Choices

I started my Spring cleaning this week. 

Aside from the normal cleaning I do each week, once a year I get out the toothbrush and really scrub the place down.  I am not a whirlwind cleaner so it takes me a few weeks to get it all done.  Why so long?  Because I don’t let cleaning get in the way of other things I like to do, such as spending time with Rick, getting on the computer, writing my blog, watching my favorite TV shows, reading my Nook, and occasionally getting out of the RV so I won’t become a hermit.  Besides, cleaning is work and you do remember that I am retired.

My Spring cleaning begins with reorganizing.  Reorganizing can take a lot of time, especially since I have 37 cabinets, 24 drawer, and 7 closets to deal with.  But this is the part of Spring cleaning that I like the best.  It is so satisfying when you’re done and everything is neat and in order again.  It’s also an opportunity to see again some precious things I tucked away for safe keeping.

I started in the bedroom this week (11 cabinets, 11 drawers, 3 closets).  I unloaded every cabinet, drawer and closet (not all at the same time) to see what I had, what I wanted to keep, what I wanted to give away and what I wanted to toss in the trash.  My bed was covered with stuff.  As I went through everything, I came across a few items that made me stop and reminisce.

Tucked away in my office drawer with paper clips, pens, stapler, etc. and underneath everything, I found some cards I had received (from my mom, my son, my sister-in-law Debbie, my friend Barb), our wedding napkin (it says, Our Wedding Day, Pat and Rick, February 3^rd, 1989), a note Rick wrote to me (it starts out, To My True Love…gosh he can be so romantic sometimes), and two quotes that I liked enough to write down on paper.

One quote is by Joseph Epstein and says, “All men and women are born, live, suffer and die; what distinguishes us one from another is our dreams, whether they be dreams about worldly or unworldly things, and what we do to make them come about. We do not choose to be born. We do not choose our parents. We do not choose our historical epoch, the country of our birth, or the immediate circumstances of our upbringing. We do not, most of us, choose to die; nor do we choose the time and conditions of our death. But within this realm of choicelessness, we do choose how we live.”

I really like this.  On the one hand it takes the pressure off because I didn’t have a choice in beginning my life.  But on the other hand it puts the pressure on because now that I am, I must be.  I must choose my own path.  I must create and fulfill my own dreams.  So profound.

Just yesterday I was on Facebook trading comments with a former classmate from Junior High and High School.  We were talking about our days in Junior High School.  We were picking songs from that time that had meaning to us back then.  My choice was, We Gotta Get Out Of This Place, a 1965 song by the Animals. I was just fourteen. 

At fourteen, I wanted to grow up too fast—get through school, drive a car, get a job, get married.  I wanted it all.  However, I didn’t always think things through.  I didn't always make good choices.  I sometimes made bad decisions and sometimes let my peers make decisions for me, and not all of them were good ones.  Looking back today I see where I went off my path.  I didn’t dream big enough.  I didn’t demand more from myself.  I settled for what I thought I could attain on my own power when I should have looked to others for guidance.  Maybe that was me just being fourteen.  I don't know.  There was no manual for me to go by.  Am I sorry?  No.  It was my choice and I believe I’ve had a pretty good life.  Could it have been different?  Yes.  Better?  Who knows.  What I do know is that I am happy where I am and that is all that matters.

The other quote I found in my office drawer says, “From the outside looking in, it’s impossible to understand.  From the inside looking out, it’s impossible to explain.” 

Yep, that’s my life in a nutshell.

 ~ P

The Cat Who...

Anyone who knows me knows I love cats. I would have more of them if it weren’t for litter boxes, hairballs and the fact that my husband Rick says two are enough. That said, I sometimes get my cat fix by reading about them.

My mother is an avid reader and so am I. She will occasionally send me books to read that she thinks are good. They are usually about cats. She has sent me Dewey, The Library Cat and Homer’s Odyssey, a story about a blind cat. They were both fun to read. But the books my mother thought were really good were The Cat Who books, written by Lilian Jackson Braun.  So good that Mom sent me 28 of the 29 books in the series.

The Cat Who books are mystery novels featuring a reporter named Qwilleran and his two Siamese cats, Koko and Yum-Yum. The books titles all begin with the words The Cat Who. The Cat Who Could Read Backwards, The Cat Who Sniffed Glue, and The Cat Who Talked to Ghosts are some of the titles. All the books follow a similar storyline with a murder or crime of some sort and Koko helping Qwilleran solve the mystery. Qwilleran believes Koko has a 6^th sense and that is why he can help solve these mysteries. Qwilleran attributes this to the fact that Koko has a total of 60 whiskers while ordinary cats only have 48. I once tried counting Lucky’s and Halle’s whiskers to see if they were “ordinary” but they wouldn’t sit still long enough for me to count and I kept losing my place. I enjoyed reading the entire series (except the last one, which my mother didn’t like so she never sent it to me).

Now that you know the premise of The Cat Who books, I need your help solving my own Cat Who mystery.  I assure you no murder or crime is involved.  My cat Halle is The Cat Who Likes To Lick Plastic. She seems to like Wal-Mart grocery bags, zip lock storage baggies and the plastic that surrounds a case of water. This last one is her favorite, but that just might be because it is kept on the floor and easily available to her.  When she’s not eating, sleeping or looking out the window, Halle can be found licking plastic wherever she may find it.

