moment I entered the theater lobby, it became apparent my daughter’s analysis was spot on: I was <i>not</i> the target audience. I felt no urge to don a sparkly pink hat or drape a pink feather boa around my neck and pose for a picture in front of a giant pink Barbie poster. (Although now I wish I had. Would've made a great photo for this post, and pink is a very good color for me.) Furthermore, if forced to sum up the movie, my response would be “hot mess.” </span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: x-large;">I could <i>sort of </i>follow the plot and grasp the themes, but I caught very few of the movie’s nuances, innuendoes, allusions. I thought the music and dancing were . . . <i>meh. </i>There is no arguing that Margot Robbie is beautiful, but the clothing styles, while “cute,” were nothing to excite my “mature” fashion taste. I’m not suggesting these are shortcomings on the movie-makers’ part. Like I said, I wasn’t the target audience. </span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: x-large;">Regarding Ferrera’s monologue (I know I’m treading on thin ice here), to me it came across as a bit of a whine. I think a lot of the negative responses sound whiny as well. A few days ago my friend Martha re-posted from Journey of a Mountain Woman Facebook Page which tells of the hardships of previous generations of women. The post reminded me of a poem I taught years ago in American literature about a pioneer woman named <a href="https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/45935/lucinda-matlock">Lucinda Matlock.</a> From the grave she told of a life filled with hard work, joys, and heartaches—among the heartaches, burying eight of her twelve children. I’ve linked to the entire poem, but am quoting the final lines here:</span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: x-large;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>What is this I hear of sorrow and weariness?</span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: x-large;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Anger, discontent and drooping hopes?</span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: x-large;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Degenerate sons and daughters,</span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: x-large;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Life is too strong for you—</span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: x-large;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>It takes life to love Life.</span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: x-large;">This leads to my one, clear take-away from the<i> Barbie </i>movie<i>--</i>a good and important one. Barbie ultimately chooses the “real” world over her perfect but artificial Barbie-land existence, reminding me of yet another favorite literary passage. In <i>The Velveteen Rabbit, </i>The Skin Horse is explaining to the Rabbit what it means to be Real. “It doesn’t happen all at once,” said the Skin Horse. “You become. It takes a long time. That’s why it doesn’t often happen to people who break easily, or have sharp edges, or have to be carefully kept . . . once you are Real you can’t be ugly, except to people who don’t understand.” </span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: x-large;">Even with its messiness, inequities, and imperfect humans, Barbie deems life in the real world worth the pain and frustration. And just like Lucinda and the Skin Horse, she realizes she will have to be strong and resilient to handle its challenges. That’s a theme this non-targeted, septuagenarian viewer can get on board with.</span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: x-large;">As luck would have it, right in the middle of all my <i>Barbie-</i>movie reflecting, the instructor played this song in my exercise class. (Note: I work out to be healthy, not skinny. <span style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">😉</span>) Hope it imparts a positive message for every <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oTowId2CWHA">woman! </a></span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><br /></p>Dee Deehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05075414876444998775noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6229818391094949327.post-4037003882477079952023-06-21T16:11:00.000-07:002023-06-21T16:11:01.265-07:00The Goodness of Good Neighbors . . . and Chainsaws<p style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">A few nights ago in Oklahoma, the wind did not come “sweeping down the plain.” Instead, it came ripping and snorting with the fury of a rodeo bull charging from the gate. I’m no stranger to strong winds. I’ve experienced hurricane- and tornado-force winds, so Mother Nature doesn’t easily scare me (except for snakes and bears). But I’ve never heard wind howl as loud as it did that night, and although I wasn’t exactly panicking, I was working myself into . . . let’s just say an elevated state of concern. </span></p><div><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">Around 1 AM, my husband Bill informed me the tree that used to be </span><i style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">beside</i><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"> our driveway was now </span><i style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">in</i><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"> our driveway. (Oh, the difference a tiny preposition makes!) But hearing the wind settling down and being fairly certain no other trees would be crashing to the ground, I fell asleep. Around 7 AM, I got up and went outside to inspect the damage.</span></span></p><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">As it turns out, the tree had landed partially in the driveway and partially on our roof. Moving it and freeing our cars from the garage was going to be no small job. The thirty-year-old Bradford pear had towered approximately thirty feet tall, and if you’ve ever dealt with a fallen tree, you know the space it occupies when standing exponentially increases when it hits the ground. I estimated it would take at least a couple of days—depending on how soon we could get someone to do the work—and anywhere from hundreds to thousands of dollars to make our driveway passable.</span></p><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Times New Roman"; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6bK_qy-vsCFiUJ-Q2Vb1LVgNIfyjH8G_zg1t9r_51nBpOkGkWwjZi-WpPTEkbZRnPYE93PyzBHKjLTUPpdnJVS-dj_D9fhJkaQQeF9yrKpO2RLNhBIBW1CDw6bGCQLnWaSSO4jwotq9Fw2Qe6fbAmxy7rg3hydraoyKqygHscMSDyrsKKNkZflaK0Ez1d/s509/IMG_8015.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="504" data-original-width="509" height="317" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6bK_qy-vsCFiUJ-Q2Vb1LVgNIfyjH8G_zg1t9r_51nBpOkGkWwjZi-WpPTEkbZRnPYE93PyzBHKjLTUPpdnJVS-dj_D9fhJkaQQeF9yrKpO2RLNhBIBW1CDw6bGCQLnWaSSO4jwotq9Fw2Qe6fbAmxy7rg3hydraoyKqygHscMSDyrsKKNkZflaK0Ez1d/s320/IMG_8015.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></div><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span><span style="font-family: times;">I went inside to get some coffee and change into work clothes. By the time I got back outside, neighbors from two different families had joined Bill and were hard at work. Armed with clippers, pruners, handsaws, and a hand-sized chainsaw, parents and kids were all excitedly sawing, clipping, and dragging limbs into a pile. Our next-door neighbor climbed onto the roof to wrap a rope around the branch that rested there. Cheers broke out when the huge branch eventually fell to the ground.</span></span><p></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Times New Roman"; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgta-kfEtw90uMihxAhZGJdzvSZJtUIGR_1FnptcQJnvTtC4XJmIaR4UHz-Z7lKIQfOgFdHOuuzdvs76rVD6lZ7-UAJ2A7kLm0KwXekAQH62qdjXUHRiVTplnkjV506t_lL1XOQl9UfvMY9HnZz9pp6QVMv3VEUJDQX3F79bLoknE6cGI8XuOeD_4Nmwmqz/s640/IMG_8019.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgta-kfEtw90uMihxAhZGJdzvSZJtUIGR_1FnptcQJnvTtC4XJmIaR4UHz-Z7lKIQfOgFdHOuuzdvs76rVD6lZ7-UAJ2A7kLm0KwXekAQH62qdjXUHRiVTplnkjV506t_lL1XOQl9UfvMY9HnZz9pp6QVMv3VEUJDQX3F79bLoknE6cGI8XuOeD_4Nmwmqz/s320/IMG_8019.jpg" width="240" /></span></a></div><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: x-large;">It soon became apparent that in order to make further progress, we would have to call for reinforcement. Our neighbor from the opposite end of the street answered the call, arriving on the scene with his seven-year-old son and a heavy-duty chainsaw in tow. Now things were really buzzing. (Sorry, couldn’t resist.) We were beginning to attract a small audience because what better entertainment than men with chainsaws and axes? After wielders of chainsaws and axes had done their work, everyone—moms, dads, sisters, brothers—loaded the heavier pieces of wood into a pickup and toted them away. In a matter of a few hours, our driveway was cleared and our cars liberated.</span><p></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: x-large;"> </span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Times New Roman"; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimlUf9n68h06Asufm2DNDb1deG2y_8yq2ybXi6b9uK84wMRUaam765IGYhlKoiQsdYAYvragFNafpSn6oF3zu-2je-mCTGQaXaO9poPEKNJgUA2rcg9OPssTeg5js2R7s85qtW3bFiQPUrvB8fDtJt4UVjAaiDIEttV6RpET-mXhPMssKDrlZyNoPa0jC-/s474/IMG_8022.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="436" data-original-width="474" height="294" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimlUf9n68h06Asufm2DNDb1deG2y_8yq2ybXi6b9uK84wMRUaam765IGYhlKoiQsdYAYvragFNafpSn6oF3zu-2je-mCTGQaXaO9poPEKNJgUA2rcg9OPssTeg5js2R7s85qtW3bFiQPUrvB8fDtJt4UVjAaiDIEttV6RpET-mXhPMssKDrlZyNoPa0jC-/s320/IMG_8022.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></div><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Times New Roman"; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMR1Wak5b92RI52iy-TN2aK8-7KXyYNZKh5Z2on3NP2l0Rh7u5FAywFH0O2cr-fsZXijy2OhbSnlGpTWDcAZmN3imDd5hNfL3GmvOOWTDa2Tqa9FlAsRlwzaGJXip9xOaLKPI-6s1_C_DVdpjwXVgsmTfcuzRcIFamDV7IT5R_1Lgbjo1maOLBLYLJom2i/s478/IMG_8023.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="381" data-original-width="478" height="255" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMR1Wak5b92RI52iy-TN2aK8-7KXyYNZKh5Z2on3NP2l0Rh7u5FAywFH0O2cr-fsZXijy2OhbSnlGpTWDcAZmN3imDd5hNfL3GmvOOWTDa2Tqa9FlAsRlwzaGJXip9xOaLKPI-6s1_C_DVdpjwXVgsmTfcuzRcIFamDV7IT5R_1Lgbjo1maOLBLYLJom2i/s320/IMG_8023.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Times New Roman"; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Times New Roman"; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6X6e5LL0YT9vtNIyOKfYNy77WwKwWqqw4dKbTOhbqSdKsaRtvHSj-mgRVlzOl-GdiDbg3htf5ykpGzzsWqcf2v8brDqLYCoZ3xIeoSZlT3ybzEnePOVTZs28buHZBe7QP6bfk2r65zm9mOcNFmT8l-blA0QJntze15zszQpE03_mz2bqknplp-U3OhA7n/s640/IMG_8028.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6X6e5LL0YT9vtNIyOKfYNy77WwKwWqqw4dKbTOhbqSdKsaRtvHSj-mgRVlzOl-GdiDbg3htf5ykpGzzsWqcf2v8brDqLYCoZ3xIeoSZlT3ybzEnePOVTZs28buHZBe7QP6bfk2r65zm9mOcNFmT8l-blA0QJntze15zszQpE03_mz2bqknplp-U3OhA7n/s320/IMG_8028.jpg" width="240" /></span></a></div><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Times New Roman"; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">This entire account just oozes with goodness. In times when media in any form would have us believe people's favorite pastime is fighting, this was a prime example of people coming together to help. No bickering, no thoughts of political or religious differences. Just good-hearted people happy to help out a neighbor with a difficult task.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"> </span></span><p></p><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: x-large;">But here’s the real goodness. This incident took place on a Sunday morning that also happened to be Father’s Day. I know these families normally attend church on Sunday mornings, but this Sunday they had taken time to put their faith into action. I couldn’t help thinking the entire time we were working how these dads—and moms—were teaching their children by example the joy that comes from helping a friend. And I know for a fact this wasn’t the first time those children had witnessed that lesson. </span></p><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><br /></p>Dee Deehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05075414876444998775noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6229818391094949327.post-16093901510884466852023-05-16T14:19:00.000-07:002023-05-16T14:19:21.231-07:00The Goodness of Medical Maintenance<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: x-large;"><span style="text-align: left;">The first half of 2023 (is it possible it’s almost half over?!) has played out pretty much as I expected—devoted to maintenance. Not house or car maintenance, but body maintenance. The sad truth is that no matter how much we exercise and eat healthy, old bad habits take their toll and body parts wear out.</span><span style="text-align: left;"> </span></span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRhPvNVArOm8RhA6fN5JWhuSg0f88uiE-8iYXdYFhwUCmoIVIOsn19xinPvAqdhCzZwleMuqigIqtdt7F9sEubQYx72DnUvcC90ZTuZFT4lNWc9gvq48CpM2sbrR3qYUqHG2eBwL23Ca-DY-Ay7VPQR_UD_Ia56fP8Bu7ZbMs3v68nNzua1gr7SfM39w/s639/suture-6934998_1280.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: x-large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="639" data-original-width="629" height="250" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRhPvNVArOm8RhA6fN5JWhuSg0f88uiE-8iYXdYFhwUCmoIVIOsn19xinPvAqdhCzZwleMuqigIqtdt7F9sEubQYx72DnUvcC90ZTuZFT4lNWc9gvq48CpM2sbrR3qYUqHG2eBwL23Ca-DY-Ay7VPQR_UD_Ia56fP8Bu7ZbMs3v68nNzua1gr7SfM39w/w120-h250/suture-6934998_1280.jpg" width="120" /></span></a></div><span style="font-family: times; font-size: x-large;">January began with a small surgical procedure—MOHS—to remove some cancer cells on my back. It was followed in March by one performed on my leg. Such is the payback for many carefree and clueless days spent in the sun before SPF became a thing.</span><p></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: x-large;">Maintenance continued last week with cataract surgery on my right eye, followed this week with surgery on the left eye. </span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: x-large;"> </span><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1yHlqjDouzTihKyE5uoMuTjOaisl47cGIkMLb_g0p0hQM9hYzy77vcgM1bYp95IBUC9BGeDD6zmHSjnSA7cP5BnuYx23NfCirmjOVQg5o37gAYUV7MwJI1Y0affx40RIj4TkejfU2I08CohifY7qrcR1UBDRkTjQoBr63Fsu9ULybU3os5Zefg_gJXg/s1920/eye-laser-surgery-5016073_1920.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: x-large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1563" data-original-width="1920" height="163" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1yHlqjDouzTihKyE5uoMuTjOaisl47cGIkMLb_g0p0hQM9hYzy77vcgM1bYp95IBUC9BGeDD6zmHSjnSA7cP5BnuYx23NfCirmjOVQg5o37gAYUV7MwJI1Y0affx40RIj4TkejfU2I08CohifY7qrcR1UBDRkTjQoBr63Fsu9ULybU3os5Zefg_gJXg/w200-h163/eye-laser-surgery-5016073_1920.jpg" width="200" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: x-large;">(I'm not the model in this photo!)</span></td></tr></tbody></table></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: x-large;"> </span></div><p></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: x-large;">Am I complaining about all the maintenance growing older requires? Most definitely not. On the contrary, the surgical procedures that I have undergone these past few months remind me even more of God’s goodness. </span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: x-large;">Miracles of modern-day maintenance abound. How is it that a surgeon can cut through layers of skin, remove a clump of cells-gone-rogue, sew the incision back up, and send the patient on their way in a matter of hours? How amazing are the tools and skills that allow an eye surgeon to poke a beam of light into the eyeball—yikes!—and replace a cloudy, worn-out lens with a shiny, new artificial one. Once again, in just a few hours.</span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: x-large;">The icing on the cake is that these maintenance procedures are performed with minimal pain to the patient. In the case of the skin cancer, I felt nothing more than a tiny, initial prick. Afterwards, pain was nonexistent. Didn’t even need a Tylenol. Ditto with the cataract surgery. A mild valium relieved any pre-surgery anxiety, and local anesthesia—while keeping me slightly aware during the procedure—ensured nothing about it hurt. And afterwards? Once again, no pain.</span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: x-large;">For me, recovery after all the surgeries was nothing more than an inconvenience. Had my daily exercise routine—also a part of maintenance—not been limited by the doctors’ instructions, I would’ve resumed it within a matter of days instead of weeks. Such quick recovery boggles the imagination . . . or at least it boggles mine.</span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: x-large;">Each time I underwent a maintenance procedure, I couldn’t help thinking about previous generations. I thought of how they had to live with fading sight or had their lives cut short by cancers that today can be eliminated. I also thought about how much suffering was endured in those cases where surgery <i>was</i> available. </span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: x-large;">I understand that growing older can be more challenging for some than for others. Every body behaves differently, and not every malady can be solved with quick surgery and minimum pain and recovery time. But with many of the health issues associated with aging, the strides made in medical care are nothing short of miraculous—evidence of God’s goodness. I’m truly thankful to be living in a time when scores of dedicated healthcare professionals have made my maintenance journey much more pleasant than it would’ve been even a generation ago. </span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: x-large;">NOTE:</span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: x-large;">Concerning the results of my cataract surgery, the news is both bad and good.