Hats Off to the Techies

Sometimes I forget how spoiled I am. We live in a community blessed by tremendously talented techie guys. I lean on them daily and obviously take them for granted. This week Wendell and I went to a little gathering of friends who are leaders of several similar churches here in the Midwest. We've known many of these folks for decades, and we love being together. One of the key leaders among this group couldn't come to Omaha, though, so we had the bright idea to bring him in through a video link on the computer.

Problem was, none of us really knew how to do that. We're pretty good at Google Video Chat or Skype conference call. But stretch us to one more cable connection to get Doug on the big screen, and we were stumped. We took turns leaning over the computer screen and talking into the microphone so Doug could be in on conversations.

I was shocked. I'm so accustomed to hitting the "spark" button on my desktop and connecting with one of our guys just about any time of the day or night. Then I say something like, "Can you get my laptop to fly to the moon, bring back some stardust, and dance on my desktop before lunch time today?" And they do.

So, here's to the techie guys. My hat is off. My hands are clapping. And my ipod is reminding me to NEVER travel without one of you!!!!

Things That Bless a Grandmother's Heart

A school that gives an end-of-the-year award for Best Story Teller to a four year old boy who would much rather be throwing rocks in the lake than sitting still in school. (Way to go, Jude)

A phone call saying, "We landed safely in New Jersey and baby Nola enjoyed her first flight." (Especially when the news is currently full of horrific plane crash details.)

Grandsons who still hug me in public even though they are nearly as tall as me and have become official athletes on competitive teams. (Thanks guys)

A kitchen table that still swells with noise and confusion for Sunday lunch. (Although we miss those who eat lunch in distant states.)

The delicious silence when they all go home and I'm left with happy memories. (And a few dirty dishes.

)

A crowded lap.

At My Letters

Time seems to become more valuable to me as I age. As if I'm finally realizing I have a limited amount of it to accomplish all the earth stuff assigned to me. So, I'm wary of the time-wasters. And, seriously, what could waste more time than a narcissistic blog? Facebook, perhaps. Or maybe Twitter, which I haven't succumbed to yet.

But, when I read about the great men and women of the past, I find a common theme among them. Most devoted a few hours every morning to prayer and Bible reading. Then, they sat down with quill and parchment and spent another few hours "at their letters." These folks achieved some great things in life, such as founding our nation. Yet they found time to write long, thoughtful letters to loads of people. Maybe the writing of letters actually helped formulate their thoughts on weighty matters. Certainly it helped teach them the art of writing.

I'm not sure updating my Facebook status equates. Yet, computer time seems to have become my version of being at my letters. After I've prayed, and read, and walked on the treadmill, I'm always ready to check my email and respond to a few electronic letters. (or maybe write a blog). This little exercise seems to help me, especially on days like this one where the to-do list spills over the edges of the day and into the evening.

So, I've taken a few minutes now to send out these words. It may have been an exercise in self-indulgence. But it reminds me that among my callings as wife, mother, grandmother, office manager, and mentor I am still at heart a writer.

Standing Ovation

When our granddaughter, Claire Felicity White, was born, we stood around her little bed like this. The first night we crowded twenty-some people into the cubicle and willed our less-than-two-pound-baby to be strong. After her twin sister, Ellery Blythe, slipped through a portal to Glory, we stood around Claire and sang songs. We recited scripture and told her all the things she could be when she grew strong.

Last night we stood around Claire like this, after she strutted across the stage to receive her diploma at Kindergarten graduation. She sang songs, recited scripture, and made us cry when she read her essay about the doctor she wants to be when she grows up.

Standing Ovation, Please

Say it Loud

I've always been a strong beleiver in saying things out loud to put them in perspective. This can be dangerous, of course. My husband has been known to take shelter occassionally because he fears losing a limb in the mine-field of my emotions. The thoughts swirling in my head at any given moment can lanch me to giddy heights or plunge me into dark despair. And sometimes the dark despair ones get a foothold if I'm not careful. That hasn't happened much in the last several years, but this weekend, they got me.

Nothing terrible happened. I just let myself get a little too tired and a little too busy and a lot too negative about little details like my writing career or lack thereof. Isn't that awful? I have the greatest life in the world. Even the things I was sad about are a zillion times better than most people's circumstances.

But I'm never rational at a time like this. So, my wise and exceptionally brave husband waited until things got quiet in the house and then said, "Okay. Come over here and tell me what you are thinking."

We sat on the sofa and I tried to put words around the emotions, which is never easy when one is actually in the pit of despair. He listened. And asked questions. And didn't tell me I was being silly. And then he prayed.

This morning I woke up to dark clouds and rain outside the window. But I felt sunshine in my soul again. Somehow, speaking all my fears out loud broke their power. (plus the prayer thing). I don't pretend to understand everything about spiritual warfare. But I know the enemy of my soul is real, and I know he works in darkness. And, I know my Redeemer lives, and He operates in Light. When I say things out loud, His light makes the darkness flee.

Thanks, Hub.

Things I do While My Husband is Out of Town

I eat ice cream. As if it won't really pack on the pounds as long as I eat it when no one is watching. I'm pretty sure this is the first sign of an addiction. 

But, then, I buy exotic vegetables like canned Squash with Vidalia Onions. Or Triple Succotash with tomatoes, corn, and butter beans. Completely weird. I think the old-fashioned mixture reminds me of eating supper at my grandmother's house and what could be more comforting than that?

I watch chick-flicks. Although in my case the chicks are more like old hens. I prefer leading ladies who are seasoned, and I am currently enthralled with the PBS series Cranford. My poor husband only sat through Pride & Prejudice because it has that one scene with a herd of deer loping across the meadow. 

I walk the dog. Normally, I admire her from afar. She is a hunter and belongs exclusively to the master of the house. But, when the boss is gone I actually take her for walks in our neighborhood and pick up the offerings she leaves behind on the neighbors' lawns. Our bonding is a strange thing, I suppose. But, we both miss him so much when he is away. And I'm pretty sure nobody loves him quite the way we do.

Letting Go

I didn't know I was a control freak. This ugly trait surfaced when I finished making summer schedules for the office. The little columns were all lined up neatly on my Google calendar, indicating where shifts overlapped and where we might have a gap. And there before my eyes was the amazing revelation. I could take my Paid Time Off.

Now, lest you start feeling sorry for me, I do take time off. I go with Wendell to medical conventions three or four times a year. And we usually schedule some vacation time to go see the grandkids. But this PTO is different. It is mine, as an employee. I looked at the weekly schedule and discovered we are going to be over-staffed a few hours every week for the summer. And, we are making enough money to pay everyone!

So, I juggled my own shift just a little. Since I generally stay until 6:00, I can go in at 9:00. And since I always work Saturday mornings, I can take Friday mornings off.

This is beautiful. There is only one problem. I'm not sure I can do it. Wendell is out of town for three days, and I made myself stay home each of these mornings to catch up on household tasks that have been sadly neglected. I actually watch the clock to see how soon I can go to the office.

I'm pretty sure the first morning I'm home while they are seeing patients will be agony. But, I also know my husband will be really happy if this means we consistently have clean towels and groceries. And, he will be even happier if it means I finish my current work-in-progress and quit moaning about never having time to write.

So, I'm vowing to unclench my fingers from the office key. I'm determined to take a deep breath, look away from the clock, and trust God (and Lenna, Jordan, and Jenny) to handle things just fine without me. At least for three hours.