Halle getting her "fix" from plastic

Can all that plastic licking really be good for her?  I have tried stopping her by saying, “No Halle.” But that doesn’t deter her. She will stop for a few moments then as soon as my focus moves on to something else, she starts up again.

Halle licking a zip lock baggie I keep receipts in

My online search for an answer led me to some reasonable and some pretty wild explanations such as, cats like the noise it makes when they lick it; plastic bags are made from corn and cats like the taste; they have OATD—Overactive Tongue Disorder and will lick most anything. These all sound somewhat reasonable to me, but my favorite one is that our cats want us to think they are crazy. It's all part of the kitty plan for world domination.

So what do you think? Noise? Smell? OATD? Or do you believe Halle is planning world domination?  To be honest, I think Lucky and Halle have already established domination here in their little part of the world. Whatever the reason, Halle seems content to lick plastic so I think I’ll just ignore this strange habit of hers and get on with my day.  Who am I to judge.

~ P

John Wayne and Jesus

Previously, I posted about a dream I had.  My dreams pale in comparison to the dreams Rick has.  Rick’s dreams are sometimes very vivid and detailed.  He can recite word for word what happened, who was there, what everyone was doing and saying.  Last year he had two dreams that stand out among the rest.

The first is his John Wayne dream.  Rick is a big fan.  Rick has often said if he could talk to anyone dead or alive, it would be John Wayne.  He can almost recite word for word some of John’s movies, especially The Sons of Katie Elder.  It is Rick’s favorite.  Here is his dream.

Rick is spending the day with John Wayne.  John asks Rick if he wants to go with him to his ranch in Colorado to check on his cattle and horses.  Apparently, Dean Martin told John the Feds were coming around collecting back taxes on their movie The Sons of Katie Elder and they had already taken Dean’s horses.  John was afraid they would take his cattle and horses so he and Rick flew up to the ranch (with John as the pilot of his own jet plane) to check things out.  Everything is okay at the ranch and all his animals are still there.  Then Rick says to John, “My wife wants to know why you walk so prissy.” (I have said to Rick in the past that I thought John Wayne had a prissy walk.) John tells Rick it is because he spent so many years riding horses in the movies that it messed up his hip.  The dream ends. 

The second dream Rick had was his dream about Jesus.  This one was really special.  Here is what he dreamed.

Rick is standing outside a building.  There’s a man sitting up against the building.  Rick goes over to talk to him.  He is dressed in a robe with a hood and his hair is long and brown.  The man has only one leg. 

Rick asks the man, “What happened to your leg?”  The man answers, “Rick, you know I was nailed to the cross.”  With that the man stands up on two legs and Rick realizes he is talking to Jesus.  (We know that Jesus died with both of his legs so we are not sure of the significance of this.)  Jesus says to Rick, “Tell everyone that I am coming soon and they must tell everyone they know.” 

The scene switches to inside the building.  There is a big revival going on, bigger than a Billy Graham revival meeting.  Thousands of people are coming down to accept Jesus as their savior.  The person preaching the revival is Greg Hutchinson.  (Greg is a friend of ours who is the youth pastor at the church we went to when we lived in Lewisville, Texas.)  Rick sees people there at the revival that he knows from his home town, some of them are deceased, the most important one being his mother who passed away in 2000.

The scene switches again to Rick’s family home in Gorman, Texas.  At the house he sees his mother again and several other people he knows, who are also deceased.  He doesn’t talk to any of them, but he sees their faces clearly.  The dream ends.

When Rick woke up from his dream, his pillow was wet with tears.  He told me the dream was so real and he didn’t want it to end.  A few days later Rick called Greg and told him about the dream.  He thought maybe the dream was a message for Greg.  Rick and Greg talked about the dream and what it could possibly mean.  Rick asked Greg if he really could have been talking to Jesus.  Greg says, “Yes, it is possible.”

I believe God does talk to us through our dreams.  Acts 2:17 references Joel 2:28 (important enough to be in the Bible twice) which says,

In the last days, God says,
I will pour out my Spirit on all people.
Your sons and daughters will prophesy,
your young men will see visions,
your old men will dream dreams. Acts 2:17 NIV

You can’t get any clearer than that.  There are many instances in the Bible where God has given man warnings, instruction and knowledge of future events via dreams.  Sometimes God sends his angels to do this.  Sometimes the dreams are clear, but sometimes they need to be interpreted by someone else.  Either way, the Bible shows that God used dreams as a way to get his message through.  If He did it back then, I don’t see why He wouldn’t do it today.

I don’t know if God was speaking to Rick in this dream, but I do know truth when I see it.  Jesus told Rick that He is coming and He is coming soon.

Will you tell someone?

~ P

Dream a Little Dream

Have you ever seen the movie Inception?  It came out in theaters back in July, 2010.  I’ve seen it three times and this last time was just a few days ago.  I think I’m finally beginning to understand that movie!  If you haven’t seen it, it’s the one where Leonardo DiCaprio and friends enter a person’s dream to steal secrets.  It’s a far out theory and was kind of confusing the first time I saw it.  Dreams can be confusing too.  They can also be funny, weird and strange.