</span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: x-large;">The bad news: With my newly restored vision, I’ve discovered I have a lot more wrinkles than previously thought.</span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: x-large;">The good news: So does everyone else! </span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><br /></p>Dee Deehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05075414876444998775noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6229818391094949327.post-5140522155842725622023-03-23T12:43:00.001-07:002023-03-23T12:47:38.866-07:00Searching for the Goodness in Goodbye<p style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Times New Roman"; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiitavU3VEdjXVm0Jv2o_YCaotvweA5t8QFN9zsOLYxPDNkMx5HBlHmeKHq5KuOD5fAhs1Xj_VCqW-K2qAVnz9W0gF5YNnh9XrARcFyJynGoI84NJbmjIE0bwZEnEUku35hpZQFl9wGijySm0t0d2o4cu3BmLEAXyNlihqlQN7nFpGdyEClRiX5p1aORw/s1920/mural-g5390c2665_1920.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1920" data-original-width="1440" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiitavU3VEdjXVm0Jv2o_YCaotvweA5t8QFN9zsOLYxPDNkMx5HBlHmeKHq5KuOD5fAhs1Xj_VCqW-K2qAVnz9W0gF5YNnh9XrARcFyJynGoI84NJbmjIE0bwZEnEUku35hpZQFl9wGijySm0t0d2o4cu3BmLEAXyNlihqlQN7nFpGdyEClRiX5p1aORw/s320/mural-g5390c2665_1920.jpg" width="240" /></a></span></div><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">In a Mennonite community in Bolivia in 2009, women--young and old, married and single--divulged that they had been victims of sexual crimes, perpetrated over years. The accused men were brought to trial, but whether justice was or ever will be achieved is still up for question. </span></span><div><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><i>Women Talking</i> is a powerful novel--and now movie-- inspired by this event. While the fictional account of what ensues after the crimes are discovered differs from the actual one, the book reveals truths and raises probing questions in ways that only fiction can. </span></span></div><div><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">In the novel, several women gather secretly in a barn to determine their reaction to an unspeakable crime from which they and their daughters will never fully recover. Their debate to leave or stay presents difficult and heart-wrenching considerations. Staying could enable further abuse. It could keep them tied to a life where they forever will be considered lesser beings, deprived of education and the opportunity to "think." On the other hand, l</span></span><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">eaving will present serious risks to their physical survival. It will involve abandoning sons, husbands, fathers . . . . It will isolate them from the only life they have ever known. For this conservative, religious group, it even raises questions concerning their eternal existence.</span><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></span></div><div><span style="font-family: times; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Among the <i>many</i> issues this book had me contemplating, the act of leaving and all that it entails resonated most with me. A conclusion I arrived at is that</span><span><i> </i><span style="font-size: x-large;">leaving is hard.</span></span></p><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">Even when leaving is necessary and comes as a relief, pain is often involved. For the women in this book, the status quo had turned ugly and threatening for them and their children. Still, leaving would present formidable obstacles and overwhelming uncertainties. It also would require making agonizing decisions about family and faith. </span></span></p><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Likewise, partings that are rife with hope and possibility—such as a young person leaving home to attend college or pursue a career—can carry with them the angst of leaving behind family, friends, and all that is familiar and comfortable. </span></p><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><i>Women Talking </i>was a timely read for me. For many years I have been a United Methodist, and now United Methodists around the globe find themselves facing the decision to part. Some see this as a clear-cut and necessary decision, albeit not any easy one. For others, it raises questions about the best way to practice their faith. In both situations, it carries uncertainties and the hurt of saying goodbye to people cared about and worshiped with for years.</span></p><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">But parting is nothing new in the Christian faith. Indeed, Christianity seems to be one long narrative of partings and goodbyes--from those commanded by God to those brought about by humankind's own lack of obedience. While some might see this as evidence of an uncaring God, I see it as a testament to his goodness. Whether we humans are following God's commands or are suffering the consequences of our own disobedience, God continues to accompany us on our journeys, both real and metaphorical, and finds ways to use them for good. We are told in Romans 8:28 “And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose.”</span></p><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">As Christians, we trust God's goodness will prevail even in our hard goodbyes.</span></p><div><br /></div></div>Dee Deehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05075414876444998775noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6229818391094949327.post-71904484887367617092023-03-02T15:20:00.003-08:002023-03-02T15:22:26.854-08:00New Tricks are Getting Trickier<p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: x-large;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: x-large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLJA6VyY0VWsDdciYD39uOjuvPFq-6YKpeIFPabDXVKhbOgGvV-QLrQEDeRViJV81eHR04oUl2p-pwA_cpZlvTiANbr8VmlTEu-TStlryy-DzJ7vRnQD-PFsQMCoiTl0oQtWRLUxJOINmwM3XcmoB0wVYcLAuDfdOwrlq0_JY0mHqKY3K8YupuuhyOJA/s1920/calendar-g91dc41d82_1920.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1720" data-original-width="1920" height="287" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLJA6VyY0VWsDdciYD39uOjuvPFq-6YKpeIFPabDXVKhbOgGvV-QLrQEDeRViJV81eHR04oUl2p-pwA_cpZlvTiANbr8VmlTEu-TStlryy-DzJ7vRnQD-PFsQMCoiTl0oQtWRLUxJOINmwM3XcmoB0wVYcLAuDfdOwrlq0_JY0mHqKY3K8YupuuhyOJA/s320/calendar-g91dc41d82_1920.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: times; font-size: x-large;"><br />In January I declared my word for 2023 to be "goodness," and so far this year, I have had many opportunities to be made aware of how God's blessings abound. </span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: x-large;">While many people consider February to be their least favorite month, I've always been a bit partial to it, not least because it's when my birthday occurs. While some folks might not look forward to another birthday, I'm long past that nonsense. These days I view birthdays as opportunities to celebrate another year of living--an opportunity not granted to all.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: x-large;">Some of the "goodness" I celebrated in February 2023:</span></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: x-large;"><b>An opportunity to gather with family. </b>My sister, brother, and I are scattered across the U.S., but in February we managed to gather in San Antonio for a fun reunion. And it just happened to fall on my birthday!</span> </p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: x-large;"><b>Celebrating my birthday with friends</b>. When I joined an exercise class eight years ago, I had no idea what a blessing these ladies would become.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaDSRlObLvtsxpY_55ikusl1p9UEA-EJK5jNdgEZ36gZ1Wxsuef5AWldql7xyIsgGrcJzpRjJmbWkJHXBhyUOICqQcUMkX-Y9VIPEk6ZAV6pinNH91F_knO6kdJP25JuwOE2HpKDHnoSimjiOLvQgzPVUbx-d_o50v8xP7DlXTGBP5ZCTchIL7wKssCw/s640/IMG_7587.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaDSRlObLvtsxpY_55ikusl1p9UEA-EJK5jNdgEZ36gZ1Wxsuef5AWldql7xyIsgGrcJzpRjJmbWkJHXBhyUOICqQcUMkX-Y9VIPEk6ZAV6pinNH91F_knO6kdJP25JuwOE2HpKDHnoSimjiOLvQgzPVUbx-d_o50v8xP7DlXTGBP5ZCTchIL7wKssCw/s320/IMG_7587.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><b>Celebrating Sydney's graduation.</b> Residents who complete the program at Exodus House are such an inspiration!</span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9aKtYhepWWfT1ALxIA6Hf326JT_lsyLAaS5_ZNVNAOg28o9RJTDVGZWnQdC0UWZS-JTczufguPHYyE9mZ9I-BtnNZxzlpFHFJmn-uzKceX5kTPGZx3nk8S8q_1q89xLCu4Wc0EtJDbBj36W42PE3HPBlTO4F3QZrLGpFqAwtWiSPkTCWYpSP2sSq5rw/s640/IMG_7594.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9aKtYhepWWfT1ALxIA6Hf326JT_lsyLAaS5_ZNVNAOg28o9RJTDVGZWnQdC0UWZS-JTczufguPHYyE9mZ9I-BtnNZxzlpFHFJmn-uzKceX5kTPGZx3nk8S8q_1q89xLCu4Wc0EtJDbBj36W42PE3HPBlTO4F3QZrLGpFqAwtWiSPkTCWYpSP2sSq5rw/s320/IMG_7594.jpg" width="240" /></a></span></div><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /><p style="text-align: left;"><b style="font-family: times; text-align: left;">Birthday greetings from friends, valentine roses from my husband, and a beautiful valentine and little birdhouse from my sweet next-door neighbor, Eva. </b></p></span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: xx-large;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilhcLZCLjoOv_4ZQgUNZpW4zfW6V0_9P48a_oQhZcijmDGgnS0QtYsHJ3Ds4crLhj07paEHqdF80SGVfLAcVbXpqODwi_ZBtXI--GhT_NxPE9EZEsFQQ6djNcePq1wwdm9npU_angHrXMp7v4B1Qd_Er6Mgq-ukgUEQzDjCul00KBdzDGbnztZe0yvcA/s640/IMG_7599.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="571" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilhcLZCLjoOv_4ZQgUNZpW4zfW6V0_9P48a_oQhZcijmDGgnS0QtYsHJ3Ds4crLhj07paEHqdF80SGVfLAcVbXpqODwi_ZBtXI--GhT_NxPE9EZEsFQQ6djNcePq1wwdm9npU_angHrXMp7v4B1Qd_Er6Mgq-ukgUEQzDjCul00KBdzDGbnztZe0yvcA/s320/IMG_7599.jpg" width="286" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: x-large;"><b>Daffodils blooming by my front porch. </b>They remind me that spring is just around the corner!</span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-weight: bold; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-weight: bold; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: x-large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwakuigp1elxrRlffQzRDVsEAoouEJiidb7P1FWnfaWZ25y2X0ttCX-vXnZDa5Y8h4SdYuXKIosudFxIPCeEhQm_5FwlwPWWfIdRW8ZffMSxtA2rEUpH4U694rzrOgsAqjzxQLLsB44jv0i-5akeVYo2lxbxG_HWSe28ZF_mNgqQF5lqpGY-NotPAtHg/s640/IMG_7618.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwakuigp1elxrRlffQzRDVsEAoouEJiidb7P1FWnfaWZ25y2X0ttCX-vXnZDa5Y8h4SdYuXKIosudFxIPCeEhQm_5FwlwPWWfIdRW8ZffMSxtA2rEUpH4U694rzrOgsAqjzxQLLsB44jv0i-5akeVYo2lxbxG_HWSe28ZF_mNgqQF5lqpGY-NotPAtHg/s320/IMG_7618.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: times; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></p><p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdB5fPLuAxUkaCKUDFa16xFL3FOxlXm4ckQtKn1Xsr8QvVVpS_vpDOWsaQsA2a49MWXv0qx2ZpxCs5HA9-AjxJa7-ZmsnRgOBUjnCC961-CjDKNgGn_k37_TZym35T41OKZ6e5YNyJU7JHdldOwKUKrthBHga6NVv_ZsfsUvDdrpQwMCZf1Da6Zy8LTg/s640/Birthday%20trick%2073.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="591" data-original-width="640" height="296" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdB5fPLuAxUkaCKUDFa16xFL3FOxlXm4ckQtKn1Xsr8QvVVpS_vpDOWsaQsA2a49MWXv0qx2ZpxCs5HA9-AjxJa7-ZmsnRgOBUjnCC961-CjDKNgGn_k37_TZym35T41OKZ6e5YNyJU7JHdldOwKUKrthBHga6NVv_ZsfsUvDdrpQwMCZf1Da6Zy8LTg/s320/Birthday%20trick%2073.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My 2023 birthday picture</td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><p></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: x-large;"><span>Remember when we were kids and each year had a birthday picture made? Well, I began my seventh decade by posting a "birthday picture" of me doing a tricky yoga pose--tricky for me that is. God's goodness has allowed me to remain healthy over the past three years and continue with my exercising. However, I must admit </span><span>those tricks are getting </span><span>. . . well, trickier. While this pose may not look complicated, I promise it presents a challenge to 73-year-old knees. That might or might not be a grimace rather than a smile on my face. 😝</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: large;"><br /></span></p>Dee Deehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05075414876444998775noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6229818391094949327.post-29633012167488883112023-01-22T11:38:00.000-08:002023-01-22T11:38:25.626-08:00Looking Backward for Inspiration to Go Forward<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 14px;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6p0l-jeqb4Z0ROG5G2rKsXeYCg0LmPPdMNS1pFZ1KV9T6ep_Z3y1CXzYtGYfVygyY-EYellfY0o5vv65BR-bnGJtJWMJmK8RRGfZCZGXdmTivDTKH4qPntSdS4SESEq_ESs2AfkhtmyfGy3PEci5vV2yLlIOF3o_2417llxZgaBC2_QISEKgH3tqMSw/s1280/JANUARY%20calendar.png" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1234" data-original-width="1280" height="193" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6p0l-jeqb4Z0ROG5G2rKsXeYCg0LmPPdMNS1pFZ1KV9T6ep_Z3y1CXzYtGYfVygyY-EYellfY0o5vv65BR-bnGJtJWMJmK8RRGfZCZGXdmTivDTKH4qPntSdS4SESEq_ESs2AfkhtmyfGy3PEci5vV2yLlIOF3o_2417llxZgaBC2_QISEKgH3tqMSw/w200-h193/JANUARY%20calendar.png" width="200" /></a></div><span style="font-family: times; font-size: x-large;">Last year I shifted from my usual New Year’s tradition of choosing a word to choosing hymns or songs to focus on in the upcoming year. This year I’m returning to selecting a word. And just as the month of January serves as a connection between the past and the future, I chose a word from a song I discovered last year to inspire and sustain me throughout 2023. </span><p></p><p></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: x-large;">The song </span><span style="font-size: x-large;"><i style="font-family: times;">The Goodness of God</i><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: times; font-size: x-large;">was released in 2019, but I first heard it in the fall of 2022. I love its lyrics and melody. I often find myself humming it at those moments when I’m “surprised by joy”—those moments when something as simple as a cardinal alighting on my bird feeder </span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: large;"></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpM5BV7HWTGta4e0nahfR6VFXZkcLmcsbMpG0e-EAS0-B35bQwhQzq6SyaztKr9OjBwFF29-54fZ3c-A7JBR7jgeNr4tFwA6rXV9RdOH6JLzshCa5VqjGXn6P0_pWDQZeokTOAdBRAp5hatpNjrX_uRLg8T_sO3vOjI6xxGc0nLGFrhKYggx4xD4jrMg/s535/IMG_5312.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="461" data-original-width="535" height="173" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpM5BV7HWTGta4e0nahfR6VFXZkcLmcsbMpG0e-EAS0-B35bQwhQzq6SyaztKr9OjBwFF29-54fZ3c-A7JBR7jgeNr4tFwA6rXV9RdOH6JLzshCa5VqjGXn6P0_pWDQZeokTOAdBRAp5hatpNjrX_uRLg8T_sO3vOjI6xxGc0nLGFrhKYggx4xD4jrMg/w200-h173/IMG_5312.jpg" width="200" /></a></span></span></div><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkYCdECkvnuKxjOSzOWpRTCO_Qn5prQrz1tXQiWP39XGTqeTuE28zsuK72ocHVVoftC8AkUhPslwZd_qBm8MhdO9hM_3VpWlH0zMfZ0obmb3eIjav8ZUP9kGdz4FaynX53wvkDHd2SGKsvxk3_ofv4_CiIdPDt27aMwr41-Lt5anvrLV3vSYEuHXMQIQ/s640/Tenkiller.JPG" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkYCdECkvnuKxjOSzOWpRTCO_Qn5prQrz1tXQiWP39XGTqeTuE28zsuK72ocHVVoftC8AkUhPslwZd_qBm8MhdO9hM_3VpWlH0zMfZ0obmb3eIjav8ZUP9kGdz4FaynX53wvkDHd2SGKsvxk3_ofv4_CiIdPDt27aMwr41-Lt5anvrLV3vSYEuHXMQIQ/w200-h150/Tenkiller.JPG" width="200" /></a></div>or as spectacular as the sun setting in the Oklahoma sky fills me with delight and awe. </span></span><p></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></span><span style="font-family: times; font-size: x-large;">The song also comes to me at more somber times when I’m feeling frustrated or overwhelmed, reminding me that God is ever faithful and I have much to be thankful for.</span></p><p></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">And so the word I’ve chosen for 2023 is </span><i><span style="font-size: x-large;">goodness</span></i><span style="font-size: x-large;">. In times of happiness, contentment, or smooth-sailing as well as times of trial, disappointment, or bumpy seas, I want a word that challenges me to look for God’s endless, matchless, never-failing goodness in the midst of all situations. Want to join me in this delightful endeavor?</span></span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">There are many renditions of <i>The Goodness of God</i>. I hope you enjoy this one performed by <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-AwLTeMyq20">CeCe Winans. </a></span></span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 14px;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></span></p>Dee Deehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05075414876444998775noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6229818391094949327.post-17300645587087670592022-12-16T15:36:00.000-08:002022-12-16T15:36:38.046-08:00Christmas, A Time for Sharing<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: large;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidPyCOl-NzXhKMFc7rK2HPOxaAYAjrFHtqXcLPAArONQ508Agf8TNq0BxhxTVvlUSqK6363u9sg2B7xevmYYaNMOk6Bz4AikQkdhkbcVHZ9sDuckGY1Xo15dw-1N_7R47AKPBstkPITXH5sLtzXKdK4_lvmyiH-sHdXw2JJYWuujioyCwperFd8ehdVg/s1920/decoration-g3e11babea_1920.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1282" data-original-width="1920" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidPyCOl-NzXhKMFc7rK2HPOxaAYAjrFHtqXcLPAArONQ508Agf8TNq0BxhxTVvlUSqK6363u9sg2B7xevmYYaNMOk6Bz4AikQkdhkbcVHZ9sDuckGY1Xo15dw-1N_7R47AKPBstkPITXH5sLtzXKdK4_lvmyiH-sHdXw2JJYWuujioyCwperFd8ehdVg/s320/decoration-g3e11babea_1920.