ANOTHER WORD

Tonight, I want to think about another of the many Words by which I try to live and this one comes from the book of James. Here, the author has told me that whenever I don't know what I should do, I should simply ask G-d; and if I believe, He will give me the answer.

Isn't that a wonderful thought? Don't you wish that it were really true? That if you didn't know what to do about some serious situation in your life, that all you had to do was ask G-d and He would just tell you what to do? Wouldn't that be exciting: to come to G-d and ask what to do, where to go, what to spend; and we would know?

But that is what it says. Can I really do that? Does it work? Well, yes, but not like the magic act some seem to expect when they ask. Let's look at what the word does say, "If any of you lacks wisdom, he should ask G-d, ... and it will be given to him.  But when he asks, he must believe and not doubt, because he who doubts is like a wave of the sea, blown and tossed by the wind."

That means that if I need wisdom about something in particular, if I really need to know whether I should or should not take a trip or take a class, put off an appointment or buy another car, if I need wisdom and really need to know from G-d, if I haven't already made up my mind and am not simply waiting for something to encourage me in the direction I already want to go, if I am truly looking for wisdom and not permission to do something I already know I should not do,  I should ask G-d.

If I lack wisdom and truly want not an excuse, not permission, not encouragement, but wisdom -- if I lack wisdom and want wisdom about any specific thing, then I should ask of G-d, go to Him with my mind open to His wisdom, go to Him with a real desire for His will, and I should go to Him believing and not doubting. I should go without any idea of "if it works..." or "If He cares ..." or any of the multitude of doubts which we take along witih us every day; if we do believe that He will give us that wisdom, then we will be answered, we will have the wisdom we need.

If we need wisdom and we ask for that wisdom, believing,  then G-d will give us that wisdom. And here is where we get in the way again. Sometimes, we expect a big answer booming through the sky or spelled oud in gold letters in front of our eyes; but that isn't the way it often comes. G-d gives us that wisdom which we need and often it IS in that small quite voice deep within our spirit, and sometimes it is given to us in the words of some other person in conversation, in a commentary in a book, in a speech or a sermon, even in a novel or a movie, the words of a song or a poem we read.

Suddenly, we have our answer; the wisdom is a part of our thinking; we know what we must do. And that wisdom has come from G-d because we asked. Isn't G-d good? If only we had the wisdom in the first place to quiet ourselves and come before Him and without any preconditions, simply ask.  Wisdom can be ours. The wisdom written about in the Proverbs can be ours. The wisdom Solomon asked for can be ours. We only need ask, believing.

I DID NOT HAVE A HEART ATTACK

It is a long story and so I begin...  Monday, I stumbled against a groove in the ramped sidewalk and fell hard on my right side, breaking my glasses. (We will talk about $400 for glasses later.) Nothing else seemed to be hurt and so I went on about my day. Tuesday, about 4 in the afternoon, I begin to hurt in the right side of my neck and chest wall. 

As it grew stronger, it reminded me of a time when I have taken a capsule only to have it begin to dissolve somewhere in my throat, rather than further down. Always, when that has happened, it has caused a burning in my throat, neck and upper chest until I drank an enormous amount of water or ate something to push it on down. And that IS what I was feeling. Worse, it widened out, moving into the sides of my neck and on into the bottom of my jaw. Then, it moved down into the front of my chest and suddenly, I remembered that I had felt that before. 

In the spring of 2003 while in Childress, I had felt the same thing while preparing brunch for David one Sunday. As I sat down to eat with him, I realized that I could not eat. I was choking. I could not swallow at all. And I was beginning to have trouble breathing or speaking. I was scared and all I could do was sit and attempt to chew or swallow. I had then begun to shake and I was truly scared.

The pain that had been in my jaw and neck and the front of my chest grew worse, and I called Regina to ask whether she remembered the symptoms of a heart attack in a woman.  We had talked about that earlier in the week; but she couldn't remember them either and so she took me to the ER. 

All that came flooding back as I felt the very same way once again: I couldn't breath, I couldn't talk, I couldn't swallow. All I could do was shake and cry. And thus I asked Jim, my apartment manager to take me to the Emergency Room. I knew from that experience before that I probably was not having a heart attach, but I hurt badly and I had no idea of what was wrong with me. And alone with no family, I wanted a doctor and a hospital.