My dreams are all over the place.  One minute I’m here, the next minute I’m there.  I can’t tell you who is in the dream with me because I can’t see their faces.  And when I wake up, I only remember the dream for a few seconds before it vanishes into the land of forgotten dreams.  Sometimes all I get from a dream is a feeling.  I’ll wake up frightened and sometimes even sobbing, thankful that I was only dreaming.  Other times I wake up wondering where in the heck that dream came from!

Last night I dreamed my car was stolen.  As soon as I woke up, I got out of bed to write down what I could remember.  I don't normally do this, but this time the dream was very clear in my mind.  This is my dream:

I am living in an apartment complex. I leave the apartment to go to work.  I have one of those big shopping bags in my hand.  I can’t find my car.  I calmly walk up and down the parking area several times looking for my car.  I walk to the building next to mine to catch a ride to work with a friend.  My friend also goes looking for my car but can’t find it either.
 

I call the police and they say there is a problem because the state of Georgia said I had registered the car in 16 different states.  I ask the police how they know I used to live in Georgia and they tell me they can see everything about my car in every state I lived in using the VIN number.  I explain about Rick being a construction worker and we have lived in all those states because of his job.  I hang up and wait for them to call me back.

 

Scene change.  It’s Thanksgiving.  We are having a big feast.  I am with another lady.  I think (more like feel) she is my mother-in-law but I can’t see her face.  (She reminds me of Jamie Lee Curtis.)  I tell her I was invited to another Thanksgiving dinner.  She says we should go and only eat a little.  I go for the mash potatoes first and put two big spoonfuls on my plate with gravy.  My mother-in-law gives me a funny look as she sees all the mash potatoes on my plate.  We look for a place to sit down.  There are rows and rows of tables with people sitting at them.  We stand there looking at everyone.

 

The dream ends and I wake up.

This is a pretty weird dream, even for me.  There's almost nothing that's right.  I don’t live in an apartment.  I don’t have a job.  My car was not stolen. While I have lived in 16 different states, my car has been registered in only two, Illinois and Texas, and not at the same time.  It’s not Thanksgiving.  My mother-in-law looked nothing like Jamie Lee Curtis when she went to heaven in 2000.  And while I have sometimes been known to eat mashed potatoes, they would not be the first thing I put on my plate and I would never take two big spoonfuls.  I don’t like them that much.  But I would put gravy on them for sure.

So what is this dream trying to tell me?  Be careful with my car?  I might lose something?  I should get a job?  Don’t eat too much?  I believe there is always some truth in what you dream.  I'll be careful with my car and leave it at that.

In the next few days, I will post about two dreams Rick had last year that I think you will enjoy.  For now I will toss this dream in with the other nonsensical dreams I’ve had.  But there is one question I would like answered.  What was in that shopping bag?  Any ideas?

  

Sweet dreams,

  

~ P

Alouette

Have you seen and heard the latest Target commercial that uses the French children’s song Alouette?  As soon as the commercial started to play, I began singing along and I knew all the words!  This amazed me!  When had I learned this song?  I imagine it was sometime back in early childhood, but I can’t say when or where. 

I went online and looked up the song on Wikipedia.  There it gave the translation of the words I had learned so many years ago.

Alouette, gentille Alouette
Lark, nice lark

Alouette, je te plumerai
Lark, I shall pluck you

Je te plumerai la tête
I shall pluck your head

(Je te plumerai la tête)
(I shall pluck your head)

Et la tête
And your head

(Et la tête)
(And your head)

Alouette
Lark

(Alouette)
(Lark)

O-o-o-oh
Alouette, gentille Alouette
Alouette, je te plumerai

The song continues with verses about plucking feathers from the lark’s beak, neck, back, wings, feet and tail.  Pretty gruesome.  Doesn’t sound like a children’s song to me!   But it does have a catchy melody. 

The fact that I could remember all the words to this song makes me wonder what else I have forgotten that I used to know.  What other songs, poems, stories, people, places, etc. are in there just waiting for a trigger to be pulled so it can be released?  Only time will tell.

Au Revoir,

~ P

Change Is Good

It’s time for a change.  I’ve changed several things about my blog—the design, the colors, the fonts, my picture, the blog description, and the URL (web address); but the most important change I made is the name.  I just didn’t think the title “At Home With My Thoughts” fit anymore.  Oh, I’m still at home and I still have thoughts, but I just didn’t think it was me.

A while back I came up with a title for a book should I ever write one.  I thought it was important to nail down the book’s title to set the direction of the book.  I’ve heard said that you should write what you know.  So the title of the book was going to be “Memoirs of an EXTRA Ordinary Woman” and it would be a story about my life. 

(Sidebar—I came up with that title one night while trying to go to sleep.    Did you notice that the main words spelled out MEOW? You all know how much I love cats!!)

So here I was with this fantastic book title and no book.  I really think writing a book is going to be a bucket list item that I will take to the grave.  And that’s okay.  So I thought the next best thing to do with the title was to use it as the name of my blog.  I believe “Memoirs of an EXTRA Ordinary Woman” fits me better.  I can be ordinary and even extra ordinary at times, but I can also be extraordinary.  My blog contains stories from my life about me and the people I know, so it is like my life story only told in short stories.  I like it, I like it a lot!

My old web address was www.athomewithmythoughts.blogspot.com and I always thought it was such a mouthful!  My new web address is www.patsmeow.blogspot.com and I think it is easier to remember (cat’s meow, pat’s meow…get it?). 