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: large;">Christmas decorating is done inside and out, and the shopping and baking are currently under control. Finally I have time to post on my long-neglected blog. </span><p></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: large;">For this post, I decided to do something I've never done in my blog--share a scene from one of my books. The idea came to me when I saw a Facebook post of people telling their favorite scenes from Christmas movies. In Christmases past, I've revealed my <a href="http://www.deedeechumley.com/2013/12/not-your-ordinary-christmas-tale.html">favorite Christmas story</a> to be <i>The Best Christmas Pageant Ever </i>by Barbara Robinson. The scene of little Imogene Herdman crying over the manger scene moves me to tears every time I read it. But while this remains my very favorite Christmas scene from a book, I still think mine from <i><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Some-Form-Grace-Dee-Chumley-ebook/dp/B076J9ZQ73/ref=sr_1_1?crid=1J801ZAJ097TQ&keywords=some+form+of+grace+chumley&qid=1671232298&sprefix=some+form+of+grace+chumley%2Caps%2C117&sr=8-1">Some Form of Grace </a></i>is pretty good. So, I thought, why not share it?</span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: large;">To "set up the scene," here is a brief explanation. Recently released from prison, Gracene, a resident at Transformation Place, is transitioning back into society. But she has a secret. Transformation Place is supposed to be for Christians, a concept Gracene is not too sold on. But she loves the people at Transformation Place, and they have provided her employment with a landscaper which she enjoys, and so she remains there. In late November, she and her foreman Tony are working on an off-season job putting up Christmas decorations.</span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></span></p><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“So how was your Thanksgiving?” Tony asked. </span></p><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>“Good,” I said and meant it.</span></p><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>On the mild Monday following Thanksgiving, me and Tony were putting up Christmas decorations in someone’s—a <i>rich</i> someone’s—yard. For the past two weeks we’d wrapped about a million lights around every twig of the bare trees. Now we were assembling a nativity scene. </span></p><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></b> “How about yours?” I asked. </span></p><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>“Good . . . good.” He patted his belly. “Ate too much.” </span></p><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>“I hear ya’.” </span></p><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span> We worked for a while on an angel choir. I held stakes while Tony pounded them into the ground, and then we attached ten-foot angels to them. </span></p><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>“I understand that they’ll have music playing as people drive by,” Tony said. <span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span></p><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>I stretched and massaged my aching back. “Seems to me if people wanted to spread the Christmas message they’d spend their money on food for the homeless or toys for kids rather than waste it on fancy decorations.”</span></p><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span> “Who knows? Maybe they do that, too.” Tony knelt and began assembling a manger. “As far as spreading the Christmas message, these folks have put up this nativity scene for the last five years. By Christmas Day, hundreds of people will have driven by it. Most of them will know the Christmas story, but not all. Maybe this display will start some conversations. Besides that—” he looked at me and winked—“if they didn’t pay to have these ‘fancy decorations’ put up, you and me might not be making extra cash.”</span></p><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>I didn’t want to admit he had a point. “Is it time for lunch?”</span></p><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>A breeze was picking up, so we sat in the cab of Tony’s truck and ate our sandwiches. We never talked much when we ate, but as I looked out the windshield at that half-finished nativity scene, I couldn’t keep quiet. </span></p><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>“You go to church, Tony?” </span></p><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>If he thought this question was strange, he didn’t show it. “Almost every Sunday.”</span></p><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>“Which one?”</span></p><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>“I’m Hispanic and have six kids. Which one do you think?”</span></p><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>I laughed. “Your kids excited about the holidays?”</span></p><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>“Oh, yeah.” He sipped from his thermos. “I try to keep the focus on the true meaning of Christmas, but, you know . . . they’re kids.”</span></p><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>The only sounds in the cab were me and Tony chomping our food.</span></p><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></b>“So you buy all that?” I said. The question sorta popped out before I knew it was coming.</span></p><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>“All what?”</span></p><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>“All those stories about Christmas?”</span></p><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>“You mean Santa and the elves and the North Pole?”</span></p><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>“No, I mean a baby and the wise men and the stable.”</span></p><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>He took another swig of coffee and screwed the lid on his thermos. “Yeah . . . yeah, I buy it. I mean, I don’t think it happened like the scenes on Christmas cards. But I believe there was a baby. And I believe there were signs and clues that showed it was a special baby—God’s Son.”</span></p><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>I let out a sigh. “It’s a lot to get your head around, isn’t it? A virgin birth. Angels singing.”</span></p><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Tony stared out the windshield and rubbed his chin. “I guess it is. If you’re looking for scientific proof, Gracene, I can’t help you. But for me, there’s more reason to believe that God exists than that He doesn’t. And if I believe in a God powerful enough to create the universe and smart enough to design the human body, then it’s no problem to believe he could manage a virgin birth.” He nodded at the decorations. “Or an angel choir.” He packed up his leftovers and his thermos in his careful, organized way and opened his door. “Ultimately, it’s a matter of faith. And that’s a decision we all have to make for ourselves.”</span></p><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>For the rest of the afternoon, our conversation stuck in my mind. Tony hadn’t given a lot of facts to back up his explanation. But it made more sense than any I’d ever heard.</span></p><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: large;">This past year I posted about my favorite songs and hymns, so I guess this would also be a good time to share my favorite Christmas song, "Mary Did You Know?" While I've heard some people respond to this title with "Of course, she knew," I still love its message of hope and its beautiful melody. And this performance by <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NGw8holYZr0">Kenny Rogers and Wynonna Judd</a> remains my favorite rendition of it.</span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: large;">Have a favorite Christmas scene from a book or movie? A favorite Christmas song? Please share in the Facebook comments!</span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: center;"><span style="color: red; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: x-large;">"Hey!</span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: center;"><span style="color: red; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: x-large;">Unto You a Child is Born!"</span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: left;"><span style="color: red; font-family: Times New Roman;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"> -</span><span style="font-size: medium;">Gladys Herdman in <i>The Best Christmas Pageant Ever</i></span><br /></span></p>Dee Deehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05075414876444998775noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6229818391094949327.post-13554721831887325162022-05-29T17:29:00.001-07:002022-05-29T17:29:54.772-07:00<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqsaGJAn4uXd62iFTDZMzUK6ZIINZd1IZdX0VMMShb7xq_LcrcUm6ouGjrBwBORxsXbDH9t5TONscqkLeNjH3_3_HKZTc7ZUykXU3LLX7EUsmz8Ox3GFSKWyKAZniBVTJ_QKtkDjb9uNaLmTyIdi40CRO5gQJIrOvgkmTJXf8fEGX0mhW40hjK7u3LTg/s1920/quote-gd9dafa77a_1920.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1920" data-original-width="1440" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqsaGJAn4uXd62iFTDZMzUK6ZIINZd1IZdX0VMMShb7xq_LcrcUm6ouGjrBwBORxsXbDH9t5TONscqkLeNjH3_3_HKZTc7ZUykXU3LLX7EUsmz8Ox3GFSKWyKAZniBVTJ_QKtkDjb9uNaLmTyIdi40CRO5gQJIrOvgkmTJXf8fEGX0mhW40hjK7u3LTg/s320/quote-gd9dafa77a_1920.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br /> <span style="font-size: large;">On</span><span style="font-family: times; font-size: large;"> <a href="http://www.deedeechumley.com/2022/01/over-past-few-years-my-appreciation-for.html">January 16</a>, I announced my intention not to choose a word to focus on throughout the year, as was my habit. Instead, inspired by a hymn our choir sang that Sunday morning, I decided to spend 2022 listening for either familiar or newly discovered songs/hymns that--in my mind--give me a "fleeting glimpse" of the divine. </span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: large;">Since that morning, I've been consistent--consistent for me, that is--in posting about such songs, but I've yet to blog about the hymn that instigated this series of posts. Incidents kept occurring which made the messages of other songs seem more urgent. But two recent happenings make it abundantly clear that the time to blog about "Wonderful, Merciful Savior" has come. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: large;">Dawn Rodgers and Eric Wyse co-wrote this song in 1989, and hundreds of</span><span style="font-family: times; font-size: x-large;"> </span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;">recordings exist. Because of the beautiful melody which lends itself so perfectly to harmony, I've loved every rendition I've heard. But as I said in my initial post, to allow me a peek into heaven, a song must be the perfect union between music </span><i style="font-family: times;"><span>and</span></i><span style="font-family: times;"> </span><span style="font-family: times;">words. </span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: large;">This past week, yet another school shooting occurred in the US. I cannot fathom a horror that guts us so completely as does the senseless slaying of innocents. As I reflected on this evil act, words from this hymn played over and over in my mind: "You offer hope when our hearts have hopelessly lost our way." </span></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: large;">In the raging battle over gun control, many social media posts have declared prayers are not enough; actions are required. I'm not weighing in on either side of the gun control argument, but I know this: Whatever action we do take will be totally ineffective if unaccompanied by prayer. It is only through prayer that we can cling to the hope of healing when it seems that as a country we have "hopelessly lost our way."</span></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: large;">The second event that makes posting about this song timely is the temporary loss of Lucas Fabio as choir director at our church. The very person who awakened in me the beauty of this hymn and others, Lucas came from Brazil as a doctoral music student. In the time he has been with us, he has faithfully and lovingly worked with the choir to add inspiration and meaning to the traditional worship service. I have heard nothing but admiration for Lucas and his family in the years they have served our church. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: large;">Sadly, the visas for the Fabio family are about to expire. Efforts are being made to secure permanent living for them in the US, but those efforts won't get through bureaucratic </span><span style="font-family: times; font-size: large;">red tape before the visas run out. Later this week, the Fabios will return to Brazil.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: large;">I'm calling this loss "temporary," however, because I'm resting in the assurance that prayers will bring the Fabio family back to us soon. This isn't "Good-bye." It's "Farewell until you return."</span></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: large;">This version of "Wonderful, Merciful Savior" is <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AFIAeNKyBoo">my favorite</a> because I like the saxophone solo in the middle of it. This one is my <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=w7IQvIBcomw">daughter's favorite. </a>There are many to choose from. Choose the one that "speaks" to you.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: large;"><br /></span></p>Dee Deehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05075414876444998775noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6229818391094949327.post-35505460289669819792022-05-07T14:36:00.000-07:002022-05-07T14:36:15.121-07:00<p style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAdn_Ywpu5IPgJBp5uU2q107VKaiNPKeyjeNmwLACyiFUqxR55Z73JJLd-wCg06WcU_IQ5KAQzUZn0b9FElWB049ybb82wei6YuuUXGH7VSXq_avU-Gq37yg9TsuVBrvZNEDrj2pOAaF7qJU5vF7Xgqu5lntE3zegwdWD7JRGuMkXmahJzheYCxHytbA/s1920/quote-gd9dafa77a_1920.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1920" data-original-width="1440" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAdn_Ywpu5IPgJBp5uU2q107VKaiNPKeyjeNmwLACyiFUqxR55Z73JJLd-wCg06WcU_IQ5KAQzUZn0b9FElWB049ybb82wei6YuuUXGH7VSXq_avU-Gq37yg9TsuVBrvZNEDrj2pOAaF7qJU5vF7Xgqu5lntE3zegwdWD7JRGuMkXmahJzheYCxHytbA/s320/quote-gd9dafa77a_1920.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><span style="font-family: times; font-size: large;">My mother, Gladys Jo Robertson Fink, passed away on January 20, 2022. With family scattered far and wide, it took a while for relatives and friends to assemble in Yachats, Oregon, for a memorial service, but the day came at last. </span><p></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: large;">In 2013, my father Joseph Fink preceded Mama in death. We held a memorial service for him at the time but waited until Mama's passing to follow their wishes of having their ashes released into the ocean. On April 3, family and friends gathered on a temperate spring day at the banks of the Yachats River and let its gently flowing current carry Mama's and Daddy's earthly remains to the Pacific Ocean. Then we made our way to my sister’s house to remember the happy, sad, poignant, funny times that we had experienced with our mother, grandmother, great grandmother, aunt, friend. </span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: large;">Two circumstances alleviated the sadness of this occasion. The first was the long and productive life Mama had been granted. She was ninety-six at the time of her death, and most of her years had been healthy and active. Those who knew her often spoke of her humor, wit, love for family and friends, and—a word that came up often—“spunk.” </span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqVDNygLu0xSvlaOwKZJ1Iau5V0qEJnrnxKEBRPoFJ8TC9sNE5iL4nLsz9MkB2ul_xKmkO-cZ57kaTpo0Ww9yB06PgZhUa4qDVc8c2fG0EzPqUo4lW6InvAtlVFzNBIX2BHhB35daSl2n3gl4dgb8gfn1of_kD67OD5iYY1Yf7OK0-Gf7C9BBi8w6o1w/s889/Mama%20spunky.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="889" data-original-width="827" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqVDNygLu0xSvlaOwKZJ1Iau5V0qEJnrnxKEBRPoFJ8TC9sNE5iL4nLsz9MkB2ul_xKmkO-cZ57kaTpo0Ww9yB06PgZhUa4qDVc8c2fG0EzPqUo4lW6InvAtlVFzNBIX2BHhB35daSl2n3gl4dgb8gfn1of_kD67OD5iYY1Yf7OK0-Gf7C9BBi8w6o1w/s320/Mama%20spunky.jpg" width="298" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Even in her later years, Mama's "spunk"<br />came through!</td></tr></tbody></table><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: large;">Mama had served as the inspiration behind many of my prize-winning contest essays and stories, all of which contained an element of her humor. In her last three years, however, failing health and progressing dementia deprived her of her enjoyment of life. She often mentioned to me she had “lived too long.” She was ready to depart this world for a better one.</span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: large;">The second circumstance to lessen the pain of Mama’s death was knowing of her steadfast faith. As a longtime Christian, she believed in life after earthly death—a life in which she would be reunited with loved ones; a life in which she would be released from the shackles of pain and fear brought on by age; a life in which she could spend eternity in the presence of her Savior. One Sunday when she was in her early nineties, she and my sister were leaving church where <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Jbe7OruLk8I">“Amazing Grace (My Chains Are Gone)" </a>had been sung. Hobbling along with the use of her walking stick—for her, a form of “chains”—Mama remarked, “I want that song sung at my funeral.” I know she was thinking of the day she could throw away that stick. </span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: large;">Mama also loved the old gospel song <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1BPoMIQHwpo">“I’ll Fly Away,”</a> finding great joy in the lively tune and comfort in the words of assurance of the better life awaiting her. The first comment I read on this rendition of “I’ll Fly Away” was “If this song isn’t sung at my funeral, I’m not going.” It sounded exactly like something Mama would say. </span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: large;">As friends and relatives said our earthly farewells to Mama, the melodies and lyrics of these songs rang in our ears, reminding us of the hope and assurance Mama had. My prayer is that as you listen to them, you are reminded of the same.