Sending out a request for prayer from a dear friend, I went to the ER and admitted myself, shaking all over and probably scaring someone in the waiting room. But the Triage nurse quickly took me to a trauma room and a doctor came in with his questions. After I explained the situation and had told him that I was definitely NOT a hysterical old woman, he gave me over to his nurses who checked once again everything which had been checked in the last three months. One thing I do know now: there is nothing wrong with me that I do not know all about.

Later, he came in with the very same solution that my doctor in Childress had: and IV solution of anti-anxiety medication. I had not been anxious about anything. That was not my problem; but the medication slowed everything down and reduced the pain to almost none at all. After he had watched me for two or more hours, he sent me home with a prescription for that medication should this ever happen again. I was calm and quite ready to be home.

It was as I got out of Romona’s car in front of my apartment that I felt that same pain in my jaw and chest on the right side. Not again. I was completely relaxed and ready do be at home. And then, as she and I talked about my fall of the preceding day, I realized just why my right chest wall was still in pain, still felt as if it were agitated: I had fallen on my right side the day before; the pain was from the chest wall's being bruised inside.

I don't know whether that pain set off some sort of anxiety that led to the entire problem or whether the pain mimicked the pain that might come with a panic attack; whatever the problem had been, I have now been checked and rechecked: my heart is in fine shape. My arteries have been checked. Right now, as of this very moment, I am well! I'm simply sore.

And this, it is two o'clock in the morning and I am at home, letting those of you who were concerned with me know that I am fine. I now do know what those pains that often accompany a woman's heart attack do feel like and although I had the pain, I did not have the heart attack.

HAMBURGERS AGAIN ...

As I have said here before, I do like my own cooking; and today, I would love to have one of my own home made hamburgers. They are simple enough to make, but it messes up the kitchen and takes quite a long time when you think that all I am getting is one little sandwich. But oh, is it ever worth the time and the mess. When I make my hamburger, I make a good, old-fashioned one, beginning with some good ground steak. (Sometimes, I chop my own and sometimes I have it ground for me; but I don't start with ground beef from the counter, that's for sure.)

Before I even begin to cook the hamburger, I prepare my condiments: my veggies. I want two or three slices of a very good red tomato and two or three very thin (almost paper thin) slices of sweet onion to which I add a couple of leaves of curly green leaf lettuce (the good stuff with lots of vitamins) and two or three long slices of dill pickle (I really like Stackers.)  

I keep cooked bacon in my refridgerator and so I reheat that (it is very crisp from the way I cook bacon ... more about that another day) and have it ready to put on my burger. And I also have nice, thin slices of cheddar cheese ready to go. Over on the side I get the plain yellow mustard and the real mayonnaise ready. And thus, I am prepared to cook my supper.

I prefer my beef patty more thin than the thick ones that everyone seems to prefer. So I make out a relatively thin patty with only about a fourth of a pound of beef and I don't add anything to it. (Oh yes, I, at times, have added spices, chopped onions, steak sauce; but this isn't what I really want.) So, I put that beef patty on my sizzling hot griddle (yes, cast iron, well seasoned) and let it cook. I don't touch it, don't smash it, don't mash it, nothing. It cooks to DONE. Because I cook it fast on that hot griddle, it is still quite juicy and just fine (and it isn't going to make me sick).

As soon as the meat is done, I put it to one side and get the bun ready to heat. I really like the buns baked at Central Market, the ones that taste more like real home baked bread; and I slice them in two and place them cut side down on the griddle right where the meat was just cooked. (Yes, I know, sometimes, grease gets on the bun and that makes it taste even better as it adds to the quality of my bun.) And then : Ta Da .... it is time to put the whole thing together.

And so I buid it: my idea of the perfect hamburger:  warm bun with mayo, leafy, crunchy lettuce, great beef patty, crisp bacon, real cheese that really melts, tomatoes, onions, pickles, another leaf of lettuce, and the topper, the bun slatherd with just the right amount of mustard. I love it. 

Others like their burgers with all kinds of things added to them. I've watched the Cook-off's on the Food Network. I've seen burgers that began with ground shrimp or ground lamb and contained pineapple chunks and yogurt and who knows what else? Those, for me, are not hamburgers. Sorry. They may well be sandwiches; but they are NOT hamburgers.

I am not thrilled with McDonald's as a place to get a great meal or even as a place to find a good burger, but at least they do know the definition of a hamburger. I have heard children sing it:  all beef patties, pickles, sesame seed buns. You know: the works. MickeyD's gets it right: it begins with beef. That's right: BEEF. The Food Channel I love; but they have truly missed it when it comes to my favorite home cooked meal: a real home made, beefy hamburger.