If any of you are reading my blog for the first time, I hope you will take some time to read a few posts.  I guarantee you some are ordinary, some are even extra ordinary, but some you will find to be extraordinary for sure.

=^..^=

~ P

The Pinterest Pandemic

Have you caught the bug?  I’m talking about the latest craze to hit the internet airways at my house called Pinterest.  I’ve caught it bad but I just found my cure. 

I was only contaminated for about 4 weeks and the aftereffects are a permanent indention in the cushion on my chair.  I was one of the lucky ones.  Yesterday, while I was pinning (yes pinning--there is a whole new Pinterest vocabulary that has cropped up...more on that later), I found myself wondering why am I doing this?  Pinterest is basically an individual sport.  You can sit at your computer for hours looking at lovely things, reading inspirational words and drooling over yummy recipes.  Somehow, this lonely sport appealed to me.

For those of you who are not familiar with Pinterest (especially some of you guys), it’s an online virtual bulletin board that allows you to organize all the things you find on the internet that you love and share them with other pinners like yourself.  Here is a description of Pinterest I found while browsing the boards:

Pinterest is a fun reminder of the clothes I will never buy, the home décor I will never afford,  the recipes and crafts I am too busy (or lazy) to ever make, the places I’ll probably never go, the sayings I wasn’t clever enough to think of on my own, and the photos I wish I could take credit for but can’t.

This description speaks volumes to me.  Never buy.  Can’t afford.  Lazy.  Never go.  Not clever.  Can’t take credit.  All these negatives are almost too much for me to take.  But take it I did as I sat in front of my computer unable to control myself as I looked for the next great recipe, home décor, craft, or whatever.  Help!!  I needed a Pintervention!!

Which leads me to the fact that Pinterest has spurred new vocabulary that I’m sure Webster will add to their dictionary at some future point.  Words like:

·         Pinterruption:  the disruption caused by husband and children to get your attention while you are busy on Pinterest,

·         Pinoholic:  someone who can’t stop themselves from pinning,

·         Pintervention: when family and friends get together to talk to you about your pinning addiction,

·         Pinja ‘Vu: the feeling that you have pinned this before, and

·         Pinographer: A full-time pinner.

These Pinterest spawned words (and there are many more) may seem funny at first read, but some of them have a negative implication that you shouldn’t shake off lightly.  For me, they shed a new light on Pinterest and it was one of the reasons I felt I needed to get unaddicted, and fast.

Then yesterday a couple of things happened.  First, I got a text message from Verizon saying that I had used 90% of my data allowance and I still had a week to go before my billing cycle ended and I would get my new allowance.  I have a 5GB limit before they start charging me for going over.  I didn’t realize how much data I was using looking at all that stuff on people’s boards and pinning it to mine.  I was already feeling guilty for spending so much time on the computer.  Now I felt even worse.

Then, while browsing the boards yesterday, I stumbled upon a pin that said, “Dear Pinterest, please change your terms or I’m leaving.”  This peaked my interest so I went to the site and read what the article had to say.  Many of us (or maybe it’s just me) don’t take time to read the Terms of Use section when we sign up to use sites like Pinterest.  Therein lies the problem.  Did you know that when you agree to their Terms of Use, you are saying that you have permission to pin the graphics from the original source or that you are the owner of what you are pinning?  This is fine if you pin a photo that you yourself took and uploaded it to your board, but not fine if you found this beautiful picture of a sunset and zapped it onto your board of Beautiful Skies via the Pin It button.  But wait, there’s more.

You also agree to let Pinterest use (and sell) any image you have pinned…AND if someone should have a problem with that (say the owner of the photo) you agree to take all the blame financially AND pay for their legal fees should Pinterest incur any. 

Serious stuff.  Can you say “copyright infringement?”  Here is the link to the article I read.  I have also put this and another link on my Pinterest board.  http://www.knoed.com/thewindowseat/pinterest-change-your-terms-or-were-leaving/

With that said and done, I have decided to delete all my boards from Pinterest with the exception of the one warning others of the risks they may be taking by being a Pinterest user, which may or may not ever materialize.  This has solved both of my problems with one action and has made it very easy for me to get off the Pinterest bandwagon.  I enjoyed it while I was unaware of its negative aspects, but it’s time to say goodbye to that addiction (I have others I’ll hang on to for a while longer thank you very much.  Oh chocolate, don't worry. I'll never leave you!).  From now on, anything that I find on the internet that I really like, I will bookmark the site for future reference.

For those of you who have not yet caught the Pinterest bug, be forewarned, be aware and beware!  The tenth commandment says we are not to covet thy neighbor’s stuff.  Don’t get so caught up in Pinterest that it leaves you desiring more than you can afford, wishing for unrealistic dreams that will never come true, and drooling all over that nice shirt you just washed.  That's where I found myself headed and it happened way too easily.  It could happen to you too.

Be Blessed,

~ P

Meatloaf Madness

I don’t know if you’ve ever heard me say this, but I hate to cook!!  I love to eat, just not my own cooking.  Now if you ask my husband Rick, he will tell you I am a good cook.  I honestly can’t tell you where that is coming from.  Maybe he’s like Mikey (he’ll eat anything), maybe he’s comparing me to other cooks in his life (mother, ex-wife) or maybe he just doesn’t want to hurt my feelings!!  All I know is when I make certain dishes, he goes on and on about how good it tastes.  Go figure.