</span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqohNtDcRKYaSsXxEsCESi5hEXn5m1ynKTZ2ERrf3fSm5SgQzYbSkdIUaasI-Wb485YogS40-oqNsPm-NChWYRDFMvLVIUDVRgUmw1f9qfygx1Snsr-1q5roMABT9JZXPCWt1mtrA751MpZ-4H_wjRO7pgwcTB4MDt01tvsTJGAE_sQM97pjYNpmBcNg/s3264/IMG_2456.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3264" data-original-width="2448" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqohNtDcRKYaSsXxEsCESi5hEXn5m1ynKTZ2ERrf3fSm5SgQzYbSkdIUaasI-Wb485YogS40-oqNsPm-NChWYRDFMvLVIUDVRgUmw1f9qfygx1Snsr-1q5roMABT9JZXPCWt1mtrA751MpZ-4H_wjRO7pgwcTB4MDt01tvsTJGAE_sQM97pjYNpmBcNg/s320/IMG_2456.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Gladys Robertson Fink 1942; 2021</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRCzocJQpvYmqEVvbbxOiWBqSH8BY5_hfqH9gXIRttesQ29Icj7y54qbi8TVa06TfBbOMcqOvmZ7oSePsVbmJCiZ8zssfYHJ_0AUyGGL0Alq24AVyftXWdcWmGfk5uopAtcTPqmjYyDrxIGDhonJSuwJxhn8P_xK_etzgDDjyNxEF2KyA2sRQDrvqHqQ/s640/Mama%20older.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="635" data-original-width="640" height="318" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRCzocJQpvYmqEVvbbxOiWBqSH8BY5_hfqH9gXIRttesQ29Icj7y54qbi8TVa06TfBbOMcqOvmZ7oSePsVbmJCiZ8zssfYHJ_0AUyGGL0Alq24AVyftXWdcWmGfk5uopAtcTPqmjYyDrxIGDhonJSuwJxhn8P_xK_etzgDDjyNxEF2KyA2sRQDrvqHqQ/s320/Mama%20older.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: times; font-size: large;"><br /></span><p></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><br /><span style="font-family: times; font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZ__NkeCXb0XNzJqKNH8V5dk3XcX68RhxnBUW135j-9qvlMqz_GzefETz2H808DJ4XffoZrABH3oST1kxpzvXCumJ2PYpO7sQ-8PkOw6hT896w2RIl_BWhIss5Y7ScAQMO7BqUuTZDZKaOVM9xkLlfC7rfaqzsLoXpnm7y1WRx8gnio7AkXph0mnRaUw/s640/Mama%20older.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><br /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZ__NkeCXb0XNzJqKNH8V5dk3XcX68RhxnBUW135j-9qvlMqz_GzefETz2H808DJ4XffoZrABH3oST1kxpzvXCumJ2PYpO7sQ-8PkOw6hT896w2RIl_BWhIss5Y7ScAQMO7BqUuTZDZKaOVM9xkLlfC7rfaqzsLoXpnm7y1WRx8gnio7AkXph0mnRaUw/s640/Mama%20older.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><br /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZ__NkeCXb0XNzJqKNH8V5dk3XcX68RhxnBUW135j-9qvlMqz_GzefETz2H808DJ4XffoZrABH3oST1kxpzvXCumJ2PYpO7sQ-8PkOw6hT896w2RIl_BWhIss5Y7ScAQMO7BqUuTZDZKaOVM9xkLlfC7rfaqzsLoXpnm7y1WRx8gnio7AkXph0mnRaUw/s640/Mama%20older.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"> </a></div><br /></div><p></p>Dee Deehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05075414876444998775noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6229818391094949327.post-9161299621542341782022-04-17T09:01:00.003-07:002022-04-17T09:06:13.287-07:00<p style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidVfgTlRvBzf3P_58Od1wQo1ckQPxIwrKjOFKNf9xh1XPN4BPhYxEwdOfIXbtYl0qlWKIXvrDnm_ET_JBAH6bBeZ1BlxCzQwooicF3BxHPwXnaSA9NEceoxuR0yNWsTYrLter5A3kyZEcWD8HSl7u42BP5shpuke9H8WxKZ2kSb4MyWcMGkdTQVcWYIg/s1920/quote-gd9dafa77a_1920.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1920" data-original-width="1440" height="349" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidVfgTlRvBzf3P_58Od1wQo1ckQPxIwrKjOFKNf9xh1XPN4BPhYxEwdOfIXbtYl0qlWKIXvrDnm_ET_JBAH6bBeZ1BlxCzQwooicF3BxHPwXnaSA9NEceoxuR0yNWsTYrLter5A3kyZEcWD8HSl7u42BP5shpuke9H8WxKZ2kSb4MyWcMGkdTQVcWYIg/w240-h349/quote-gd9dafa77a_1920.jpg" width="240" /></a></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /><span style="font-family: times;">Weeks ago, I thought I had the perfect hymn picked out for Easter—<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TlyMxBj17LE">“How Deep the Father’s Love for Us.”</a> I love this song’s moving melody and easy harmony. A recent reading of Mark 14-15 tells me the lyrics give an accurate account of the Crucifixion: the physical pain—“wounds which mar the Chosen One”; the humiliation—“I hear my mocking voice call out among the scoffers”; and, perhaps most devastating, the sense of desertion—“The Father turns His face away.”</span></span><p></p><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">But Chapter 16 of Mark, tells of the Resurrection. And this past week I’ve seen the stirring words of S. M. Lockridge shared several times on Facebook posts: <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QS2wPotScZY">“It’s Friday. But Sunday’s coming.”</a> I am reminded that Easter is a two-part story. </span></p><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">In Chapter 16, Mark describes the women who come to the tomb early on Sunday morning to anoint Jesus’s body with spices. They discover the stone covering the tomb entrance has been rolled away. Inside, a young man dressed in a white robe delivers astounding news: “You are looking for Jesus of Nazareth who was crucified. He isn’t here! He has risen from the dead!” </span></p><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">In Mark’s Gospel, he reports only that the women ran away, confused and frightened. But Matthew informs us the women were “very frightened but filled with great joy.” (Matthew 28:8) I like Matthew's version better. I don’t think I can come close to imagining what these women felt. Along with Jesus's other followers, they had just experienced two horrendous days. On the first day, they had watched as their beloved teacher and leader had been brutally tortured and crucified. In the silence of the second day, they had endured paralyzing doubt and fear, wondering if Jesus's claims would prove true or if they'd bought into the scam of the centuries.</span></p><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">Then on the third day, they learned he had risen just as he said he would. What relief…what renewed hope…what indescribable joy! </span></p><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">And that’s why the Easter story needs two songs--a haunting one to tell of a horrible, hopeless Friday and a jubilant one to remind us <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cAq2lnI94BA">Sunday came</a>.</span></p><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmecs6wzhh0_sIabJY8rvOBRu1AKClijYXiJb70jl9xFO71rQNUfS7j5SiPLt97ZbrnkoDIfLk_b9B3lNh6zrfvtODM9xE-zAjDCx-bMBBNQX2JZ5goYUJycTk8T23_xR_rgsWUdUv45R2zTC2ChaqPRxukcDCTvtO-RyC82SXOp0tpJO8Ro7_k4dQtw/s252/Friendship%20Easter%20card.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="144" data-original-width="252" height="182" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmecs6wzhh0_sIabJY8rvOBRu1AKClijYXiJb70jl9xFO71rQNUfS7j5SiPLt97ZbrnkoDIfLk_b9B3lNh6zrfvtODM9xE-zAjDCx-bMBBNQX2JZ5goYUJycTk8T23_xR_rgsWUdUv45R2zTC2ChaqPRxukcDCTvtO-RyC82SXOp0tpJO8Ro7_k4dQtw/w318-h182/Friendship%20Easter%20card.png" width="318" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #6aa84f; font-size: xx-large;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #6aa84f; font-size: xx-large;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">Wishing you</span> a blessed Easter!</span></div><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><p></p>Dee Deehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05075414876444998775noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6229818391094949327.post-4601774575714631782022-03-02T15:11:00.000-08:002022-03-02T15:11:42.361-08:00<p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: x-large; text-align: center;"><span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiok51xqcL5z99HHVK2nKZpnziV23_D_Ibs5mivDY9SpXc445ygFADHHVnw7OmWHWLjI62wbYSNJMwLMcArAMd-1n0wFrqVlVAdBnqBG-izDfPBgUiKmksZEZuyiXRZZWQgbeXNOyvpykHPKp_yQJOHRVF4uauv810KOJ2GCt9yAFwxt7AwTlJbQJetDA=s1920" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1920" data-original-width="1440" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiok51xqcL5z99HHVK2nKZpnziV23_D_Ibs5mivDY9SpXc445ygFADHHVnw7OmWHWLjI62wbYSNJMwLMcArAMd-1n0wFrqVlVAdBnqBG-izDfPBgUiKmksZEZuyiXRZZWQgbeXNOyvpykHPKp_yQJOHRVF4uauv810KOJ2GCt9yAFwxt7AwTlJbQJetDA=s320" width="240" /></a></span></div><span><br /><span style="font-family: times; font-size: x-large;">I’d been considering a series of posts on “This Is My Father’s World” for over a year because I love its inspiring imagery and comforting message. Then I heard another hymn that sent my song blogs in a different direction. Recently, however, two events occurred that convinced me the time had come to give attention to this hymn, for it is as relevant today—if not more so—than when the poet penned the words in the 1890s.</span></span><p></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></span></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">The first event was subtle. Sunday before last, our choir sang “This Is My Father’s World” as the offertory hymn. Although the words were familiar to me, the melody was not. I have to admit that as taken as I am with the song’s words, I’ve never been a fan of the original tune. Its simplicity seems underserving of the lyrics’ grandeur. This disconnect made more sense to me when I learned the melody was that of an English folk song and not composed specifically for this hymn. </span></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">When our choir sang the new version of the hymn, I listened with pleasant surprise and reverent awe. Composer Lee Dengler paired Babcock’s exquisite words with a melody worthy of their message. The union of the two allowed me to catch a gleam from what Richard Rohr calls, “A liminal space. A holy place.”</span></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Inspired by our choir’s performance, I researched the song’s history and learned it was originally a poem, written by Maltbie D. Babcock and published posthumously in 1901. Babcock, a Presbyterian minister in upstate New York, had a habit of taking morning walks to the top of a hill that overlooked Lake Ontario. Before these excursions, he would often say, “I’m going out to see my Father’s world.”</span></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">There is so much emotion and wisdom packed in that single phrase. The imagery and adoration infused within the lines that resulted from those walks give testament to both Babcock’s poetic skill and his Godly devotion. </span></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Far from being subtle, the second event that prompted this post was an Earth-shaking one—Russia’s invasion of the Ukraine. Along with the rest of the world, I wait with anxiety to see the consequences this atrocity. As I do so, lines from this song play over and over in my unsettled mind: “That though the wrong seems oft so strong/God is the Ruler yet.”</span></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">This isn’t a frivolous dismissal of a serious problem. A discussion with my husband brought me to the conclusion there are no easy solutions to this frightening, tangled web of politics and power. Indeed, the wisest and perhaps the only course of action is for the world to pray for guidance that can lead to peace, all the while remembering that, despite the actions of a despotic dictator, “God reigns...”!</span></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">With this in mind, I have an assignment for you. So many of Babcock’s phrases resonate with me as I take in the wonder and beauty of nature. Over the years, I’ve collected evidence of God’s masterful hand at work in his world through photographs. I often scroll through them on my phone to lift my spirits and remind me God is in control. I’m going to share a few of my photos and one borrowed one at the end of this post. I ask you to please comment on Facebook by sharing one (or more) pictures that you think perfectly reflects words or phrases from this song. To help you in this task, here are the stanzas:</span></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>This is my Father’s world,</span></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>And to my listening ears</span></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>All nature sings, and round me rings</span></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>The music of the spheres.</span></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>This is my Father’s world:</span></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>I rest me in the thought</span></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Of rocks and trees, of skies and seas—</span></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>His hand the wonders wrought.</span></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>This is my Father’s world:</span></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>The birds their carols raise,</span></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>The morning light, the lily white,</span></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Declare their Maker’s praise.</span></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>This is my Father’s world:<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>He shines in all that’s fair;</span></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>In the rustling grass, I hear Him pass,</span></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>He speaks to me everywhere.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>This is my Father’s world:</span></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>O let me ne’er forget</span></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>That though the wrong seems oft so strong,</span></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>God is the Ruler yet.</span></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>This is my Father’s world:<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Why should my heart be sad?</span></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>The Lord is King: let the heavens ring!</span></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>God reigns; let earth be glad!</span></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="font-size: x-large; white-space: pre;"> </span><span style="font-size: x-large;">To further inspire you, I’ve <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RT8aaR1Y0GA">linked</a> to a performance of the song. The video quality isn’t the best, but it is one of only two I could find of Dengler’s version. If you prefer the traditional melody, there are many choices. Whichever you prefer, may you find peaceful assurance in the words.</span></span></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhkaVCGoEAzszHyLS6CHjGkvSQpkrVZMrhB1K7PQB420MBp9Ar55cOdvZczOxh0B0CtOEvKg-ZrKWzrwqa4akcr8FRYssXdoeqwnmrNrOCMzVKv7FYMA45VHOolC1ZI0ptQHWcAX7_pBd5qxN0Hds26oPXL08CCu4JMSHpZVicLlae7Ivuo2_Ghf1bwEg=s640" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhkaVCGoEAzszHyLS6CHjGkvSQpkrVZMrhB1K7PQB420MBp9Ar55cOdvZczOxh0B0CtOEvKg-ZrKWzrwqa4akcr8FRYssXdoeqwnmrNrOCMzVKv7FYMA45VHOolC1ZI0ptQHWcAX7_pBd5qxN0Hds26oPXL08CCu4JMSHpZVicLlae7Ivuo2_Ghf1bwEg=s320" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"> Of rocks </td></tr></tbody></table> <p></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><br /></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhzn4jLp6_m6K_2dYa0jGrPXeb5oa4qrFSX_i126AGTmIcIYKjOGPnhASYB2b2VpCzfRXvNP3VjbPvUhmIp1BOkuTjV4kgrin3lkDVVOaARd665EdRwEYI4CzuLFcYObMKPaGIxrsxG2zgDXpMYtEGIqIDzvuVFp58vFHX-QTlY1GivS6klLDRTka4FGA=s640" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhzn4jLp6_m6K_2dYa0jGrPXeb5oa4qrFSX_i126AGTmIcIYKjOGPnhASYB2b2VpCzfRXvNP3VjbPvUhmIp1BOkuTjV4kgrin3lkDVVOaARd665EdRwEYI4CzuLFcYObMKPaGIxrsxG2zgDXpMYtEGIqIDzvuVFp58vFHX-QTlY1GivS6klLDRTka4FGA=s320" width="240" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"> and trees</td></tr></tbody></table><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><br /></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgxLMQpdCF00dmQqk1auJgw9YrjF0rEWt9EhKc-GtbN8ANWfTsvUD1qb2KKG2S4negRMWiRndviNvSuHD2TZ9mO-qN-elXPzxsLK2k51wdXN8aDza4ONoaXSFilsQNSCtJNdLu1aeSdSoBk5kOTKEnTYSOmg0rlFgfeEhbKYuK6Fnyh6O2841IWNkC_eg=s640" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="498" data-original-width="640" height="249" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgxLMQpdCF00dmQqk1auJgw9YrjF0rEWt9EhKc-GtbN8ANWfTsvUD1qb2KKG2S4negRMWiRndviNvSuHD2TZ9mO-qN-elXPzxsLK2k51wdXN8aDza4ONoaXSFilsQNSCtJNdLu1aeSdSoBk5kOTKEnTYSOmg0rlFgfeEhbKYuK6Fnyh6O2841IWNkC_eg=s320" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">of skies and seas-- </td></tr></tbody></table><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgTaIVME_Ltgy_SstYWyiDPJwsvE-8qlhK7z2668pq74ZRcZr4tmWR-4IHWxJjqG6UZh-4HaWGBy1_Wk6Bo2JWk8iucwwH9yOiElYB9BVLgHV5zGnB0Tka8ET4_97YeW4tG3r6PTMHzh1k5S5k_Bu3i9vtA2mh2wpVgbKd-lxtactDNolHQeQkmnSadsg=s1440" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><br /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgTaIVME_Ltgy_SstYWyiDPJwsvE-8qlhK7z2668pq74ZRcZr4tmWR-4IHWxJjqG6UZh-4HaWGBy1_Wk6Bo2JWk8iucwwH9yOiElYB9BVLgHV5zGnB0Tka8ET4_97YeW4tG3r6PTMHzh1k5S5k_Bu3i9vtA2mh2wpVgbKd-lxtactDNolHQeQkmnSadsg=s1440" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"> </a></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><br /></p><p></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><br /></p><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><br /><br /><br /></span><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj0H5WsTN3N-MrEOOOBCz4DGcYVMaNUe_tZBJhY6waBvemqHCDAXtgS4-D-PC1CUqT0FwL15-7d-Tpqjv3Ls5G2PoahxhS32bd58twt42lejtmGZLI1gQJnEhk7A9SpOYujlsXX8-v-vzm4lZGyud_356qiBLpb9jiPN60gIeyKfP_njm0tT8aMfmVwUQ=s640" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="342" data-original-width="640" height="171" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj0H5WsTN3N-MrEOOOBCz4DGcYVMaNUe_tZBJhY6waBvemqHCDAXtgS4-D-PC1CUqT0FwL15-7d-Tpqjv3Ls5G2PoahxhS32bd58twt42lejtmGZLI1gQJnEhk7A9SpOYujlsXX8-v-vzm4lZGyud_356qiBLpb9jiPN60gIeyKfP_njm0tT8aMfmVwUQ=s320" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span> The