Facebook

I fought it for as long as I could. I think technology moves way to fast. Just when I think I am “on it” people start something else. I remember the day I learned to e-mail. I had been listening to people talk about it for at least a year and I was too intimidated to even ask what e-mail was. Okay…Now you know. I am old. I was in the first group of Baby Boomers who were fortunate enough to have a television (mostly because my dad sold appliances in the early 1950’s).

I watched Miss Frances’ Ding Dong School and Captain Kangaroo and Mr. Green Jeans. (and green was not about the environment) I guess he could have easily been Mr. Brown Jeans. Green, however, was colorful, and even though we all watched on our black and white TVs with rabbit ears, “green” gave us something to imagine.

But I digress. I am talking about Facebook.

It has opened up a whole new world for this old girl. My high school class recently celebrated their 40^th reunion…which I missed…and I mean I was not only absent but I MISSED and will remember that I MISSED forever. Most of us - 69 in number - went from first grade to twelfth grade together. From learning the ABC’S to Canterbury Tales, we did it together.

And for months we have been e-mailing and reconnecting and laughing over the ravages of time…laughing in a good way. I think we would all like 18 year old bodies with 50+ year old wisdom to go with them. So it is not going to happen. Even so, it is fun…really fun…and life-giving to look back and see the relationships that encompass decades.

We share the same history and the same memories and it is just…beyond words. I understand, from my two hour conversation this morning with my friend Ellen, that the tears were more like sobs in the parting and the togetherness at this season of life had nothing at all to do with anybody trying to impress anybody else. Our class was one, and more than ever, we were FOR eachother. Oh, how I missed it and yet don’t feel like I completely missed it because of Facebook and the pictures and stories we have shared.

I think our class is much like heaven is going to be. Okay…we will probably meet a few surprise residents J, but the joy over being together and knowing we will never ever be separated again…is that a great thought or what?

On the Road Again

Pat Pierce, President of the UMW at Crawford Street, Marilyn, and Phyliis Cowart, Vice President

I had a great time yesterday in Vicksburg speaking to the Crawford Street United Methodist Women at their Fall Membership Luncheon. It was very much a Mississippi gathering – you know when Southern girls get together, we always play, “Who do you know that I know?” Or….as our mothers taught us to always ask, “And who ah yo-wer peopul?” If we talk long enough we can always find a distant cousin somewhere. That’s one of the best things about being Southern.

I used my revised version of my talk on the Five Lessons I Never Meant to Learn. It seems there are always women who can easily identify. I know something about myself, and I am wondering if it is a universal girl thing. I was a very good student in school. I could definitely learn the material and take the test. But don’t ask me anything a week later about the material. Once I got my A, I seemed to completely forget the facts, figures, and anything else pertaining to the test. It was all about the A. So could we say I really learned anything?

Life lessons, however, are a different thing altogether - the ones that knocked me to my knees and left me feeling like there was a gaping hole where once there was a heart…well…I can remember those. I find that I am not strange. Most women feel the same way. I also notice that as nice as it is to be able to call up names and dates from long ago history tests during a game of Trivial Pursuit, the long term effects of a lesson well learned and indelibly written on one’s soul, is even better. Those kinds of lessons help us become a little better than we might have been at People skills and at hearing God’s soft voice in the middle of a very chaotic busy daily routine. I have discovered this fact, too. All women have “stuff-“ heart stuff that hurts.

I realized the other day that the one thing I do like about getting older is that when I sing “Faith of our Fathers,” it is no longer someone else’s faith I sing about. It is mine, too…that thought alone soothes the aging process in ways you can’t appreciate till you get there.

I am gearing up for a trip to Maine next week. Just wait till you see my pictures and hear about my trip. If you are into praying for a prodigal publisher, would you pray that I do not have to spend any nights in the airport and that all my flights depart and arrive on time….That almost sounds like a fairytale like “And they all lived happily ever after” after my last experience. (See Lucy and Ethel Take a Road Trip)

Update on Walker Dog: He got a great report at his last visit to the vet. I think Betsy is into cherishing every second with this sweet furry friend. He even got a pass on chemotherapy last week. We’ll see what this week brings. Will update you. God bless.