Rick’s favorite meal is my meatloaf, an all-American comfort food.  He would eat it every day if I served it to him.  This is my recipe:

1 ½ lbs Ground Beef (80/20 mix)

1 egg
1/8 cup Cream (I don’t keep milk in the house)
2 tbs Ranch Dressing
2 tbs Worchester Sauce
2 tbs Progresso Italian Breadcrumbs
4 tbs Kraft Parmesan Cheese
1 tsp Salt
1 tsp Pepper
½ tsp Garlic Powder

Smoosh it all together and plop it in a baking dish.  Cook for 50 minutes at 350 degrees.  That’s it!!

I must admit here that it does smell good when it comes out of the oven.  And I guess it tastes ok (if I put a lot of brown gravy on top).  But to hear Rick moan mmm and watch him close his eyes as he takes each bite (without gravy I might add), well this is way beyond my comprehension!

I’m sure at some point in your life you have had friends or family recommend a restaurant for you to try.  They tell you how good the food is and you simply must go there to eat.  But when you do, you find the food is just not to your liking at all and can’t believe you wasted money eating there.  Rick and I have both been there.  One day I will tell you about our search for good barbeque while living in Mobile, Alabama.  Anyway, after the disappointment wears off, you begin to wonder what was so great about that food that someone would recommend you pay to eat it.  I think the answer lies in taste buds, those little taste receptors that are part of your tongue and tell you whether something is yummy or yucky!!  Everybody has them and everybody’s are different.  Your taste buds may tell you something tastes good, while mine would say it tastes bad.  That’s the answer.  It’s as simple as my meatloaf recipe.

God sure did put a lot of thought in when creating man, right down to the little taste buds in our mouths.  The Bible says in Psalm 139:14, “…I am fearfully and wonderfully made.”  I guess that goes for my taste buds too!!

Be blessed and have some meatloaf tonight!!

~ P

P.S.  In case you were wondering…that is a picture of MY meatloaf.  I made two this week…one to eat and one to freeze.  To take the picture I took the frozen meatloaf, brushed off the ice crystals, set it in a clean baking dish (that’s why no greasy dish) and staged it to look good.  Looks like one of those professional pictures, doesn't it?  Well, almost.

Where Have I Been?

It’s been 547 days since my last blog post.  That’s a long time.  It was September 8, 2010 and I posted about two friends who had died only weeks apart.  I don’t know why I stopped writing since I enjoy it so much.  So let me reexamine those 547 days and see what may have been the reason I quit writing. 

We were still in Mobile Alabama in September of 2010.  The holidays were quickly approaching.  We went to my brother’s for Thanksgiving.  Then in December Rick was laid off from his job.  In January 2011 I went to San Diego to celebrate my granddaughter’s 16^th birthday and my 60^th.  In March 2011 Rick got another job, but it was only for a few weeks.  So we left Mobile for Benton Arkansas.  This was the start of our journey across the states.  In the next 12 months we traveled 4,248 miles (and that’s not counting any side trips we took while our RV was parked) looking for long term work but finding only short term jobs.  In total, Rick worked only 13 weeks in 2011.  Pretty sad.

As you can see, all this traveling around the country may have been the reason I stopped writing.  Or it may have been because Rick was home so much of the time and the presence of another person in my creative space stifled my creative juices.

Or just maybe the deaths of these two people were the reason.  That post moved me as I wrote it, after I posted it and even as I reflect on it today.  It was my opportunity to get the message of Jesus out there.  I don’t know how many people stumbled upon my blog simply by clicking on the NEXT BLOG link, but I have to believe some did.  By leaving that September 8, 2010 post up for 547 days, there’s no telling how many people might have read it.  And of those that read it, how many asked themselves the question, “Am I ready?”  I choose to believe that is the question for today and for all the tomorrows until Jesus comes again.

Blessings,

~ P

Are You Ready?

The Labor Day weekend has come and gone. I’m sure there were many of you that went away for the long weekend or had a backyard barbecue. Labor Day typically signifies the final days of summer where we all want to get in one last hurrah before getting on with fall and winter. But for Rick and me, the Labor Day weekend brought sadness as we learned of two friends who had passed away.

Doug was one of the guys who went to welding school with Rick. He kept in touch with Rick almost every day.  Jenna was a lady from our church family in Illinois and since moving away I only interacted with her through Facebook.

Both were too young to die. Doug was 34; Jenna was 52.

Both deaths were unexpected and shocking. Doug died in a jail in Oklahoma after being arrested for public intoxication; Jenna died alone peacefully while sitting in a chair in her home in Illinois.

When situations like this happen, the first question you want to ask is why? But that is a question only God can answer. So instead, I decided to look at these two deaths to see if I can use what happened to help answer another question, “Are you ready?”

Doug was a good guy who didn’t always make the right choices. His happiness seemed to be a result of what was happening in his life.  He tried to improve his life by going to welding school and learning a trade, but in the end he wound up losing his wife and daughter in divorce, losing his job, taking up with a woman too soon after his divorce who wasn’t good for him, ignoring help and advice from his friends and using alcohol to temporarily bury his troubles.