morning light,</span></td></tr></tbody></table><p> </p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p> </p><p><br /></p><p> </p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjClMZmMLdNvsMG7eQHXhSmM9apiE-rMFV1AisSF0DffP1wEKilmImQWiAsMChWIj3yWUDxbnxckRNjGmH05HLOGuegqZa1j0yEs2ijP9wIfI1mRqzafiWly1ZFEG2JI_e0P254BMiNFEgcZX7Axm3WkvBehPpf2sI_OKqN2VL9j2Ot3G3EGAzLQ1Jl7w=s640" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjClMZmMLdNvsMG7eQHXhSmM9apiE-rMFV1AisSF0DffP1wEKilmImQWiAsMChWIj3yWUDxbnxckRNjGmH05HLOGuegqZa1j0yEs2ijP9wIfI1mRqzafiWly1ZFEG2JI_e0P254BMiNFEgcZX7Axm3WkvBehPpf2sI_OKqN2VL9j2Ot3G3EGAzLQ1Jl7w=s320" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span> the lily white,</span></td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;"> </span></div></blockquote><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhXGht9rUFRWw9Zio0pOAm1eCXOB6uy94PByd64APPM4mqNo2-XXJgytJzb8yqQW09VOouPHwrC6XNRCAlJQmYRjax6smqTlkJleZt6zEhl7WhPVHyGfEirG9b07Zc4C-1X-rRLsZxi-LD0IDroSbcaHmqndIXsUxbSXJFnEahJmWrtKfZb7f-iXSNDWA=s1389" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1389" data-original-width="1100" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhXGht9rUFRWw9Zio0pOAm1eCXOB6uy94PByd64APPM4mqNo2-XXJgytJzb8yqQW09VOouPHwrC6XNRCAlJQmYRjax6smqTlkJleZt6zEhl7WhPVHyGfEirG9b07Zc4C-1X-rRLsZxi-LD0IDroSbcaHmqndIXsUxbSXJFnEahJmWrtKfZb7f-iXSNDWA=s320" width="253" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span> He shines in all that's fair </span></td></tr></tbody></table></blockquote><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhXKOZYUH1PMaKIExS1Tn2oK5wqAKNv9f8MxEU4dRIHsHtl9wFG6GXAmG2CZmRM7umRsNV_-TTvaktGP589YW_LHeArPEWpMq5GSQK0Jnp8SZUFHsCedEXkvNbPQbcpggQjLH6HY-lSUOjR_uXB1zKsy-PWZZrO3k69LqK4MSbNvqIeCw0jec3K2UbCVw=s640" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhXKOZYUH1PMaKIExS1Tn2oK5wqAKNv9f8MxEU4dRIHsHtl9wFG6GXAmG2CZmRM7umRsNV_-TTvaktGP589YW_LHeArPEWpMq5GSQK0Jnp8SZUFHsCedEXkvNbPQbcpggQjLH6HY-lSUOjR_uXB1zKsy-PWZZrO3k69LqK4MSbNvqIeCw0jec3K2UbCVw=s320" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">In the rustling grass, I hear Him pass,<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"> </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"> <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhMLGMgi-CQir18qmDFpyHEvq3zWEG1VexmD2EdsdkSKcuCUjmRIDLPpJtSPKoXXy6SsoiCd6EUg2mvxN2xX6H3nad3WoQUKfi40mbes6vGzzYcGs5BBPpSteu7YsaBdzzTptkVzRd3r0JMgd8hYuDBmw4qVHMD7QvPQPeSoWDwLHZcIqoLtbVL9UhygA=s1920" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="1920" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhMLGMgi-CQir18qmDFpyHEvq3zWEG1VexmD2EdsdkSKcuCUjmRIDLPpJtSPKoXXy6SsoiCd6EUg2mvxN2xX6H3nad3WoQUKfi40mbes6vGzzYcGs5BBPpSteu7YsaBdzzTptkVzRd3r0JMgd8hYuDBmw4qVHMD7QvPQPeSoWDwLHZcIqoLtbVL9UhygA=w400-h266" width="400" /></a></div><br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><p></p><p><br /></p><p> </p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><br /></p></blockquote><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p></p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><p></p></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p>Dee Deehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05075414876444998775noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6229818391094949327.post-31826906922632127812022-02-13T12:16:00.003-08:002022-02-13T12:23:24.952-08:00<span style="font-size: large;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEibCuhke1k008QkiIUGdZMDu6A1HdS9MtumtyAbwzPvRH821zTFw0BAKY-nlAWN4tcO2s3fAAEi2m-PRUS043atS4jWMEodwEqWKs0MuqUitk4Hi3Ix1FANFdKbSzvjzLzcVbKoe7d9yU8yPYifwGT2mQNylwlzUp1M1dh0qyjub5OAF61G4voxVNYvAQ=s1920" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1920" data-original-width="1440" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEibCuhke1k008QkiIUGdZMDu6A1HdS9MtumtyAbwzPvRH821zTFw0BAKY-nlAWN4tcO2s3fAAEi2m-PRUS043atS4jWMEodwEqWKs0MuqUitk4Hi3Ix1FANFdKbSzvjzLzcVbKoe7d9yU8yPYifwGT2mQNylwlzUp1M1dh0qyjub5OAF61G4voxVNYvAQ=s320" width="240" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: times;">As promised last month, many of my posts this year will be concerned with <a href="http://www.deedeechumley.com/2022/01/over-past-few-years-my-appreciation-for.html">hymns/songs</a> that stir my soul. Songs that so perfectly combine words and melody as to allow a peek through the thin veil which separates the earthly kingdom from the spiritual one. </span></span><div><span style="font-family: times; font-size: large;"><br /></span><div><span style="font-family: times; font-size: large;">I had a specific song in mind when I conceived of these posts and intended to lead with it. But last Sunday, pastor Jay alluded to the dry bones of Ezekiel’s vision in his sermon, and that prompted me to think about our church’s collective read through the Old Testament last year.
It seems members who participated in that activity were of two factions: those who enjoyed reading the Old Testament and those who couldn't get out of it fast enough. Unlike most opposing factions today, we didn’t threaten to sue each other or unfriend each other on Facebook. We just had a fun and civil discussion. </span><div><div><span style="font-family: times; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: times; font-size: large;">I happened to be with those who found reading the Old Testament—for the most part—fascinating and uplifting. I add “for the most part” because only the most hardcore of Bible scholars—which I’m certainly not—could find the entire Old Testament fascinating. Genesis and Exodus provide an interesting start, but slogging through the 613 laws of Moses worked better for me than melatonin. And there was way more information than I wanted on how to build a tabernacle or sacrifice a bull. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: times; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: times; font-size: large;">Around about Judges, the action picks up again—and gets a little weird. Okay, a lot weird. I guarantee some of those stories of biblical heroes never made it into my childhood Sunday school curriculum. Same goes for the stories about Israel’s kings. But the Wisdom Literature gave me much to ponder with its unanswerable questions and much to enjoy with the beautiful poetic language. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: times; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: times; font-size: large;">Then came the prophets. I loved them. Many people consider the prophets messengers of doom and gloom and punishment (albeit well-deserved). Friend Sara, who isn’t an OT fan, contends there is way too much “smoting” taking place. She has a point, but there are also messages of hope and renewal and restoration. Messages that assure God’s people he has not abandoned them. Messages that point to God’s offer of hope through Jesus. As pastor Jay put it so beautifully, “The Old Testament is God’s continuous rescue plan.”</span></div><div><span style="font-family: times; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: times; font-size: large;">And that brings me back to Ezekiel. Later that Sunday afternoon, I reflected on the meaning behind Ezekiel’s vision. Lines from “Days of Elijah”—a song I hadn’t heard in a long time—came to me: “And these are the days of Ezekiel/The dry bones becoming as flesh.” Unlike most of the other songs I was considering for this series of blogs, this one is fast-paced with a pounding beat. And then there are the words. “And though these are days of great trial…out of Zion’s hill, salvation comes.” Seems to be written exactly for current times. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: times; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: times; font-size: large;">I’m not now nor have I ever been a very demonstrative person. Standing up in church and/or lifting my arms is not my modus operandi. Occasionally, if the music is particularly rousing, I’ll manage a discreet toe-tap. But I challenge anyone to listen to “Days of Elijah” and remain completely still. If this song doesn’t make your heart beat faster and send a slight chill down your spine, you might want to check if you’re alive. Turn up the volume, clap your hands, wave your arms, sway your body to the beat. If you do, you might get a tiny glimpse into one of heaven’s rowdier moments.</span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: times; font-size: large;">I chose this YouTube <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ca9LnzJnpjQ">version</a> because it provides stunning visuals along with the lyrics. But there are lots of renditions and artists to choose from. Choose the one that most inspires you!</span></div></div></div></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>Dee Deehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05075414876444998775noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6229818391094949327.post-85420104853406332682022-01-16T13:59:00.000-08:002022-01-16T13:59:48.595-08:00<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: large;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhxOcLozElXteEJUEzuFYyPxx3owD0BIL7nH2i0coHgOVd_qMP8KU4GvtZCgkjxHUEiRib6cH5kHaUVhwgs3HFbJ8H67S6nJJXl4yY0CvokFQCWp8YvI-SulQUU9GuoXFWGWw-HhDoTjfhrYhpp-QMybH2ehaadO-L2wZl9mdZKEl_9TFhcIVYecn3-4Q=s1920" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1920" data-original-width="1440" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhxOcLozElXteEJUEzuFYyPxx3owD0BIL7nH2i0coHgOVd_qMP8KU4GvtZCgkjxHUEiRib6cH5kHaUVhwgs3HFbJ8H67S6nJJXl4yY0CvokFQCWp8YvI-SulQUU9GuoXFWGWw-HhDoTjfhrYhpp-QMybH2ehaadO-L2wZl9mdZKEl_9TFhcIVYecn3-4Q=s320" width="240" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: times; font-size: large;"><br />Over the past few years, my appreciation for and fascination with the written word have grown exponentially. These days, among my greatest delights is discovering beautifully and meticulously written passages—words that artfully express the writer’s thoughts and deeply touch the reader’s sensibilities. Such passages inspire me and challenge me to rise to equal heights. </span><p></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: large;">But last week as I sat in our church sanctuary and listened to the choir sing a beautiful hymn, I realized that for me, song—the<i> union</i> of words and music—holds the greatest potential for giving me, a mere mortal, a peek into heaven. The combining of uplifting words with haunting melodies allows me a glimpse of the sublime, however fleeting that glimpse might be. </span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: large;">That discovery prompted me to veer from my tradition (if four years of doing something can constitute a tradition) of choosing a word to focus on throughout the year. While that practice served me well, this year </span><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-size: large;">I’m returning to making a resolution. Just one. And it won’t be broken before the ink with which it was written dries on the page. Rather than dreading this resolution, I’m looking forward to it.</span></span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;">I resolve in 2022 to listen thoughtfully and prayerfully for songs that speak to me in a meaningful way. I’m going to delight in their melodies and ponder their messages. From time to time, I’ll share those songs—mostly hymns, but not always—and my thoughts on them. </span><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: large;">I already have a few songs in mind and am anxious to discover new ones. I hope you’ll tune in to my posts. (Cheesy pun intended.) Maybe some of my favorites will be your favorites, too. Or hopefully you’ll share your favorites with me.</span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: large;"> </span></p><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><br /></p>Dee Deehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05075414876444998775noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6229818391094949327.post-66598588250403096532021-10-15T12:19:00.000-07:002021-10-15T12:19:07.147-07:00Shiny Things on a Cloudy Autumn Day<span style="font-size: large;">I fear I haven’t done justice to my WoY (Word of the Year) for <a href="http://www.deedeechumley.com/2021/01/my-word-for-2021-shine.html">2021</a>. And it isn’t because I don’t love it. I mean, what’s not to love about such a cheerful, encouraging word? And despite the fact that we’re still experiencing health, political, and economic debacles, there remain plenty of reasons to …<i> shine</i>! </span><div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;">Taking advantage of a fall traveling opportunity, husband Bill and I ventured into eastern Tennessee. In addition to being excited to see family, I was also hoping to take in some spectacular fall foliage. I wasn’t disappointed by the family visit, but we might’ve been a smidge early to fully enjoy the foliage fantasy. Maybe, we’ll be able to catch at least part of it on our return home. In the meantime, it’s still beautiful country, the weather is warm, and there are plenty of hiking trails to enjoy. So today, I set out on a short nature walk. </span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;">Now you might think that in order for something to shine, the sun must be out. And that does help. But even on a cloudy day like today, <a href="http://www.deedeechumley.com/2020/05/keep-looking-for-shiny-things.html">“shiny things” </a>can abound. And I found plenty of them on my hike today in the form of... mushrooms! </span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;">I love mushrooms—not to eat, but to observe. I think part of my fascination with them comes from those whimsical, fairy-like illustrations in children’s books. But those that appear in nature are no less endearing. There’s just something magical about funny little fungi that pop up in unusual places and come in myriad shapes, sizes, and colors. </span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;">So with the first sighting of mushrooms on my hike today, I knew I wasn’t going to miss the glowing reds and golds of autumn. I could catch those later. Mushrooms would more than suffice as my shiny things. And to prove my point, here are a few photos. I hope you find these woodland treasures as fascinating as I did!</span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgV2rv7o3GIibMJW0YlY_Cs3cyMQhiK7eL_rSjFHsQpMfQUxFZd0WMGqvpVbGwPf4puhqn5xCncy8NgpB8ZdvopluRaTv6PXKUn4tqn3FUswoY46G0qSzAY6VID8LHA_4tV22VOO5abrFz8/s640/IMG_5784.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgV2rv7o3GIibMJW0YlY_Cs3cyMQhiK7eL_rSjFHsQpMfQUxFZd0WMGqvpVbGwPf4puhqn5xCncy8NgpB8ZdvopluRaTv6PXKUn4tqn3FUswoY46G0qSzAY6VID8LHA_4tV22VOO5abrFz8/s320/IMG_5784.jpg" width="240" /></a></div> </div><div><span style="font-size: large;">This one shyly peeked from beneath a pile </span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;">of leaves, while others boldly displayed </span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"> their showy shapes ...<span style="text-align: center;"> </span></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span> <span> <span> <span> <span> <span> <span> <span> <span> <span> <span> <span> <span style="font-size: large;"> </span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><span> <span> <span> <span> <span> <span> <span> <span> <span> <span> <span> <span> </span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikirWeos9zJ-hkC9CeAqBLDQWcFQ8DM5-63wiBmQzDNwbWjhAlmEAeqQZJ1pPzv6fhv3Z2npzbXHNqXtf5f6s4tBNN1qamBF_35pGH1x2kr8OUSO-U4QrA3unIqVPaS6dzXxYw-eiqPEgH/s640/IMG_5801.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikirWeos9zJ-hkC9CeAqBLDQWcFQ8DM5-63wiBmQzDNwbWjhAlmEAeqQZJ1pPzv6fhv3Z2npzbXHNqXtf5f6s4tBNN1qamBF_35pGH1x2kr8OUSO-U4QrA3unIqVPaS6dzXxYw-eiqPEgH/s320/IMG_5801.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWKxmIUN4FPP085byHCfaMpv8f_MHdsTrrMAbE4s4mr8NXZe3ngIPrrw4nCUh5IGWY0w1QDiJfekrPoxz8wgre6CZCEjc2D60cTXimPbYCvV0ktb3itcKFATdojPAEhtwsWGgIbXzip5Is/s640/IMG_5782.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWKxmIUN4FPP085byHCfaMpv8f_MHdsTrrMAbE4s4mr8NXZe3ngIPrrw4nCUh5IGWY0w1QDiJfekrPoxz8wgre6CZCEjc2D60cTXimPbYCvV0ktb3itcKFATdojPAEhtwsWGgIbXzip5Is/s320/IMG_5782.jpg" width="240" /></a></div></div><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjh5qrzmjF84dOVLHpVOUSFocjBfSm-AhZ8a-wtIhCEfUa7ZLXH_ddPN2fvy07io3wdmvGkAS3Tu7UwyHcmLaGH3q61MAxzsahl4wznrLXEQfjMUapji2gFEyPwW1gvixqbE649nZR5aRAf/s640/IMG_5802.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjh5qrzmjF84dOVLHpVOUSFocjBfSm-AhZ8a-wtIhCEfUa7ZLXH_ddPN2fvy07io3wdmvGkAS3Tu7UwyHcmLaGH3q61MAxzsahl4wznrLXEQfjMUapji2gFEyPwW1gvixqbE649nZR5aRAf/s320/IMG_5802.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">impressive sizes...</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIk5RCA90pyihxu4yRE3gNg0LhE_T6Zbrw_koILvCGK-vL1utktWKG-dGOaMDOO0zmud7nlpACEqaTLzXT6EGGSzvji-MlnDZfTlhij35rDbXdraNDIIYE3HF2h-7kMd-GomNe7T4PNRFq/s640/IMG_5803.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIk5RCA90pyihxu4yRE3gNg0LhE_T6Zbrw_koILvCGK-vL1utktWKG-dGOaMDOO0zmud7nlpACEqaTLzXT6EGGSzvji-MlnDZfTlhij35rDbXdraNDIIYE3HF2h-7kMd-GomNe7T4PNRFq/s320/IMG_5803.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">and vibrant colors!</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxsGhAUEIh2YzzlVYuUA-B-7BEIkQOAHbqWe8-lkswt7CFI1t55vR_2EbexoHZyZFtBR9DR1v7BPumpwATfcj_GOprX0rfuOX4EkX9Sr7WrNKrYKl8OIe6dl0SZPzd9VEGhKrNVqjuseGA/s640/IMG_5787.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxsGhAUEIh2YzzlVYuUA-B-7BEIkQOAHbqWe8-lkswt7CFI1t55vR_2EbexoHZyZFtBR9DR1v7BPumpwATfcj_GOprX0rfuOX4EkX9Sr7WrNKrYKl8OIe6dl0SZPzd9VEGhKrNVqjuseGA/s320/IMG_5787.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCFcv9AuOMJ6I0siwO0srNhzkGB0yHZY3C7RzmFJPu3cA37cdphzyNJt5MZM6G-CbVxWTgqF4Wlz_DlaKdfLqjf-8T_CwDUDH2J23m6vdy2TKOOJlciHSxLJ0xU73rkaUpB5cght5aceYn/s640/IMG_5790.