BE STILL

Another of the Words by which I live also comes from the Psalms, Psalms 37:7, "Be still before the Lord and wait patiently for Him." How many times I have read that one and tried and tried and tried. And then I learned that it does not say to try. It says to "be still and wait.""

I think that may well be the most difficult thing there is for those of us who are filled with ideas that need to be shared and music that must be heard and art that must be seen and cakes that must be tasted, even for those who have business that must be completed. Be still and wait ... patiently. I don't know about the rest of you, but I have things I want to do ... NOW. I don't want to wait until things seem to work out so that I can do whatever it is I need to do. Oh no ... I NEED to do it now. But that is not what the words say and that is not what makes the things I want to do succeed.

Be still. That is the first part. Some days I am so very busy just doing ... doing, reading, watching TV, calling a friend, running to the market, doing laundry. That is not being still; but neither is sitting and doing nothing, turning the pages in a mag and flipping the remote control to one thing after another. Neither is that is not being still. 

Being still is so difficult, and yet I am learning. Being still is going somewhere and settling my mind, getting quiet within myself, settling my spirit, allowing everything else to go. And that word continues, "before the L-rd." Just being still is one thing; but it is being still before the L-rd with our mind fixed on Him that brings us our reward. "Before the L-rd" means that our minds are not blank, but are fixed on Him, on His words, on His action, on His praises. Sometimes, for me, that means that I may be singing while my mind is fixed on Him.

And then it means that while in that state of quiet, I am listening to G-d as He speaks to me about what I have recently read or seen or heard or experienced for myself. Oh yes, He does speak to us. It is just that we are so seldom quiet that we fail to hear His voice. But the voice does come and we know what G-d has for us: an idea, a path, a dream, a goal. It comes to us while we are quiet and still before HIm.

And then, it follows that we should "wait patiently" for Him. That is another very difficult thing for most of us. We may sit quietly and fix our minds on G-d and then expect things to come to us quickly ... NOW. But no, that is not what the word says. We must wait patiently. And that doesn't mean thinking about a dozen other things while waiting. This is so difficult for all of us that I am certain that is must be difficult for the most devoted follower, the most inspired of His disciples. 

Patience doesn't come easily to any of us. Oh, perhaps, to those who have grown older and have more time, perhaps, they find it easier to be patient. It surely looks that way. But for those of us who are full of ideas and plans and things to say and things to do, patience sometimes feels like wasted time. But that word says to "wait patiently" and so we must do. And waiting patiently is waiting in stillness and quiet, completely at ease, without a thought of hurry or wasted time.

And last, the word says that we must "wait patiently for Him" and therein lies the secret to creativity. If we wait for His creative idea, his music, his thought, his poetry, his design, his business plan, we will have success. Only when I am able to hear His voice and know that I have the right direction can I know that I am on the right path. Only then can I truly believe that my  "Äh-Ha" moment is real, that my plan will succeed, that the song will touch the right person, that the essay will reach the one who needs it, that my plan for the day will please Him, and that whatever I have to do that day will be the right thing to do, the one thing that will bring success or touch the most people.

That is G-d's way for us to make decisions, not exactly our way. Do I always do that? Of course, not. Last night, I bought a pair of shoes, Birki's, from QVC. There they were, the perfect color of pink, just the right style, extremely comfortable footbed, just the right thing for summer ...  and winter. I saw it. I picked up the phone, hit the speed dial for automatic ordering; and in less than a minute, a pair of pink sandals were headed my way. I didn't get still and wait patiently to learn whether I should order the shoes. I simply ordered them. Was that the OK? Probably. Was that the better way? No. Oh, I can afford them and I shall wear them with joy. 

But had I waited and listened, I probably would not have gone back later and cancelled the order so that I could order a different pair that suited me better. And had I been still and waited, I might not have even bought anything at all. I don't know. I just bought them. I am human. I don't always follow G-d's directions for successful living. But when I do, when I take the time to get still before HIm and wait patiently for Him, I don't make mistakes and I usually do those things which are very successful.

When I was teaching, I tried to do this often, to be still before Him and to wait for Him. Those were the days when the concepts I wanted my students to understand were more clear to them and my teaching seemed inspired, unlike the times when I flew into the classroom in a hurry and my explanations went right over their heads. G-d did make me a better teacher when I looked to Him for the inspiration and acknowledged His leading. I know that now. It has taken a while to realize just what made me a better teacher than I might have been:  I learned to be still before Him and to wait patiently for Him. May I remember that in all that I choose to do.