Jenna was a sweet lady who loved her family and friends and was loved in return. She loved the Lord and her church family and had a heart to serve God. When she was diagnosed with colon cancer, she trusted Jesus to heal her. She always had a smile on her face and was a positive and optimistic person.

Here you have two very different people that had one thing in common on the day of their death…they didn’t know it was their last day to live. They didn’t know they had no more time left. They didn’t know they were leaving their friends and family behind. They didn't know they had no more chances to say "I love you."  They didn’t know and neither will you when your time comes.  

A few weeks ago my pastor asked this question during his sermon, “What would you do if you knew Jesus was coming again tomorrow?” This question screamed at me as a born again believer. The Bible says that as a disciple of Christ, I must go and tell others that Jesus can forgive them of their sin and save them from eternal damnation in hell, and that by accepting God’s free gift of salvation through Jesus Christ they can have eternal life in heaven. Once Jesus comes again, it will be too late. Well, I can tell you that I did not take the pastor’s question to heart until now. For Doug and Jenna life is over. It's too late for me to ask them "Are you ready?"

In a telephone call, Doug’s dad told Rick that Doug had a peaceful look on his face and he was sure he was headed in the right direction. And if you knew Jenna, you would believe that today she is in the arms of Jesus in Heaven. But it is not for me to say who is going to heaven and who is going to hell. Only God knows what was in the hearts of these two friends.

So today I ask you “Are you ready?”  


Blessings and hugs,

~ P

If you would like information that will show you how you can become a child of God, please click here:  Four Spiritual Laws.

"Super" Walmart

Some days I never leave the RV. There’s no place to go. Why spend the gas just riding around in the car. So I stay home, read, watch TV, get on the computer and do a little housework. It fills my day.

But there is one day in the week that regularly gets me out of the house, and that’s the day I go grocery shopping. I go to a Walmart Supercenter for my one stop weekly shopping. I just don’t agree that it’s “super.” That word seems to be overused these days. Oh, I get it that they are combining a grocery store with a department store of sorts. But does that really warrant having SUPER in the title? They could just as easily call them Walmart Plus stores. We all would have understood that.

So here I am thinking about what’s so “super” about Walmart Supercenters and I came up with this…it’s the people who go there to shop. Each and every person is unique in his own right. No two of us are alike…we are all one of a kind. Now that’s super!

Take today for instance.

I was lucky enough to get a parking spot fairly close to the front of the store. When I got out of my car, I saw a lady hobbling around the car next to mine holding on as she walked towards a empty cart left next to her car. You could tell she was in pain by the way she was walking…kind of like she was walking on hot coals only very slowly.

“Do you need any help,” I asked her.

“No, not really,” she said. “It’s just when I sit too long I get stiff and it takes me a while to get moving. I need to get this cart to hold on to while I walk.”

I knew exactly what she was talking about. I get the same way sometimes. I walked beside her as we made our way in to Walmart talking about our aching knees and how the heat doesn’t much help. I was going to suggest a motorized cart for her but when we got to the lobby, her elderly mother, whom she had apparently dropped off before parking, was waiting for her in a motorized cart and she had her foot in a cast. What a pair they made. We parted ways at that point. I felt a small part of me had bonded with her during our short 2 minute walk. We shared something…even if it was only the same aches and pains.

The rest of my shopping trip was pretty much a one man show…I was in my own little world looking for this and that, marking them off my list as I went. Finally, I was done. Check out is always a nightmare, trying to find the shortest line, hoping the clerk is fast and knows what she’s doing. I picked aisle 12. There were only two people in line. The first person in line was almost finished and the guy behind her was just buying some beer and a few other things. Not too bad.

As I stood there waiting, a young man in his late 20’s early 30’s came up behind me. I turned and saw he had only two items. I told him to go ahead of me. “Are you sure?” he asked.

“Yes, go ahead,” I said. “I have way more items than you.” As it turned out I had $132 worth of items in my cart. That’s the problem with going to a Super Walmart…but I’ll leave that for another day. I like to let people with only a few items go ahead of me so that maybe one day when I only have a few items, someone will let me go ahead. You know, the biblical “do unto others” thing.

Anyway, as I continued to wait for my turn to check out, this guy comes up behind me. He’s a short, thin, 40-something year old biker guy dressed full out in leather pants and jacket with chains all over the jacket and piercings all over his face (nose, lips, eyebrows, ears). He smiles at me with a one tooth missing smile and asks, “Can I look at those Pez dispensers down there?”

“Sure,” I said as I moved over so he could look.

“Do you collect them?” I asked.

“Yeah,” he said shyly almost as if he was embarrassed about it. Not finding what he wanted he moved on to the next check out aisle. Too funny. I would never have pegged him as a collector of Pez dispensers. Looks sure can be deceiving.

The two-item guy and beer guy in front of me were staring at biker guy as he went from aisle to aisle and they were quietly laughing. Yes he was different and looked strange in his leather outfit and piercings, but how bad can a guy be who collects Pez dispensers?

Sometimes you just have to look at people and see them the way God sees them. The Bible says we are fearfully and wonderfully made and we are made in God’s image. It also says that man looks at the outward appearance, but the Lord looks at the heart. So who am I to judge…who are we to judge?