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCFcv9AuOMJ6I0siwO0srNhzkGB0yHZY3C7RzmFJPu3cA37cdphzyNJt5MZM6G-CbVxWTgqF4Wlz_DlaKdfLqjf-8T_CwDUDH2J23m6vdy2TKOOJlciHSxLJ0xU73rkaUpB5cght5aceYn/s320/IMG_5790.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIcfuQklGGREpEwo5HwXBlNsb9hPlqMNgZLiDzPyXmRzLQxiqtsXYUYlpS2ecV1-b1Id9tbQmUoyCtgj9ZrxN0cf2PR2cNjQDszeF3hgWFQVLzE97c6RTgOvOadBE0dvCaU2f5i1emYjiR/s640/IMG_5789.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIcfuQklGGREpEwo5HwXBlNsb9hPlqMNgZLiDzPyXmRzLQxiqtsXYUYlpS2ecV1-b1Id9tbQmUoyCtgj9ZrxN0cf2PR2cNjQDszeF3hgWFQVLzE97c6RTgOvOadBE0dvCaU2f5i1emYjiR/s320/IMG_5789.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #e69138; font-size: x-large;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(230, 145, 56);"><b><br /></b></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #e69138; font-size: x-large;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(230, 145, 56);"><b><br /></b></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #e69138; font-size: x-large;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(230, 145, 56);"><b>Wishing You a Fall Full of Shiny Things!</b></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /> <div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"> </span></div></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIcfuQklGGREpEwo5HwXBlNsb9hPlqMNgZLiDzPyXmRzLQxiqtsXYUYlpS2ecV1-b1Id9tbQmUoyCtgj9ZrxN0cf2PR2cNjQDszeF3hgWFQVLzE97c6RTgOvOadBE0dvCaU2f5i1emYjiR/s640/IMG_5789.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><br /></a></div>Dee Deehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05075414876444998775noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6229818391094949327.post-6122694730690250722021-04-18T13:00:00.002-07:002021-04-24T20:21:55.713-07:00When Someone Tarnishes Your Shine<p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">The shiny spring day matched my mood. I literally was in a good place—the garden center of my local Lowe’s store. To add to the bliss of the occasion, I’d managed to score the last garden cart. </span></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">Although the sunny, windless day seemed ideal for planting, experience with Oklahoma weather told me it was still too early to place any tender vegetation into the ground. So, anxious to dig in the dirt, I was following the gardening advice of experts and picking up supplies to prepare my soil. I pushed the cart right next to the forty-pound bags of compost and managed, without too much strain, to slide it onto the cart. </span></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">Close by, a man and a woman—I’d say late forties, early fifties—were deliberating on which fertilizer to buy. As I reached for my second bag of compost, the woman hurried over, saying, “Let me help you with that.” Giving me no time to respond, she heaved the second bag of compost on top of the first one and said, “How many bags do you need?”</span></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">Now, I’ll bet you think you know where this post is going. That I’m going to write about the kindness of a complete stranger. That her generosity and willingness to help warmed my heart and gilded the already shiny moment. That I thanked her with an offer of coffee at a nearby Starbucks and now we’re friends on social media.</span></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">Well, you’d be wrong. </span></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Times New Roman"; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgodJfZbXfmrwJguTg3ZhZxX6JUcQt_twPbMgwYOH2Tgon09ViTbsKL9nK_oY_VMFQj5cPzQ4GFvVqGF-BehuiBHRjba0nZExOCptic7NWGV3H6eGpPA7JMjbmzgIuFq3qUQBBKt_jbKkRz/s1280/starkbewolkt-1265202_1280.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1088" data-original-width="1280" height="170" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgodJfZbXfmrwJguTg3ZhZxX6JUcQt_twPbMgwYOH2Tgon09ViTbsKL9nK_oY_VMFQj5cPzQ4GFvVqGF-BehuiBHRjba0nZExOCptic7NWGV3H6eGpPA7JMjbmzgIuFq3qUQBBKt_jbKkRz/w200-h170/starkbewolkt-1265202_1280.png" width="200" /></a></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /><span style="font-family: times;">The woman had cast a shadow on my sunny day, and my immediate reaction was one of irritation. Did this woman think I was too old and feeble to lift those sacks by myself? Did I look that frail and helpless? Obviously this woman hadn’t read any of my posts about <a href="http://www.deedeechumley.com/2020/02/fitness-community.html" target="_blank">my exercise community</a> and hadn’t seen my Facebook profile picture—the one where I’m performing my tricky yoga pose. I suppressed the urge to challenge her to a planking contest right in the middle of the soil improvement aisle. </span></span><p></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQUehk8LWqBVfqGW-ZDQ98GYNY692j0uIbegBln63_hf-uqOuhjxEARlJ3U9eT5KdxT73PZSzF7pZxlj2fay_1ElkNW7xJJy_-10b-WZBDpM9aYQ_9dqhsZq61HR3Qdj92dl4PESbg-w42/s640/IMG_5218.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="532" data-original-width="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQUehk8LWqBVfqGW-ZDQ98GYNY692j0uIbegBln63_hf-uqOuhjxEARlJ3U9eT5KdxT73PZSzF7pZxlj2fay_1ElkNW7xJJy_-10b-WZBDpM9aYQ_9dqhsZq61HR3Qdj92dl4PESbg-w42/s320/IMG_5218.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;"> In case you've missed it, my tricky yoga pose.</td></tr></tbody></table></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><br /></p><p></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">Instead, I replied to her question with “That’s plenty.” Then with an admittedly chilly “Thank you,” I walked away. As I maneuvered toward the checkout line, I <i>ohyahed (</i>defined by my friend Shel Harrington as thinking of the perfect retort . . . too late). I should’ve told that woman I needed ten bags and watched with satisfaction as she worked up a sweat loading them onto the cart. Of course, then I would’ve never been able to push the cart out of the store. But that’s beside the point.</span></p><div><br /></div><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">Please stay with me. I promise there’s more to this post than a whiny rant.</span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"> </span></span></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">The incident spurred much reflection and introspection on my part, which eventually polished away the tarnish. First, by the time I’d gone through checkout, I’d had a friendly chat with the lady in line in front of me and with the cashier. Neither had reacted to me as if I were feeble-bodied or feeble-brained. Why should I let the actions of one person spoil a perfectly shiny day? </span></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">Second, what had the woman in question done that was so bad? She’d truly thought she was being helpful. With my full head of gray hair and with no make-up, I’m sure I’d supported her assumptions that I was old (correct) and needed assistance (incorrect). I’d let my ego get in the way of being gracious. </span></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">Finally, I had to reflect on the times I’ve made similar errors based on stereotypes. How many times have I allowed outward appearances to dictate my assessment of someone’s abilities and to influence my response toward them? More than I care to remember. </span></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">By the time I arrived home and unloaded those two bags of compost, I’d cooled down and was able to laughingly recount the incident to my husband. (Who, btw, has no reservations about my ability to do yard work and heavy lifting.) And, although I’m reluctant to reveal it, here’s the kicker: Before going to bed that night, I had to take a pill to relieve my aching back. Maybe I should’ve let that lady load <i>both </i>bags of compost . . . and follow me home and unload them. My ego might’ve been a bit bruised, but I could’ve saved myself some physical pain.</span></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;"><span style="font-size: large;">A FUN NOTE! </span></span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-size: x-large;">That term my clever friend Shel coined? She has an entire book of </span><i style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"><span style="font-size: large;">quinbloits</span>—</i><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-size: x-large;">words that cover situations we all face as we age. You’ll be hearing more from me about </span><i style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"><span style="font-size: large;">Over 50, Defined</span>, </i><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-size: x-large;">which debuts on April 30!</span></p><p style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZ7tE4JIkzc8GgvkzYRoCaG2OHGJxfWXzvxgWiA6UiLVqKa4SRfR8a1_L3U1UTMwYJa1RF4HrBYGnBr8of5AKb2g9NdQGg319gXNDtxug5JjiNGkq90bR7IDxF0gaS5uptj65dw0eMni9M/s586/IMG_5345.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="586" data-original-width="345" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZ7tE4JIkzc8GgvkzYRoCaG2OHGJxfWXzvxgWiA6UiLVqKa4SRfR8a1_L3U1UTMwYJa1RF4HrBYGnBr8of5AKb2g9NdQGg319gXNDtxug5JjiNGkq90bR7IDxF0gaS5uptj65dw0eMni9M/s320/IMG_5345.jpg" /></a></div><br /><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span><p></p>Dee Deehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05075414876444998775noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6229818391094949327.post-24595819653096130402021-02-22T10:57:00.011-08:002021-02-22T11:13:29.207-08:00Still Celebrating<p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlqnAsF7WRklrhID6i5yqg3NS3BA475Xh7QYT_OEUfp8VvHub5l8Z51KmhR7OtqV02e0RiLZoPKPzuwM8yMbiXuuwTwNR544R8mvPLPXdhdB9JzTbHdWkLeCi3-GGlgyicCD2IJtdsREVY/s640/IMG_5227.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="163" data-original-width="640" height="167" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlqnAsF7WRklrhID6i5yqg3NS3BA475Xh7QYT_OEUfp8VvHub5l8Z51KmhR7OtqV02e0RiLZoPKPzuwM8yMbiXuuwTwNR544R8mvPLPXdhdB9JzTbHdWkLeCi3-GGlgyicCD2IJtdsREVY/w512-h167/IMG_5227.jpg" width="512" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A birthday gift from a dear friend. <br />She knows me too well.<br /><br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: large;">Hard to believe a year has passed since my last birthday post. And what a year it has been! Last February when I blogged about my intention to celebrate my eighth decade, I had a hint the world was on the precipice of a pandemic. But I had no idea how many lives it would affect and to what extent. </span><span style="font-family: times; font-size: large;">Then, just as vaccines brought a glimmer of hope, an Arctic blast wreaked havoc in a large portion of the nation, resulting in further loss of life, health, property, or finances.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: large;"><span face="-webkit-standard" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;">I actually had a birthday post ready to publish over a week ago about how I was still determined to celebrate. A few days before,</span></span><span style="font-family: times;"> <span style="font-size: large;">the lyrics of </span></span><span face="-webkit-standard" style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SdfW_2frXnE" style="font-family: times;"><span>“Still the One”</span></a><span style="font-family: times;"> (the upbeat 70’s one by Orleans, not the sappy 90s one by Shania) came to me. I was going to parody it with “I’m seventy-one/and I’m still having fun.” It makes a great rhyme and would’ve been a lot of “fun” to write, </span><span style="font-family: times;">but in light of the sufferings experienced by so many, blogging about "having fun" seemed a bit Pollyanna-ish, if not downright insensitive. </span><span style="font-family: times;">But while I’m not exactly partying, clueless to the suffering of others, I’m still looking for and finding reasons to celebrate. </span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: large;"><span face="-webkit-standard" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: large;">Amid the current upheavals and the gloomy days of winter, moments and people that bring light to my life are still plentiful—are still reasons to be grateful: family, friends, community, faith, health …. As I listed them here, I realized they are the very same things I blogged about last <span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://www.deedeechumley.com/2020/02/celebrating-seventy.html">year</a> at this time</span>, so I won’t repeat myself. But for me, it’s therapeutic to stop—not just on my birthday—and take inventory of and meditate on the <a href="http://www.deedeechumley.com/2020/05/keep-looking-for-shiny-things.html">“shiny things”</a> that are part of my life every single day. They remind me that even at the ripe ol’ age of of seventy-one, life still offers lots of good stories with hopeful endings.</span></div></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p></p><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: large; text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: large; text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: large; text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: large; text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: large; text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: large; text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: large; text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: large; text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: large; text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: xx-large; text-align: left;"> </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: x-large; text-align: left;">My birthday wish this year is that we all discover lots of good stories to read, to write, to share, to live.</span></div><p></p><div><span style="font-family: times; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div><div><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><br /><span style="font-family: times; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></p><div><br /></div></div>Dee Deehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05075414876444998775noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6229818391094949327.post-12731163795205910782021-01-31T12:10:00.000-08:002021-01-31T12:10:26.904-08:00My Word for 2021: Shine<p><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFvfZcb3G2tkNJimugd5x7JevbJAasaBPozw43bGJ8Pg-fGsfwnN0Ow4wtvgj6gG1CQ8x4BQCpSoljDlK6GVnc8DLx20if1Ra_NbdSac0Mh496lW0Klm1FwJpuBoE69VGGPFLQZg_V_7jF/s579/lightpic.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="415" data-original-width="579" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFvfZcb3G2tkNJimugd5x7JevbJAasaBPozw43bGJ8Pg-fGsfwnN0Ow4wtvgj6gG1CQ8x4BQCpSoljDlK6GVnc8DLx20if1Ra_NbdSac0Mh496lW0Klm1FwJpuBoE69VGGPFLQZg_V_7jF/s320/lightpic.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">I’ll confess when I first read these words from Amanda Gorman’s poem for the presidential inauguration, I was somewhat disturbed. Not because the words weren’t eloquent and profound, but because I’d selected </span><i style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">shine</i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"> as my word for 2021 and hadn’t yet revealed it.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">Announcing it after her poem went viral seemed a bit like hopping on the proverbial bandwagon. But maybe links to former posts (below) will provide proof that this word was already on my radar months ago. If those don’t convince you, check out these cute cards I purchased at the beginning of the year.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"> </span></span><div><span style="font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: large;"><br /></span><div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="514" data-original-width="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-PZqzWYaDx-h9fMcgzP-9zspda4pYGdpJD4lAy5wSJ2d72EFCHf_-phocLhdSQxZoqmGjm07mE2MFobST49dNGBSXWPu7426bdsZFP7FYObkaziltNKZ6sXZwn94UFD2eflEGQiDMXiuz/s320/shinepic.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hopefully, one of these little cards will add<br />a bit of light to someone's day.</td></tr></tbody></table><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-PZqzWYaDx-h9fMcgzP-9zspda4pYGdpJD4lAy5wSJ2d72EFCHf_-phocLhdSQxZoqmGjm07mE2MFobST49dNGBSXWPu7426bdsZFP7FYObkaziltNKZ6sXZwn94UFD2eflEGQiDMXiuz/s640/shinepic.jpg"><span style="font-size: large;"></span></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: large;">If you're still not persuaded . . . well, the call to see and share light in today's world isn't a bad bandwagon to hop on.</span></div><p></p>
<p style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><span style="font-size: large;">I won’t repeat what I’ve already said in my previous posts but will briefly sum them up: Look for the shiny things; <i>be</i> the shiny thing in someone else’s life. In 2021, I’ll share from time to time the shiny things that brighten my life and in doing so will perhaps shed a tiny beam of light into a reader's life. </span></p>
<p style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p>
<p style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">Wishing you a year filled with shiny things!</span></p>