THE MANY FACES ON MY FACEBOOK PAGE

Several articles have appeared recently regarding the problems some have had with being entirely too concerned with email and FaceBook and My Space and IM and all of the other ways in which we interact with one another these days with the rapidity of the computer age. A neurology research group at the University of Southern California claimed that all of this constant messaging was depriving us of any feelings for other people and tcould confuse our "moral compass." They said that "moral decision making about other people's social situations" needed adequate time and reflection.

 

But I believe that I understand all of the negative aspects of social networking on the Internet, and I have found that I enjoy FaceBook and all of the craziness that goes on there more than anything else I have tried on the ’Net. Why? Because I have found so many wonderful people who once had been a part of my life and now have come back into it. Former students and old friends alike have brightened my days with their personal stories, their photographed adventures, and their wonderful notes to me. I have watched videos of grandchildren and their daredevil bicycle stunts and looked at very old snapshots of Homecoming Parades from schools at which I once taught.

 

It all began when two dear friends suggested that I join FaceBook so that we could all keep up with one another faster and all at the same time. What Kelly sent her mother showing what Abby had done this morning, I could see as quickly as Linda; and when Laura sent her mother a note about her son, I knew about Garrett’s successes as soon as Regina did. It kept all of us from having to send multiple notes. Great idea.

And then, one of my students saw my name somewhere (I am trying to remember who that first student was) on FaceBook. Perhaps, I commented on one of the Haltom High pages and he saw my name there. I simply don’t remember. I do know that after that first, one former student and then another began to request that I be a Friend and soon I had more Friends than I could keep up with and I loved it. Faces that I hadn’t thought about in years appeared and those former students began to tell me about the things they had done since they had left high school.

 

For me, this is all very exciting: to see the accomplishments, hear about the dreams, and know the joys of all those wonderful kids I had once taught. Before, I had known them as teenagers just beginning really to dream of what was to be in their lives. Some had plans; most had not thought of the future yet.

 

And now even those from that last class, students who must have graduated in 2000, have degrees, often more than one, have families and professions, own homes and IRA’s. They have opinions about the economy, about taxes, about politicians. They attend church and they cook out. They read books and watch House and 24 and 30 Rock. They do the very same things that my friends here in the real world do; and they often seem like closer friends than those nearer my own age. (That’s because I think I am thirty-five.)

Last week, two invited me to go to lunch with them. I did; and we ate Mexican food and drank very sour Margaritas and talked and laughed for three hours before we each had to go our own way. They brought up fond memories, but mostly they talked about the terrific things that had happened in their lives since they were in my class. They talked about difficult times with parents, with death in their families, with their own teenagers; and they talked about the joyful times, about grandchildren and vacation trips, and family reunions; about their churches and the joy they had found in giving their lives to G-d; they talked about their wonderful husbands and their interesting jobs; and they did seem like very old friends rather than young people I once taught.

And they weren't the first. Before that, I had gone to the Antique Mall to eat at the tearoom there with another dear woman who is finishing her second degree this spring. She, too, had all sorts of stories to tell, but not about marriage and children. She talked about many things she had learned and done while studying at the University; she described several trips she had taken and the places she had been and the places she yet wanted to go. We talked about ideas and about books and movies and laughed at the ones we both had liked and disliked. She talked about politics and about her own independance. And she was no longer a dear, sweet teenage girl in love with movies and jewelry and shoes. She was a strong, independant young woman, filled with ideas and filled with plans, who knows where she is going and is eager to get there.

There are many other young (and older) adults out there with whom I correspond on FaceBook who were once my students; and they have written these same things to me about their ideas and their hopes and dreams, about their families and their jobs, about joys and disappointments. They have written about all the books they have read and the ideas those books stiumulated; and they have written about the difficult times they have gone through trying to get over the earlier crazinesses that came between them and their parents or between them and G-d.

One has talked about his tortured soul and the torch he has carried for forty years; another, about the sadness that comes when a marriage ends and he is left with a young child who doesn't understand. One writes every week about how very much he loves his wife and how happy he is' and the pride in his voice and the joy on his face tell us all that he is quite sincere) while another writes of the pride he has in owning his own shop where he makes furniture by hand.One is a minister in New York; another a major in the Pentagon. One is a fireman and an EMT; and still another is a coach in the high school where I taught English forty years ago; and another coaches his daughter's softball team here locally. All of them together paint a beautiful picture of America; and I am thrilled that I get to read this and know this and see that this country does have a good future with these young adults         taking on the job of continuing what so many have begun.