Home I went with all my groceries. Another week done. I feel good about today. God showed me that I need to offer help to those in need, to be kind to one another, and not to be judgmental; all good lessons.

I wonder who I’ll meet in Super Walmart next week and what God will show me.

~ P

The Miracle

This is the story of a miracle, a miracle that happened forty years ago.  It is the story of how God blessed our family with a perfect little baby boy, who we named Jeffrey.

I thought it would be neat for Jeffrey to know the circumstances surrounding his birth from his mother's point of view.  So often we wonder, but never ask. 

August 18, 1970, 5:00 am

I'm not an early riser, but on this day I got up early.  I went to the bathroom and discovered I was in the early stages of labor.  Uh oh.  It was happening.  I was going to have my baby.  There was no more time to think about it or plan for it and there sure was no stopping it.

A bizillion thoughts were running through my head.  What do I do now?  I'm just nineteen.  What did I know?  I never had a baby before and I didn't know what to expect.  I need to call my doctor.  No, first I needed to eat.  I read somewhere that you shouldn't eat when you're in labor.  But I was hungry!  So I toasted two Thomas' english muffins and had them with a glass of milk.  Who knows, this might be my last meal for a while.  There, I feel better.  Now I can call my doctor.

Every morning from 6:00 to 7:00 a.m. my doctor, Dr. Robert Schrier, had question and answer time for expectant mothers.  Great!  I would call and ask him what I should do.  When I got Dr. Schrier on the phone and explained what was happening to me, he told me to come to his office at 9:00 so he could give me an examination.

By now Don was up and getting ready for work.  I told him what was happening.  He said he would drive me to his sister Betty's house and she would take me to see the doctor.  He would go on to work and check on me throughout the day.  So that's what we did.  At the doctor's office, my doctor told me I was in the very early stages of labor and it may be a while before I delivered.  "Go home and come to the hospital around 3:00 p.m. for another exam.  And don't have any solid foods to eat," he said.  Boy, was I glad I had the foresight to eat those two english muffins when I did.

So back to Betty's house we went where I had chicken broth for lunch.  Yum.  Around 3:00, Betty took me to St. Charles Hospital in Port Jefferson where we met up with Dr. Schrier.  After a quick examination, he told me I was hardly dilated at all.  He said I probably wouldn't have my baby until the next day.  He told me to go home and come back to the hospital just after midnight.  He said I would be charged for the whole day if I came in before then.  I'm glad he said that because we didn't have maternity insurance because I was already pregnant when Don got his job with the New York Telephone Company.

I stayed at Betty's house until Don picked me up after work.  My labor pains were tolerable, but slow going.  I do not remember much of that evening.  I probably had more chicken broth for dinner.  Yum yum.  I tried to go to sleep at a normal hour, but the pains were annoying enough and kept me awake, plus I was anxious about the whole process of labor and delivery.  One clear memory I have is of Don and me watching my belly as each contraction started and ended.  It was an amazing sight to us first time parents-to-be.

August 19, 1970 12:00 midnight

At last we were headed to the hospital.  I had my little bag with my nightgown and size 9 slippers. 

Sidebar: towards the last weeks of pregnancy, my feet had swelled so much due to fluid retention.  I had to buy slippers that were two sizes larger just to get my feet in them.  Not a pretty sight then (or now-inside joke).

Getting back to the story, we finally arrived at St Charles Hospital and I was seated in a wheelchair and wheeled to the admissions office.  Since we had no maternity insurance, we had to sign our life away and practically promise our first born son to insure them that we would pay the bill.  Then an aide took me to the labor room.  Don stayed behind until I was situated in the room.  After being poked and prodded in every way imaginable, the nurse asked me if I wanted to see my husband.  I said no.  I'm not sure why.  Maybe I wasn't thinking clearly.  Maybe I was just scared and wanted to be by myself.  Nobody prepared me for anything like this, not like they do today.  Back then you experienced labor and delivery on your own and it was a scary time for a new mom-to-be.

August 19, 1970 3:15 p.m.

"Mrs. Neidhart, Mrs. Neidhart," I heard someone say.  "You had a baby boy."  What?  Was it over already?  What happened?

That's how I found out I had a baby boy.  A nurse told me.  To this day I don''t remember what happened from that last contraction exam until I heard the nurse calling my name.  "The Miracle" had happened and I was so drugged I slept right through it. 

But...

Jeffery Donald Neidhart was finally here, all 8 lbs. 5 oz. of him.  He was the cutest little baby I had ever seen in all the world.  And he was a good baby.  At just ten days old he started sleeping through the night.  I was trying to give him his 2:00 a.m. feeding and he wouldn't wake up.  I tried to wake him up by tickling his feet.  He just kept sleeping.  I put the bottle to his lips and tried to make him drink.  The milk ran down the side of his face.  I was so concerned that I called his pediatrician the next morning telling him I was afraid Jeffery wasn't getting enough to eat.  He laughed and said, "Mrs. Neidhart, let your baby sleep.  He'll let you know when he's hungry."   And he did.

The years have been good to Jeffery.  He was an adorable little boy who grew into a handsome young man.  He has a mother and father who love him very much, even though we ended the marriage when Jeffrey turned five.  He's smart too.  He graduated from college with a degree in Accounting and went on to get his CPA.  Jeff is married and has three little miracles of his own.  Today, he turns forty years old and I am very proud of the man he has become.