Tears, Cheers and HOPE

First of all, an update on my ‘grand-dog’, Walker may have a little “cat” in him – as in nine lives. He had his first chemotherapy last Thursday, tolerated it well, and Betsy is encouraged. The vet says this series of several chemos could mean another year or so of life without pain. If you are not a dog-lover, please stop reading now. You will think we are all nuts at my house.

If you are a dog-lover, read on. You understand.

Have you ever run across the bumper sticker that says, “Oh, Lord, help me be the person my dog thinks I am.” Well, it is not sacrilegious. You have to have been loved by a dog to appreciate the truth in those words.

I, for one, think God can use anything and anyone to teach us lessons that go deep into our souls. When it comes to love in a completely pure way…as one dog-lover to another (since all non-dog-lovers stopped reading at end of sentence #5) does this or does this not make sense? I think most of God’s most profound points He really wants us to grasp during our temporary tenure here on earth involve simple truths – like it feels really good to love and be loved back.

My dog, Daisy, affectionately called the “chemotherapy dog” (the one BETSY found at Corgi Rescue to help me through the chemotherapy I never had) sits beside me when I cry…and I think I mentioned in the magazine recently that I long ago perfected the art of crying. There’s good crying and bad crying. I am a master of both.

You know – sunrises, sunsets…music…good cry. Death, heartbreak…bad cry.

A lot of my crying in this era of life involves being overwhelmed by “the list” of self-imposed “shoulds” and “oughts.” I never seem to complete those guilt inducing categories in any given day, and it is frustrating. I keep getting interrupted by life. Even so, there is some lingering something inside me that bases my worth on how many things I can successfully check off the list of “TO DO TODAY.”

But to come home at night, feeling incredibly inadequate because I failed to get through “the list” and find Daisy waiting at the back door helps me let go of the wounds the day has inflicted!

I read something recently that said when it comes to “balance’ and “time management” Jesus was probably one of the worst ever at planning out the day and having everything fall into place…..”Let’s see from 9 to 10 I will heal the lepers. From 10 – 11 , I will heal the blind…etc. etc. “

He kept getting interrupted by life and crowds and unanticipated “stuff.” I know, I know. If He was God the Son, he knew ahead of time there would be detours, but I think he felt like he had to walk through those doors just to show us how to do it, too – how to let the list go at times and focus on the moment, the needs around us, and just be there.

Life is not a big circle that can be divided into equal parts so that we are balanced people. A big circle divided perfectly would work great if it were not for…real life.

I am thinking I might prefer passion over balance any day…just let me have passion for the things that are God’s passion . Passion seems closer to abundant living than being a bean counter or a list checker…you think?

For the Love of D.O. G.

My cell phone rang late the other night. Nobody calls me on my cell phone late at night or early in the morning except my daughter Betsy…and never when the news is good. In between sobs, she told me that her ten year old Black Lab was having difficulty breathing and a trip to the animal emergency clinic revealed a large tumor around his heart. The cancer was definitely in his lymph nodes as well. He was in pain and the vet’s advice was to put him down.

He spent the night at the hospital and she was to pick him up the next morning to take him to his regular vet to do what she did not think she could bear to do.

You all know Betsy as one of our Single Still Single Again columnists. Her life is rarely dull. Sometimes it seems like her best friends are named Crisis and Drama. In between those two events, however, she can keep a room alive telling her real life stories that keep us all laughing.

But all I could do was cry with her the other night. I searched for the consoling things a mother is supposed to just be wise enough to say, but I could not find any words at all. My heart so hurt for her as the invisible movie screen in my mind played flashback memories of this dog my daughter so loved.

It was in her senior year of undergraduate school at Samford that I entered her apartment and saw a huge wire kennel in the middle of her living room. I sent up an SOS prayer, “Oh, Lord, please let this dog belong to Betsy’s roommate,” but I knew better from the very beginning.

Walker had come from the Birmingham Pound and was almost small enough to sleep in one of Betsy’s shoes…when he wasn’t chewing them up, that is. He grew to be the size of a small black bear and I never understood how petite Betsy managed to “walk” him. My one attempt at walking Walker required an ambulance ride to the hospital, a cat scan, two broken front teeth, and more. It wasn’t that he was bad…he was just enthusiastic about life and completely unaware of his size or strength.

He did not like having to ride in the backseat when I visited. When Betsy was in grad school in Tuscaloosa, the entire staff at the local McDonald’s looked forward to Walker’s weekly drive-thru visit for his Happy Meal.