<p style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">(Please share some of the shiny things you’ve experienced in the comments below or on Facebook.)</span></p><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://www.deedeechumley.com/2020/05/keep-looking-for-shiny-things.html">Keep Looking for Shiny Things</a></span></p><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: left;"><br /></p><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://www.deedeechumley.com/2020/11/more-shiny-things.html">More Shiny Things</a></span></p><div><br /></div></div></div>Dee Deehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05075414876444998775noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6229818391094949327.post-84581679833267422722021-01-10T10:20:00.000-08:002021-01-10T10:20:08.864-08:00Does Community Require Proximity?<p style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Before giving 2020 its well deserved send-off, I feel I must wrap up the loose ends of my word for the past year—<i>community. </i>I got off to a good start with my posts last year, but then…well, you know… the pandemic.</span></p><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Because this ill-fated year wreaked havoc with my communities, I didn’t get around to writing about some of the very important ones of which I’m a part. They each deserve their own post, but for the sake of time, I’ll cover all of them here as briefly as possible.</span></p><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>My Reading Community: </b>I’ve belonged to the Circle of Friends Book Club for over twenty years and have grown and learned so much through this group of extraordinary ladies. By recommending books I would’ve never read on my own, they have broadened my interests and increased my knowledge and understanding on a variety of subjects. I’ve blogged about them many times, so my regular readers will know they are also fantastic cooks. I believe the meals we’ve shared are partly responsible for the club’s longevity, but it’s more than the scrumptious food. During the time we eat together, members discuss any number of experiences, both public and personal, joyful and sad. In his book, <i>How to Read Literature Like a Professor,</i> Thomas C. Foster states, “… whenever people eat or drink together, it’s communion … an act of sharing and peace… eating with another is a way of saying, ‘I’m with you, I like you, we form a community together.’” This is certainly true of our book club. The pandemic has disrupted our times of communion but hopefully hasn’t ended them. I look forward to our next opportunity to break bread together.</span></p><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjejJ03czJNq6BPksywZLGNleGYFH3f_XLBaXyTAIby3wYGYuFAtVnlSuv8CJhv8a9FsEXH0cEa74GPDBezBBuoEAC0Ut9wvWAMn1FDme8oo5JvhbVvO7g07g2pgB_kdSKs2njWGJteCWvj/s640/IMG_2374.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjejJ03czJNq6BPksywZLGNleGYFH3f_XLBaXyTAIby3wYGYuFAtVnlSuv8CJhv8a9FsEXH0cEa74GPDBezBBuoEAC0Ut9wvWAMn1FDme8oo5JvhbVvO7g07g2pgB_kdSKs2njWGJteCWvj/s320/IMG_2374.JPG" width="320" /></span></a></div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0aWTuCeu3UzMohZRsH-ySvzpzuWpmLkc1ewFGRSlaLTBLV9aihDAIDo7EVxir-rgnL-KrpG8AHyUrltcHXwy2-ruDL0tZB7G89iqXkpdwHcsf-w4ohWTTxbHAQb2diTG7MfTbP1K07Kfg/s640/IMG_2375.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0aWTuCeu3UzMohZRsH-ySvzpzuWpmLkc1ewFGRSlaLTBLV9aihDAIDo7EVxir-rgnL-KrpG8AHyUrltcHXwy2-ruDL0tZB7G89iqXkpdwHcsf-w4ohWTTxbHAQb2diTG7MfTbP1K07Kfg/s320/IMG_2375.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Circle of Friends, circa 2018</span></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /><span><br /></span></span><p></p><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>My Writing Community: </b><span>I participate in several writing groups, but the one in which I feel the greatest sense of community is my critique group, The Inklings. Around 2004/5 a teacher friend invited me to join her writing group, which we subsequently christened The Inklings. (We had no inkling at the time, C. S. Lewis’ writing group had already claimed that name.) Throughout the years, members have come and gone for various reasons, but a core has remained. Through their encouragement and tutelage, I have learned so much about the elusive art of writing. But far more than being a source through which to improve my writing, The Inklings—like my book club—have become family. Once again, social distancing has impeded our chances to meet physically. I can’t wait for our next gathering at the lake for the fun, the food, and the cut-throat competition of Word Wars!</span></span></p><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsdwBD4HntEdpO1AlNVndaN3XG98_eKrkGHEouO2FF0RTmbOW2QBHZzQl8sPnz6GO6nQ_CaaJB_Ou1ZDK_I3xzb-YAQiOmIbckoMftDcGpB-VoqOpRR7bEHjHH2pm6MpH75bgMnA8JB0Ua/s640/Inklings2018.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="502" data-original-width="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsdwBD4HntEdpO1AlNVndaN3XG98_eKrkGHEouO2FF0RTmbOW2QBHZzQl8sPnz6GO6nQ_CaaJB_Ou1ZDK_I3xzb-YAQiOmIbckoMftDcGpB-VoqOpRR7bEHjHH2pm6MpH75bgMnA8JB0Ua/s320/Inklings2018.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The intrepid Inklings! <br />(We have another member sadly no picture of her at the present.)</span></td></tr></tbody></table><b><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></b><p></p><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>My Family:</b> <span>I’ve referred to the previous two groups as “family,” and indeed the connections are as close as possible without sharing the same genes. Explaining the special relationship that exists among blood relatives is difficult, but maybe this true story can help. (Well, “true” as I remember it.)</span></span></p><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: medium;">When I was seven, my family lived in a neighborhood teeming with children. As with all kids, our playing would often break out in arguments. On one such occasion, my sister Elaine and I were playing with neighborhood girls, when a squabble developed—probably over something critical like who was to be “it” or whose toe touched the line while playing hopscotch. Anyway, when the feuding factions gathered on opposite sides of the street, it turned out I was allied with the neighborhood girls and Elaine was standing across from us. Alone. The other girls began to mumble. Elaine was bossy . . . always had to have her own way . . . always thought she was right. While I issued identical invectives on a daily basis, something just didn’t sit right with me for them to be doing it. I began to cry. </span></p><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: medium;">From her post across the street, Elaine hurled her own accusations. “What did y’all do to her?” Just as I had no problem with my own complaints about my sister, she had no compunction about her own frequent affronts which resulted in my crying. But I think we both knew intrinsically that, against outside forces, family stuck together. I crossed the street to join her.</span></p><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: medium;">There is truth to the adage “blood is thicker than water.” Despite the distances that separate us and our sometimes differing opinions, I’ve always known family provides me a safe place to land when times get rough or uncertain. They’ll always have my back. I pray you have such a community.</span></p><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjK9U2J0zoHqv0NlOMZK4I0Olcu7u1Pexa1Y2JMNdayMyNBfUZOvtlNeHZ5mxYmGcTePPGbGhJV9XfY_0s7_LQQ9t4r0c_YUiFG-7YvpWtDycuZZqrFup4stHkoC0NPlwaAzXO9s8ZKA94D/s712/IMG_5168.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="712" data-original-width="419" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjK9U2J0zoHqv0NlOMZK4I0Olcu7u1Pexa1Y2JMNdayMyNBfUZOvtlNeHZ5mxYmGcTePPGbGhJV9XfY_0s7_LQQ9t4r0c_YUiFG-7YvpWtDycuZZqrFup4stHkoC0NPlwaAzXO9s8ZKA94D/s320/IMG_5168.jpg" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">My sister and I had no reservations<br />about dishing out grief to each other.<br />But woe to the outsider who attempted it!</span></td></tr></tbody></table><b><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></b><p></p><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>My Faith Community:</b> <span>I’ve posted many times about different aspects of my faith, so I’m focusing here on one of the ways it provides me with community. I belong to a church of about two thousand members. While gathering with a large group of people—many of whom I don’t know personally—can be inspirational and affirming, it is within the smaller groups I feel my greatest sense of connection. Those are the people who </span><i>know</i><span> me, who encourage me, who hold me accountable. Almost twenty years ago, a few ladies and I started meeting once a month for a Bible study. However, most of us were working then, so difficulties with time and availability to teach made those meetings challenging. We eventually came to the conclusion that the larger church provided us with many opportunities for Bible study. What we wanted was the opportunity to relax, have fun, and enjoy each other’s company. So we decided our gatherings would simply be sharing a meal—communion! (You’re probably noticing that food plays a large part in my communities. </span><span style="font-family: "Apple Color Emoji"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">😆</span><span>) As with The Inklings, the membership has altered slightly through the years, but a core group remains. Covid limited our physical gatherings this year but not our enthusiasm and desire for connecting with each other. Via texting and emails, we’ve been able to support each other and lift up each other in prayer. But it will be so much more encouraging and fun when we can again meet in person.</span></span></p><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdQVI6gz_7ouNjh0h8sEWAdd_Js8dQaVothOODxjkbvsEUV3XCKsxelHukcsqiSOAJCwYm8dVJs4pXDYdFWLccpK3W6zy-1i7UZnCdS5h3bvIM7EjdU3ccqW_eThqL3s0Y38WWS6DQRq0v/s640/Smallgroup2017.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdQVI6gz_7ouNjh0h8sEWAdd_Js8dQaVothOODxjkbvsEUV3XCKsxelHukcsqiSOAJCwYm8dVJs4pXDYdFWLccpK3W6zy-1i7UZnCdS5h3bvIM7EjdU3ccqW_eThqL3s0Y38WWS6DQRq0v/s320/Smallgroup2017.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The faith community on which I can always depend.<br />Sadly, we're now missing sweet Anne, who was such<br />a beloved member of our group. <br />(Shout out to Marie, our <i>de facto</i> historian, for this photo!)</span></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span><p></p><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: medium;">When I first posted about community last January, I posed this question: Does community require physical proximity? I wasn’t sure of the answer at the time, but in writing this post I realized that while physical gathering might not be required, it most assuredly is preferred and desired. Technology can help us make it through this challenging time, but it certainly is no substitute for being together in person. When we make it through this pandemic—and all the other craziness of the moment—I know we’ll return to our communities with a much stronger appreciation for the joy that being with each other brings. </span></p><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: medium;">So now I bid an enthusiastic <i>adieu </i>to<i> </i>2020. On to 2021 and my brand new word! (I’ll reveal it in my next post.)</span></p><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><b></b><br /></p>Dee Deehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05075414876444998775noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6229818391094949327.post-57321383734781845632020-11-10T15:31:00.000-08:002020-11-10T15:31:37.494-08:00More Shiny Things<p style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmDCz13qmMA32Hbz6c-6Eu9NvIz40kz6Syc2QB2K1dS5MZXWHsmu88bAExx0GDfiWfBO4NuQ9fMKCI_GD2h3mJOH4SfbzCbSaiduLsGnKyI3n1MBNbh1rSBqvfInywr5XZ6U4t6Cebr4W5/s640/IMG_4917.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmDCz13qmMA32Hbz6c-6Eu9NvIz40kz6Syc2QB2K1dS5MZXWHsmu88bAExx0GDfiWfBO4NuQ9fMKCI_GD2h3mJOH4SfbzCbSaiduLsGnKyI3n1MBNbh1rSBqvfInywr5XZ6U4t6Cebr4W5/s320/IMG_4917.jpg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Even after an ice storm, <br />shiny things exist.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: x-large;"><span>This fall, as Bill and I departed for a trip, an ice storm was being predicted. I knew it would most likely kill my annuals and finish off tender perennials for the season. But I also believed even as that cold snap removed a lot of greenery from my yard, it would trigger the resplendent colors of fall. By the time we returned, our trees would be bedecked in their autumn regalia.</span><span> </span></span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: x-large;">Of course, this being 2020, that cold snap morphed into full-fledged ice-mageddon. Bill and I rode out the storm in a condo in Virginia (talk about good timing!), while a helpful neighbor kept us abreast of developments at home: ice-laden limbs crashing onto lawns and roofs; decades-old tree trunks splitting as if cleaved by an icy maul; ice coatings on power lines depriving many of electricity. And if all that weren’t tragic enough, the hateful ice rendered two-year-old Emma’s tree swing inoperable. </span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEic4r7skggHsThH2At72TEApFWO6Y2uZJpjBSgurMp8JSIfdZOLDo2XPDibiy7tsvVA6kkby3UZRsYG7RGx1YjsXsr4uIwCZusJWDOCy2c6DzFQMKhkh6P0ddgyQu7CjHiTlQ_H9PFnCRgW/s640/IMG_4892.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: x-large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEic4r7skggHsThH2At72TEApFWO6Y2uZJpjBSgurMp8JSIfdZOLDo2XPDibiy7tsvVA6kkby3UZRsYG7RGx1YjsXsr4uIwCZusJWDOCy2c6DzFQMKhkh6P0ddgyQu7CjHiTlQ_H9PFnCRgW/w150-h200/IMG_4892.jpg" width="150" /></span></a></div><span style="font-family: times; font-size: x-large;">Returning at night from our trip, we saw in the car’s headlights great bundles of branches my industrious neighbors had already gathered and piled along the curbs. My heart sank as I determined there would be no foliage fantasy to<br />enjoy this autumn. It wouldn’t be the first fall that Oklahoma trees went straight from green to brown to bare, but it’s always disappointing when that happens.</span><br /><p></p><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">On our first morning home, I woke early (to vote) and expected to see nothing but dead leaves littering the ground and jagged limbs hanging from stripped trees. To my great </span><span style="font-size: x-large;">relief, I discovered the storm had done some damage but it hadn’t turned my entire community into an apocalyptic wasteland. While the trees in our own yard suffered heavy blows, elsewhere determined leaves clung bravely to undamaged branches. In the sun, the leaves glowed in brilliant tones of gold, orange, and red. The fact they’d survived the storm made them all the more beautiful and appreciated. <a href="http://www.deedeechumley.com/2020/05/keep-looking-for-shiny-things.html">Shiny things</a> indeed.</span></p><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwq6sOyPaJvoSuqgeAcsYCoL4gl3s8i-cSm1peLZs3N0uMsyxjo84cUjARpEkaa4JSVxSgoRxBKPkMaSKpatI5y66AwzkBFwlC9hzXS_-1Om7kzWnpwy1-tCDciua_KcLQ37Yb787-nYmW/s640/IMG_4899.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwq6sOyPaJvoSuqgeAcsYCoL4gl3s8i-cSm1peLZs3N0uMsyxjo84cUjARpEkaa4JSVxSgoRxBKPkMaSKpatI5y66AwzkBFwlC9hzXS_-1Om7kzWnpwy1-tCDciua_KcLQ37Yb787-nYmW/s320/IMG_4899.jpg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">While the flowering plum in our<br />yard didn't fare very well ...</td></tr></tbody></table><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaP8PRXXWv2r375CZWynGJMsejqZZrd6j1J_iGnRkB596zhBGL8gQmuxVyGAVtIH32dvFuincFjQyCUyVQBnSTu-wVWH0Va48j_yF9IuMFQb6Qd-_4WXY-A6bGM9kQ0YyA7GZUiRVaqLp5/s640/IMG_4908.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="605" data-original-width="640" height="302" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaP8PRXXWv2r375CZWynGJMsejqZZrd6j1J_iGnRkB596zhBGL8gQmuxVyGAVtIH32dvFuincFjQyCUyVQBnSTu-wVWH0Va48j_yF9IuMFQb6Qd-_4WXY-A6bGM9kQ0YyA7GZUiRVaqLp5/w320-h302/IMG_4908.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">... in other areas trees put on spectacular shows.</td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9Z6uGeOugYfXv_PX999MwHliEnQ-wnMc-A2IAx9ZJNMMi-DGiRJA-QG6sKBEuq7cExj4657g52Fy4BrcYb3N1buo0rkWk59JFGLvSyq4DLJDsQoA9TbqYHJf6rQ_j-9G97b6XexWYBjsg/s640/IMG_4925.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="463" data-original-width="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9Z6uGeOugYfXv_PX999MwHliEnQ-wnMc-A2IAx9ZJNMMi-DGiRJA-QG6sKBEuq7cExj4657g52Fy4BrcYb3N1buo0rkWk59JFGLvSyq4DLJDsQoA9TbqYHJf6rQ_j-9G97b6XexWYBjsg/s320/IMG_4925.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">And in Hafer Park, the storm hadn't<br />damaged my favorite tree!</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">On a walk, I attempted to capture the fall splendor surrounding me. </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">I </span></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: x-large;">stood </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: x-large;">in different spots and angled my </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: x-large;">camera this way and that for the best exposure. In the process of doing that, a thought occurred </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: x-large;">to me: In order for things to be </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: x-large;">shiny, they need light. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: x-large;">As we </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: x-large;">approach the end of a year that </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: x-large;">has cast more than its rightful </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: x-large;">share </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: x-large;">of shadows, </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: x-large;">let’s try to cast </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: x-large;">sparks of light--a smile, a compliment, a word of encouragement--that will illuminate </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: x-large;">shiny things for others.