Category: Uncategorized (Page 38 of 188)

Years in the life, life in the years

This weekend I celebrated love with a couple from my childhood church who will be married for 70 years tomorrow. 70. That’s longer than a lot of people live on earth, let alone with another person in the same home. 70 years. 

Then I celebrated the life of a woman who lived 96 years. 96! That’s a lot of years on earth. She lived well even until the very end, fully aware and making her own decisions. 96 years. 
Then tonight I stood in the parking lot, mourning with a friend whose husband had left after 22 years. 22. She never saw it coming. 
I wish there was a secret. A formula. A few rules to follow so I could solidify my future into the 70 or 96 camp. But I don’t know of such rules because they probably don’t exist. As much as I like to help write my own story in life, I realize that I’m not the author, I’m the character. I don’t choose when or how the ending comes. 
So I celebrate. And I mourn. And I pray. I live into this day the best I can. 

The efficacy of self-sufficiency

Faux-yogurt and faux-creamer. That’s all I needed from Kroger (as Meijer’s selection of dairyless necessities runs pretty slim). Okay, and cilantro. Obviously, I use the self-checkout. Welcome to Kro-ger, it greets me. 

And then I have one kid trying to lean on the shopping bag holder. Please remove the last item from the bagging area. Another kid pulls a balloon attached to an entire box of Slim Jims. Please check your item and scan again. And then the cilantro… type in alternate ID. Invalid ID. Wait! What’s the other prompt for the 5-digit number? 
The 19-year-old at the kiosk only had to visit my little computer 3 times. I thought about saying “thank you” in a foreign language so he wouldn’t credit my IQ level to my behavior. 
Part of me wonders why Kroger even installed such gadgets, because they’re never faster than waiting in line, even those expressly marked “express.” Hands down, the Kroger employees can remember that bananas are 4066 far easier than I can find the little blue sticker. And it’s not a magic touch to get the scanner to read your Plus card. It’s learned skill. 
I need the friendly Kroger associate in my life to make my grocery shopping experience go smoothly. I might be able to do it all myself, but that doesn’t mean it’s effective or efficient. It means I’m stubborn. Over-confident. Perhaps a tad zealous. 
It probably stems from our standard American patterns of life, how we picked up a notion that anything that is to be done, I can do better myself. Please don’t bag my groceries – I can do it myself. Please don’t take my coat – I’ll hang it myself. For heaven’s sake don’t cream my coffee (I’m looking at you, McDonalds) – I’ll take care of that myself. 
What if – what if! – the people offering to serve us actually have a clue how to do things better. That our self-sufficiency is a fallacy created only to make us feel better. I’ll stand in Maryann’s line at Meijer and race anyone in the self-service area and win every time (not to mention hear how wonderful my kids are!). But the self-checkers like to feel better. The control is in their own hands, so if it takes longer, it doesn’t feel like it because I’m in control
Looking around, specifically at my generation, I think it would be in our best interest to let those who know, do. At work, at the grocery, and even in our inner lives. Believe it or not, wisdom exists outside of our own experience. And it’s even better than what we can do for ourselves.
This is why I take yoga classes, rather than simply moving through some poses at home. The teacher corrects me when my tummy doesn’t tuck under or my neck gets juxtaposed. This is why JJ ordered the special piece for the van door and shipped it to Brent, as opposed to using the YouTube video guidance. 
And it’s why I show up on Sunday mornings and actually talk to people about what is going on in my life. Specifically those who have walked this path before I ever put on my shoes. And that message being preached? No, it’s not just because the “church needs money.” It’s because the one presenting it has been scanning groceries for 23 years now and knows a thing or two about keeping your bread from getting squished. 
I can try a few different methods of bagging, but I can’t hold anyone accountable but myself when I end up with broken eggs and it takes me twice as long to get out the door.  
It’s admirable to pull ourselves up by our little bootstraps. We can do it all by ourselves. But that doesn’t mean we should
Thank you for shopping at Kro-ger

And a child shall lead them…

Sure, there are days. Like today. When I stomp my feet more than once to get everyone’s attention. When I nearly leave a grocery cart full of food in the middle of the aisle and head home because someone insists on kicking another while the third hangs from her seat reaching for every single box of ziploc baggies in her armspan. When lunch for 2 of them consists of carrots and hummus dip end. of. story. because they refuse to eat the perfectly delicious leftover sloppy joe or chicken fried rice in front of them. (And someone please remind me that this is actually a win for mama. They’re eating carrots.). 

Days like that happen. 
And then we get ready for bed and the eldest throws a fit because no one is left to help him pick up the bath toys because everyone else had followed directions. And sweet, beautiful Miss M waits patiently in the bed for a story to be delivered. So H boy asks her would you please help me pick up the toys?
Yes, sure. She bounds out of bed. 
Or when Lady C gets frustrated because words escape her and instead of asking for her regular seat at the table she gets Miss M in a headlock and all-out WAILS on her. 
She never hit back
Each day a childish action of contention makes my blood boil. And each day a childlike expression of love reminds me to be patient. The goodness is in there. Seeds of love have long been planted. We might have to do a bit of weeding along the way, but good fruit is growing
We end each day with a prayer, usually thanking God for the people in our family, Abbie (at least 5x), bugs & worms & blood, dinner and at least 5 of the objects in the room. The prayer wraps up when we say, “and help me be more like Jesus, Amen.” 
Last night I told Miss M, “when you help H – that’s what it means to be more like Jesus.” When she doesn’t hit back, that’s more like Jesus. When she chooses love and patience over selfishness and immediate gratification, that’s more like Jesus
God, help me be more like M, who is more like Jesus
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