Betsy and Walker have been inseparable this last decade. Walker has comforted her when there was no human being in sight to comfort her. Through boyfriends, several career changes, numerous interesting roommates, several surgeries, and a close call with the MRSA staph, Walker has been there.

But Betsy has been there for Walker, too. I will never forget the time he was hit by a car and she was on 280 with Walker on the backseat, sobbing into the cell phone to me as I stood in my kitchen 250 miles away that she could not remember where the animal emergency clinic was and could I please call 911 in Birmingham and get the directions for her. It was touch and go that weekend - IV’s and internal bleeding, but I firmly believe Walker’s sheer will to be with Betsy worked in his favor. He was just not ready to think she could handle life without him.

The second vet has given him a special medicine to buy a little time although he tells Betsy it is very little time – maybe days. Walker is eating, showing some responsiveness, and even played with his Lab friends Luke and Maggie yesterday. I am amazed that Betsy can be so brave knowing the inevitable outcome. But she wants that time with her faithful friend, and I so understand.

It’s just one of life’s ironies that something that brings so much joy can bring so much pain as well – I am talking about love. It’s really very dangerous to love – to give your heart away with such abandon – whether to another person or to that pet whose love is about as pure and unconditional as any love God ever allowed us to know. I think the term “broken heart” is just the perfect description because letting someone precious go does indeed leave a heart feeling shattered into pieces.

But you know what? I would rather live dangerously and cherish the good times than to be safe and miss the joy of love given and received.

…But the greatest of these is love…I Corinthians 13:13b

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Ethel and Lucy Take a Road Trip

To all of my fellow “Fly-by-the-seat-of your-pants” buddies out there, I have an epiphany. Here goes: Being organized is way overrated.

Anybody who really knows me is now incredulous. I have written with longing about an organized life for the last seven years. No more. I am done with that dream and I am kissing the guilt good-bye.
It seemed like a great idea last April when contributing writer and close friend, Kristi Brown, suggested we sign up for the “She Speaks” conference in Charlotte, North Carolina. The conference is pricey, but we had lots of frequent flyer miles, so why not cash in and go? This was an opportunity to pitch the books we are writing to publishers, hear from some seasoned speakers and writers on the “how to’s” of our craft, and – hey – I am always up for a good girl trip.

For somebody like me who is “organizing challenged,” even my step-daughter Jill, who is the queen of organization could not have done the prep work any better. My suitcase was packed two nights ahead of time, my book proposal with first three chapters were sorted in appropriate folders, and Charles did all the cooking for at least a week so I could focus on my presentation. I even went to bed early the night before – for my brain function and because I read that wrinkles diminish when one looks rested. Whatever. It seemed to make sense at the time.

Kristi and I, with fresh manicures, pedicures, and the “right” business casual wardrobes, even booked our flights a day before the conference really started just so we could be rested, perky, and alert.
On my way to the airport, Kristi called to let me know Delta had canceled our flight and rebooked us on a flight for the NEXT DAY! We agreed that was not acceptable, so we searched about and discovered we could fly out of Columbus late that afternoon. The object was, of course, to arrive in Charlotte in time for bed.

So we were off…finally…only to land in Atlanta and find that our flight to Charlotte had already taken off, and due to weather, there would be no more flights out of Atlanta until Friday morning. I was astounded at sweet Kristi Brown’s assertiveness. I thought I might have to restrain her at one point as she explained to the ticket agent that this situation was simply unacceptable. The only result of all of our frustration was that he handed us both the “overnight emergency kit” which contained a Delta Airlines T-shirt, a toothbrush and a miniscule packet of toothpaste – and we are talking MIN-I-SCULE.


Trying to pep-talk each other and convince ourselves this was not so terrible, we rushed to the restroom to brush our teeth. There was not enough toothpaste to do more than brush our front teeth, so our other toothies just had to make the best of it.

I am a lipstick and earrings kind of girl. I don’t much like to sleep straight up in an airport vinyl chair in the clothes I have worn for 16 hours, mascara smeared like raccoon eyes, and this sensation that my teeth are covered in something slimy. At 4:30 am, we gave up on sleep, ate greasy food at the only place open at that hour and tried hard not to stare at the strange assortment of fellow stranded passengers. I was just about tired enough to have lost any semblance of good judgment, and I was considering interviewing a few folks about their tattoos and their strange choice of anatomical body piercings. But Kristi convinced me I would regret that choice later. So I did not.