I remember holding Jeffrey one night when he was just a few days old.  I had my knees up and cradled him in my lap.  Watching him I could imagine him inside my belly.  What a miracle, what an awesome miracle.  This baby grew inside me.  Yes, giving birth to a child is a miracle and even though these miracles happen every day to women all over the world, they are no less special. 

Jeffery, you are my miracle.  I love you.  Happy Birthday!

Love and hugs, Mom

The Baby of the Family

If you are the youngest sibling in your family, you know that being the “baby” can be a curse or a gift. Fifty-seven years ago today I was replaced as the baby of the family by my brother Rick. I probably wasn’t too happy about that. You see, being the baby has its advantages. You are the center of attention (at least for the first few years), everyone thinks you are so cute (and I could have done cute for quite a while), Mom and Dad let you get away with murder, you have the advantage of learning from the mistakes of your older siblings, and you have your pick of bedrooms when they leave the house.

BUT… I also concede it has its disadvantages. Aside from FOREVER being called the “baby” of the family, you’re not in as many pictures because Mom is too busy to take them, you get hand-me-down clothes, your older siblings don’t want to hang around with you while you’re still a kid, and you’re all alone after they leave the house with just Mom and Dad to contend with. It’s a tossup as to which is better, but for me, I’m glad my baby brother came along.

Richard, Ricky, Rick was born on July 6, 1953. He’s a Monday’s Child, meaning he’s “fair of face.” I agree. He was an adorable baby that grew into a handsome man. To get there though, he went through a transformation as you will note from the pictures I’ve posted here.

It wasn’t always fun for me having a baby brother. Every now and then Mom would ask me to watch Ricky (we called him Ricky when he was little) or to take him with me as I went out to play. I didn’t like him tagging along with me and my friends. Sometimes he could be a pain. There's a picture of me and Ricky sitting on bench and I’m holding some kind of stick in my hand. It makes me wonder why I was holding that stick. Surely it wasn’t to… umm… no, umm... I never hit my baby brother… NEVER! ; D

Rick has always loved music. There’s a picture of him when he was 3 or 4 years old playing a plastic guitar. He is in his underwear (ala Tom Cruise in Risky Business) holding that little guitar like the rock star he later hoped to become. I believe Mom still has that picture somewhere. I wish I had it to post here. It would have made you smile. Little did we know what an influence that guitar would have on him.

Rick took guitar playing very seriously in his teens and got pretty good at it. Through the years he was part of several bands, singing and using his natural born talent playing the guitar. He never got the big break he was looking for, but I don’t think he’s ever stopped dreaming.

In August, 1969, when Rick was just 16, his love for music and to see those who performed it compelled him to take off with some friends and journey to Woodstock which, as we all know now, was a history making event. And he didn’t even tell Mom or Dad he was going!! What reckless abandon he had!!

As we grew into adults, our relationship as brother and sister wasn’t as close as it could have been. After I got married there were many years where I didn’t have much contact with Rick at all. We “traveled” in different circles. I was busy living my life and he was busy living his. To make matters worse, I had moved away from Centereach which made it harder for us to stay connected.

THEN, in 2008 the entire family came together to celebrate our Mom’s 80th birthday. It was during this visit that I connected with my brother in a way that had eluded us before this. Maybe it was because I was seeing my brother in a different light. Instead of the baby brother I used to picture in my mind, the one who played in a rock band and had dreams of becoming famous, the one who ran off on a whim to Woodstock in search of rock stars, the one who seemed not to have a care in the world and loved to joke around; I was seeing him as a grownup version of himself, one who is settled down, who works hard for a living to provide for his family, who still appreciates music in all forms, who loves life to the fullest and continues to be a fun loving guy. Whatever it was, I am thankful for the change in our relationship.

Today, Rick is married to a wonderful lady named Debbie who takes good care of him and keeps him from getting out of line. I am happy to have her as my sister-in-law. While he seems more settled down, he has not lost the quirkiness and humor that make him who he is. Like when he calls you on the phone and he uses this funny sounding voice to say “hello” and “goodbye.” I can’t explain it, but if you’ve heard it, you’ll know what I’m talking about. It cracks me up!! Or if you hear him sing, it never sounds like he’s quite serious about it. He starts to sing then goes off on an improvised riff in a falsetto voice. This always makes me laugh. And oh how he loves his hot sauce!! I’m surprised he has any taste buds left!!!

I have many fond memories of me and my brother Rick, but there is one memory that will be forever in my heart. On a visit to see family in 1993, Rick whisked me away from the house to take me to see the movie Jurassic Park. All it took was him asking me if I had seen it and me answering no. The next thing I knew we were in the car and on our way without telling anyone we were going!! I thoroughly enjoyed watching the movie with him and I think he enjoyed watching me watch the film. I clearly remember him laughing as I jumped out of my skin and screamed out loud as a raptor tried to get at one of the actors in the movie. You do remember how intense Jurassic Park was, don’t you? What a great time that was for me!! What made it really special was that it was just me and my baby brother doing something together, just the two of us. At the time I don’t think I realized what a wonderful memory Rick was creating for me. And for that I am grateful.

HAPPY

BIRTHDAY

RICK!

Love and Hugs, Sis