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: x-large;">PS Thinking I'd completed this post, I took another morning walk in the park with no intention of snapping more pictures. </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: x-large;">But . . . I came upon this "shiny thing" and couldn't resist. I know she'll make you smile!</span></div><div><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvmjrHQIp6O405qRnPw55-c3b9SMC9swMl2_wnXbDxpNQ71c2PQc6nhXnTxoqdGtTm4BNEt5x7xs_zYg8lkLIjzt4_3UPohGxwmGmPnsg284c2NShpF9V4vULzZe2iWyUV3Hi2vtz85WnM/s640/IMG_4939.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="299" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvmjrHQIp6O405qRnPw55-c3b9SMC9swMl2_wnXbDxpNQ71c2PQc6nhXnTxoqdGtTm4BNEt5x7xs_zYg8lkLIjzt4_3UPohGxwmGmPnsg284c2NShpF9V4vULzZe2iWyUV3Hi2vtz85WnM/s320/IMG_4939.jpg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Say hello to Sadie, an<br />adorable poodle/English sheep-<br />dog mix. </td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><br /></p></div>Dee Deehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05075414876444998775noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6229818391094949327.post-51420922900638423132020-10-20T15:53:00.000-07:002020-10-20T15:53:30.359-07:00New Tricks<p><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></p><span style="font-size: large;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHk1TuhjdzeoBqUvCRBVj5ZkuqanOQshUF0bsX3nQKp1J3TL3o52UntfKzucUrwTqbj_Q66FzJNZOxLwo9SJC7VesBdEL-EIufnTrzGRJs09OK5tAMWpRdygBgQJ2a8F4iLEdFX0QhFV5N/s1920/dog-4977599_1920.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="1920" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHk1TuhjdzeoBqUvCRBVj5ZkuqanOQshUF0bsX3nQKp1J3TL3o52UntfKzucUrwTqbj_Q66FzJNZOxLwo9SJC7VesBdEL-EIufnTrzGRJs09OK5tAMWpRdygBgQJ2a8F4iLEdFX0QhFV5N/s320/dog-4977599_1920.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo credit: MarlyneArt on Pixabay<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br />“Make a trailer for your book,” she said. “It will be easy. It will be fun.” </span><div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"> And then, with a few clicks on her computer, the presenter shared an impressive collection of videos she’d created and posted to YouTube. Granted, they weren’t the stuff of Spielberg, but they were good. And they created interest in her books, which, after all, is the ultimate goal of a trailer. </span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;">I was hooked. I didn’t know her exact age but figured it was in the vicinity of mine. Also, my friend Shel Harrington—who admittedly is younger than I—is fearless in using social media. While I was contemplating a trailer, she’d already created her wildly popular Fat-Bottom-Fifties Get Fierce Facebook <a href="https://www.facebook.com/fatbottomfiftiesgetfierce/">Page</a> and a podcast. She also had a Facebook Live post in the works. And so, inspired by the can-do spirit of these two ladies, I took the plunge. </span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;">Before I even started, I told myself to be patient. I had a few Keynote presentations under my belt but not with all the bells and whistles I wanted to add to this project. I knew it would be a learning experience, but it couldn’t be that hard, right? </span></div><div><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;">Well . . . </span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;">Without going into a lot of detail, let me report that after endless hours of writing a blurb, locating photos (free ones, as this was a low-budget production), and listening to myriad clips of theme music and tinkling wind chimes, I was ready to assemble the presentation. </span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;">That might’ve been a lot easier if I hadn’t had to watch fifty YouTube tutorials, install two computer updates, figure out Dropbox, and learn to fix a glitch on the YouTube upload—all the while with those *&%# wind chimes tinkling maddeningly in the background. </span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;">But all’s well that ends well. I didn’t pull out a lot of hair (which I can ill afford to spare) or lose too much sleep in the process, and I learned lessons that should make my next presentation or trailer much easier. I’m pleased with my end result. It’s not perfect, but it’s not bad for a first try. You can judge for yourself in the link below. </span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;">Old dogs might require a bit more time and patience to learn new tricks, but the good news is that they <i>have</i> more time and patience. And there is another advantage old dogs enjoy: Perfection isn’t nearly as important as it used to be. </span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;">Whether you’re an old dog or a lively pup, what new tricks are you learning?
</span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;">Check out my trailer <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zqp-aw8kFYM">here</a>. </span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"> <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPoIdzTibU0_GxC-YmDizkGgGB97iMhPzizTnvJZAslTVwTsn1zTBluFwvHc7Awgfat1omsuFJEPCRO_5oCSfN8RskCzY7Z0EDZkGm82XqzxP8C_vQTO2b4MEiLQPAqx-dhzP3BhJr0QN2/s1440/Screen+Shot+2020-10-20+at+1.22.28+PM.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1440" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPoIdzTibU0_GxC-YmDizkGgGB97iMhPzizTnvJZAslTVwTsn1zTBluFwvHc7Awgfat1omsuFJEPCRO_5oCSfN8RskCzY7Z0EDZkGm82XqzxP8C_vQTO2b4MEiLQPAqx-dhzP3BhJr0QN2/s320/Screen+Shot+2020-10-20+at+1.22.28+PM.png" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /></span></div>Dee Deehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05075414876444998775noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6229818391094949327.post-60349729481008744722020-09-20T11:13:00.000-07:002020-09-20T11:13:24.497-07:00Jayber Crow and Contemplations on Community<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Times New Roman"; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgm0PBtGQiYFBAeLlACDPLy8HL3064MPpVn92AXlpwWorcghXLmTEWKlqzurxP-P0-2bxU444nd7iKHWkrg00Cy-4Z5xHXfwyxWtMvJApKRV5_YyAHNYE0nMObRw-5_CGxL8IAay4SX18vL/s640/IMG_4413.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgm0PBtGQiYFBAeLlACDPLy8HL3064MPpVn92AXlpwWorcghXLmTEWKlqzurxP-P0-2bxU444nd7iKHWkrg00Cy-4Z5xHXfwyxWtMvJApKRV5_YyAHNYE0nMObRw-5_CGxL8IAay4SX18vL/s320/IMG_4413.jpg" /></a></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"><i style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">Jayber Crow</i><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"> by Wendell Berry was published in 2000, but it has just recently appeared on my reading radar, thanks to my daughter first and then a couple of friends. Fellow reader Cheryl, who shares with me a love for books with a “strong sense of community,” says </span><i style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">Jayber Crow </i><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">offers much observation and wisdom on the subject. Since </span><i style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">community</i><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"> is my focus word for 2020, I determined to give the book a read.</span></span><p></p><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"></span></span></p><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><span style="font-size: large;">Jayber Crow, the eponymous barber of Port William, Kentucky, does indeed express a deep love and affection for his tiny community—the one that called to him as a lonely young man. Upon first arriving in Port William, he “… felt at home. There is more to this than I can explain. I just <i>felt</i> at home.” Years later, the time he has spent investing in the people, institutions, and well-being of the community have enabled him to verbalize his belongingness. “What I saw now was the community imperfect and irresolute but held together by the frayed and always fraying, incomplete and yet ever-holding bonds of the various sorts of affection…. It was a community always disappointed in itself, disappointing its members, always trying to contain its divisions and gentle its meanness, always failing and yet always preserving a sort of will toward goodwill. I knew that, in the midst of all the ignorance and error, this was a membership…” <span style="font-kerning: none;"></span></span></p><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"></span></span></p><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><span style="font-size: large;">Amid both the accepting and unreceptive residents of Port William, Jayber is able to find grace in and express gratitude for both the tragic and joyful events of his life. He has lived through the Great Depression as a foster child, an institutionalized orphan, and then a young man forced way too young to be on his own. While he could’ve very well allowed those hardships to define him, he draws on the strength and blessings of community to build a contented—though not fairy tale—existence for himself. With the help of generous friends, he fashions a life mindful of the grace that God through Christ has extended toward him. In return, he strives to extend generosity and grace toward others. “As for Troy Chatham, whose enemy I was for so many years … I have forgiven him too, even him…”<span style="font-kerning: none;"></span></span></p><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></p><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-size: large;">I read books for a variety of reasons: information, inspiration, insights, instruction. I also read for entertainment and escape. <i>Jayber Crow</i> provided all of these. It taught me history—in particular about the years from 1917 through the 1970s in rural Kentucky and about life during the depression and world wars. I garnered insights on land conservation, human nature, and religion. I developed a greater appreciation for the natural world and, of course, community. Jayber’s yarns about the happenings of Port William and the hijinks of its inhabitants entertained me and elicited many LOL moments.</span></span></p><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></p><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-size: large;">Mostly, though, this book inspired me. In this current time, when angst and uncertainty abound, <i>Jayber Crow</i> reminded me I have much to be thankful for, not the least of which are the communities of which I’m a part. I don’t live in a sleepy, closely connected hamlet like Port William, but I’m a part of several communities that offer me opportunities for learning, sharing, laughing, worshiping, growing. Communities that accept me and allow me to feel at home. Like Port William, they have their shortcomings, but that’s okay. I do, too. I wouldn’t feel at home amid perfection.</span></span></p><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></p><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-size: large;">If you’re looking for encouragement during these difficult times (and don’t mind if a story meanders a bit), I highly recommend <i>Jayber Crow</i>. </span></span></p><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><br /></p><p style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></p>Dee Deehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05075414876444998775noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6229818391094949327.post-51151253015173481742020-05-05T15:54:00.000-07:002020-05-05T15:54:12.399-07:00Keep Looking for the Shiny Things<div style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-size: large;">A few months ago, my niece shared a podcast with me in which Leif Enger, one of my favorite authors, discusses the value of story. This entertaining and inspiring podcast is geared mainly toward writers and writing, but the advice he gives also applies to the way we should approach life in general. I urge you to listen to the podcast (link below) to get the full message and benefit. All of his suggestions are excellent, but “look for the shiny things” especially resonated with me. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I’m a longtime lover of shiny things. I like sparkly jewelry, twinkling Christmas lights, fireworks . . . anything with glitter. I also like the figurative shiny things that don’t necessarily glow on their own but spark embers of joy within me. Practicing social distancing has enabled me to see shiny things abound in my life. Please allow me to share some recent ones with you.<span style="font-kerning: none;"></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">So many of my shiny things come to me while I'm walking I don't know why I don't do more of it. On an early spring walk through a local park, I saw these water park canopies peeking above greening treetops. As yellow tape barricaded silent playgrounds, the colorful canopies reminded me that at some point parks would be full of life again and kids could shout and play and splash in the summer sun. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"> <span style="font-size: large;">On another walk, I came upon this lilac bush. I wish I could add a scratch-n-sniff feature to this picture, as the scent was as lush as the blooms.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Another day, I ventured from my regular haunts with a friend, and discovered not only beautiful landscapes but also wildlife.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBqjwtjtXYx_weW_Zi3MDAUU9Z1ltmFP75Un_KQDKCXyXrOCnaTvY2D9t44Fr-uBWbON_A6tTSaDXizWuCxVyUWTz-Kmgg9nSfwjHJetyg7c1esSyEi0k-gw8Ft1WM_dLSozX8zpm8e7JP/s1600/trash.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1122" data-original-width="1125" height="319" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBqjwtjtXYx_weW_Zi3MDAUU9Z1ltmFP75Un_KQDKCXyXrOCnaTvY2D9t44Fr-uBWbON_A6tTSaDXizWuCxVyUWTz-Kmgg9nSfwjHJetyg7c1esSyEi0k-gw8Ft1WM_dLSozX8zpm8e7JP/s320/trash.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">A graceful crane taking flight and . . . </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeZ9qFX4Ij-Ji4EDwffUTtwOJrvOb7S9fXZGW4g3hitaSF-TbmzxKbof0oQkFyg0W62cAjm7gNevt4_5Tmw1Ivi3aPEt-W2eUwgxG-pzGBDf4RH1djhyphenhyphenyv4UcMiTbY6-gneSvWxwMdFAJ2/s1600/IMG_3771.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="894" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeZ9qFX4Ij-Ji4EDwffUTtwOJrvOb7S9fXZGW4g3hitaSF-TbmzxKbof0oQkFyg0W62cAjm7gNevt4_5Tmw1Ivi3aPEt-W2eUwgxG-pzGBDf4RH1djhyphenhyphenyv4UcMiTbY6-gneSvWxwMdFAJ2/s320/IMG_3771.jpg" width="223" /></a><span style="font-size: large;"> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">goslings! Can there be </span></span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">anything cuter except maybe . . .</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">a toddler practicing her running </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjN70okKXVL7Z4JozcQe4imO0TLmmHpZRgBUSgLHvkZyMmMC_DFzmzR_-X0YR7EyTjMJ2QXevSxwc3ZnxOuNv-y2ILPp0FXU_D2wUStJKcugN8WYmWHyB2vDN4wmCL7wlmORLcmwMKZUCef/s1600/Nell2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="574" data-original-width="640" height="287" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjN70okKXVL7Z4JozcQe4imO0TLmmHpZRgBUSgLHvkZyMmMC_DFzmzR_-X0YR7EyTjMJ2QXevSxwc3ZnxOuNv-y2ILPp0FXU_D2wUStJKcugN8WYmWHyB2vDN4wmCL7wlmORLcmwMKZUCef/s320/Nell2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">or her trike riding?</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">My little neighbor works hard</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">to keep up with her older brother.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">And don't you love her </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">shiny silver helmet?!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">Shiny things can be in your own front yard. I have a theory that God knew we'd be a little stressed this spring, so He made it especially glorious. I've had this peony bush for several years, and this spring it has twice as many buds as ever before. Every day--every hour--I check it to see if new blossoms have appeared.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">Shiny things come via the internet. Since my grandsons are in another state, they sent me a picture of their new pet, a bearded dragon named Ron. Never thought a lizard would qualify as a shiny thing in my life, but he has such a great smile I can't help but like him. As the saying goes: "Never say </span></span><i style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">never</span></i><span style="font-size: large; text-align: left;">."</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Other shiny things that came to me this past week: homemade apple bread from a friend, an unexpected thank you letter with a gift card, an email from a writer friend telling me she still thinks of my book from time to time and it helped her "recognize the humanity of people" in prison. Things just don't get any shinier than that!</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Now that social distancing restrictions are easing, at least for the summer, friends on social media are asking how we’ll continue to apply the knowledge we’ve acquired when things get back to normal—whatever that may be. It occurs to me that the best practices for surviving social distancing are also the best practices for surviving life at any time. Personally, I’ll keep looking for the shiny things. I hope you do, too.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: large;">Here is the link to the <a href="https://rabbitroom.com/2019/07/new-hutchmoot-podcast-episode-sailing-full-and-by/">podcast</a>. Give it a listen. I promise it will be a shiny thing in your day. And I </span><span style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: large;">would love to learn about the shiny things in your life. Please share them in the comments below or on Facebook.</span><br />
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Dee Deehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05075414876444998775noreply@blogger.com2