A BILL TO REQUIRE CONGRESS

In January, Representative John Shadegg of Arizona, along with fifteen Co-Sponsors introduced into the House of Representatives, HR 450 IH, a bill to require Congress to specify the source of authority under the Constitution of the United States for any law which they enacted. Seems simple enough, doesn't it? But (if you had Ms Hillyer for American history, you know) bills in Congress are written in a very precise verbiage that can, and often does, sound confusing.

So, if I may translate for a moment without changing one jot or tittle (and yes, I know what those are) of this bill. What it says is that if passed, this bill would require that anyone presenting a bill to be enacted as a law before either House would be required to show exactly where in the Constitution of the United States, the authority to make such a law exists. No authority for such in the Constitution? No law.  Simple.

Who knows? With this law (the enumerated powers act)  enacted, a Representative would truly have to honor his oath to "support and defend the Constitution of the United States,"  rather than merely give lip service to it.

And there might be several laws out there right now that would have to be repealed for being in direct conflict with the Constitution. This bill is neither pro-Republican nor Pro-Democrat; it is Pro-Constitution and that makes it Pro-American.

Passage of this bill would make each lawmaker in Washington D.C. accountable to the Constitution. Sadly, the bill has been in committee for three and one-half months. Why is it not out? Why is it being passed over? Do we have that many in Congress afraid that their own private little programs might be in conflict with the Constitution? Do they fear a bill which would require our laws remain true to the Constitution?

What is wrong with this picture?

WORDS I LIVE BY

Earlier I was sending a message to several of my FaceBook Friends and was cut off. Therefore, all of you get to read the message. I was writing about ideas by which I have learned to live; and the one for this day was " In all thy ways, acknowledge Him and He will direct your paths."  All of us have wondered from time to time, what we were supposed to be doing or where we were going or what we were here for.

 

Not in a spiritual way necessarily, but in life, generally. I once was fired for being a poor teacher and I was heart broken because I knew that was not true. I had offended someone. Still, I was lost, depressed, mired in self-pity and had no direction whatsoever. No, I wasn't in a church, hadn't been in years; but my DH and I did often talk about G-d. We had grown up with the belief that He was in charge.

 

I had quite a depressed summer. No district wanted me. One Tuesday night I went to a play at Casa Manana (my sister kept season tickets) and saw someone with whom I had been in college 14 years before. When I told her that I was looking for a teaching position, she simply asked whether I had been to the Birdville District. I thanked her and the next week, went for an interview.

 

A week later, I signed the contract that completely changed my life in every way. Two years later, my life was changed. A year or two later, looking back on the entire situation, I could only realize that each thing which had occurred (including being fired) led as straight to the teacher I became as if I had had a map. I had not. I had stumbled rather blindly into the happiest times of my entire life.

 

Several years later as I changed from teaching choral music to teaching high school English, I realized that my path had been as directed as if I had had a GPS. Since that time, I have known that as long as I acknowledge G-d in my life, He does direct my path and it is always a very good path. Most of you only knew me after...  And the person you know and the teaching you have had are all the product of G-d's leadership and direction.

 

Just type those words and make them into a small poster for yourself; put them where you will see them every day (on the mirror, on your steering wheel, on the fridge door -- I put these words .. and others .. on my gradebook pages -- where ever you will see them) and make these words a part of your life every day.

 

BTW,  the fact that you don't believe doesn't change the fact that the words are true. When you acknowledge G-d in the things you do, He does direct your path.

COLOURING MY FACE

I really believe that one of the most enjoyable and creative things that many women do is play with color: in their home decor, their clothing, even their office surroundings; but the most fun they have is in playing with all of the wonderful colors there are out there for putting on the face.

To confess, I have loved eyeshadow since I first found it in 1955. That's right: everyone had a fit. It simpy was not done and especially by 16 year olds. I don't think that anyone I knew wore eyeshadow. But putting pretty colors on my face felt so RIGHT. And I have done just that ever since ... even after being thoroughly scolded by my very first HS principal for whom I taught. Oh my. you would have thought that I was a fallen woman.