On the way to our long awaited departure to Charlotte, we got a great tour of every terminal in the Atlanta airport since Delta chose to change our departure gate AND terminal about six times between 5 a.m. and 7:20 a.m.

My enormous purse that was also holding my laptop had gained about ten pounds since the day before and my cute shoes that should be against the law to wear anyway were hurting my feet so much that I had developed half-dollar sized blisters on the balls of both my feet. I asked Kristi if she would mind pushing me if I could just locate a wheel chair, but we never did.
I think I am done with travel for a while. Wonder what lesson I was supposed to learn in this adventure besides always take a tube of toothpaste in your purse and avoid the Atlanta airport at all costs.

I know well the scriptures on being thankful in all circumstances. Even though I failed miserably Thursday night, I know one more thing about myself.
I handle the significant crises of life a lot better than the minor inconveniences. I think most of us do.

God is still working on me. Maybe one day, I will get the heart, the brain, and the mouth to work in sync. They just can’t get their act together.

Puts a smile in my day

Charles, granddaughter Katie and me at the store.

My Colorado Grandchildren: Sutton (4 months), Allie (4/12), and Charlotte (17 months)

CONFIDENCE or confidence??????

Charles left for the Atlanta market this morning. He was waffling till the last second – needing to go but wishing he felt more passionate about the whole shopping for inventory experience. Daisy, Thurber, and I did our favorite Saturday morning thing – reading the Wall Street Journal. Well, I confess that, despite their intelligence, they really have not learned to read, but they do love Saturday morning and the slower pace…because it’s the only day of the week I go quite so slow. I love to read Peggy Noonan. She is an incredible writer even though I don’t always like what she has to say. She is not into Sarah Palin from what I read today. Bothered me a little.

Then I swept up the dog hair that seems to accumulate by the second. It is noon and I am in pure ecstasy – sitting with my computer, wearing my pajamas and talking to my dogs. Once upon a time, that was my total ambition. Then I learned that God is great at taking whatever minute morsel of your life you offer Him and working that Ephesians 3:20 formula – “the beyond all you ask , think, imagine or dream” – idea on your pitiful little don’t- expect- anything- special kind of life.

The Mississippi heat is stifling. I sadly confess that I spend at least thirty minutes of every day bemoaning the bad hair day that is a certainty in the Mississippi humidity. I can count on a run of bad hair days from now till mid October. Pitiful, I know. I confess, too that my guilty feelings are bigger than Dolly Parton’s hair – because I did promise God during my Breast Cancer experience that I would never ever complain about a bad hair day again. One more reason for me to recall grace and to remind myself we can’t ever expect to do “good” enough to earn a crumb’s worth of the “wonderful” He is forever doling out to us.

I am going to try ( key word…”try”) to be a really good steward of these two days without Charles. I am working on my book proposal praying someone besides my children and step-children who will receive copies as gifts will buy a copy. I am also hoping to do some real reading and thinking. Life does come at me fast and there are way too many hours of every day I spend in busy work that Uncle Sam requires or the sheer mechanics of business dictate. It is hard to keep up with my Jesus thoughts if my heart and soul are running on “empty.”

I have a constant laugh with several friends about the following. I guess I am pretty Southern tried and true – and tongue in cheek, I joke that I really thought I was meant to be a princess, but nobody but me ever got the memo. Well, what I guess I really mean by all that foolishness, is most of us girls yearn for SOMEBODY to take care of the unpleasant realities like bank accounts, financial statements, profit and loss information, and all those scary components of business. God is forever treating me like a Mama Eagle who nudges her babies out of the nest. He gives me challenges and then promises to supply my strength and my need. Just as he nudges me over the edge, and I close my eyes and panic, He swoops beneath my flailing arms to provide His safety net…just an incredible reminder that He has engraved my name on the palms of His hands and He is in charge…and I am thrilled because I do not want to be in charge of anything harder than putting the bread in the toaster tomorrow morning. I am glad He knows my address, my e-mail, and my cell phone number. Psalm 139 says, “Where can I go from your Spirit? Where shall I flee from your presence?’ Whew…I like that whole idea. So glad He’s an always there God.