Buit I do love color. I'm sure that I first wore some dreadful shade of bright blue; but I learned. These days, I have no real need ever to purchase another shade of anything; and yet, the purveyors of colors come up with delicate new shades with only nuances of difference from one another. And I WANT them. And I buy them and I wear them.  I wear eyeshadow to go to the market or the dry cleaner! I wear eye color to go for a hamburger at Kinkaid's. For Heaven's sake, I put on eye color to go to the pool at the Fitness Center!

I have worn many different brands and colors, but I want to tell you about three of them. First, thirty or forty years ago, there was Borghese: those wonderful boxes of 20 and 30 different colors that they would put out 3 or 4 times a year. Borghese must have had the richest, most intense pigments of any manufacturer anywhere. And 'back in that day' the colors were just that intense. I still have a box of two to wear together: one a deep teal blue; the other, the richest dark purple I have seen. NO, I don't wear them together. It would be a little much these days. But I do find ways to wear them/

And those boxes? I still have two of them, carefully preserved with the tiny pools of brilliant color with Italian names. And those I do wear from time to time. Who could resist Teal Vivente and Frascatti Gold or Violetto Regalito and Aurora Lustro. I want to paint with those and make pretty shadows on my face.

And BeautyControl once made the most beautiful combination package of three little pink pads of color,  from very pale to a lovely rose. Oh my. I bought several boxes of those so that I would never be without my choice of the the perfect colors to be pretty in pink. And yes, BeautyControl has all kinds of lovely colors that are perfect for everyone who would want to wear eyecolor! They don't only have pinks. That would be terrible. NO, they make everything you can dream of and theye put them in packages of twos and threes that you put together to get all kinds of lovely shadings.  And they have the tools, the brushes, everything that makes painting and coloring an easy and enjoyable thing to do. And consultants who can tech you just how to use them on your very own face.

Yet, it is BareMinerals that must have 75-100 different colors of eyecolor. I think that Leslie must constantly develop new color, whatever she is doing, through dinner, in the bathtub, driving down the street. There is Chameleon, a dusty turquoise that I NEED today! and Faith which is a sort of a lighter shade of the same color. Who could forget Envy? Green ? Right! Showers, which is a dusty blue green and Spirited which is darker and has a more intense color. In other words, there are dozens and dozens of blues and greens , each a little different. Then, there are the roses and purples: dozens and dozens of slightly different  colors so that one is PERFECT just for you. You can have anything you want. Just keep looking. And when you have found it, color your face!

Can you see all the fun that is to be had just with eyeshadow. And everyone of these manufacturers offers lessons and diagrams and instructions on how to make your eyes have all kinds of looks. Think of the fun. Think of the creativity. You may never wear some of the designs you come up with outside your bathroom, but what fun you can have playing. That is the only way to learn how to give yourself the 'smokey eye' or the 'natural' look. It just doesn't happen the very first time, but a trial run or two and you can have as much fun as I do coloring.

I hear you: someone out there is asking why would you want to color your face. Well. look in the mirror. Not many of us have the perfect face or the perfect eyes. In fact, without color, my eyes almost disappear from my face. The lashes are pale,  almost the same color as the skin behind them. They don't show without some additional color. But after I have applied my magic with all of the beautiful colors at hand, I have EYES.  And I love the look. You know, at seventy years, I could look old and tired ... and I do ... until I add a little (or a lot of) color.  no... no... no.... when I apply a lot of color, I do not look like a clown. Those pale pinks from BeautyControl that blend softly around my eyes light them and give my eyes a lift ... without surgery. Try it and you will find the delight that we females can have when we play with color right there on our own faces.

I LOVE MY OWN COOKING!

What shall I meander on about tonight? I thought for a while, I would write about doing laundry; but that might have been depressing. And I thought about telling about my FaceBook experiences; but the same people would probably read this that read my comments there. And  so, I decided to write about one of very favorite subjects: food.

As I wrote last, I have been diagnosed as diabetic and that does limit some things; but as I have usually eaten a fairly good diet, there is not a huge difference in what I like and what I can (am supposed to) eat. For instance, tonight, when I finally had a chance to eat supper, I quickly grilled a piece of orange roughy. I have a Sunbeam Rocket Grill ($30 at QVC) and all I have to do is place the piece of fish inside the parchment envelope, hang in the grill, dial up two minutes, and wait.

Tonight, when the bell rang, I had this wonderful piece of fish, perfectly cooked, and I feasted. And yes, I had that with raw veggies; but an hour later, after I finished the laundry, I had the dish for which I had been waiting all afternoon: a fruit salad. I had cut up and tossed together fresh pineapple and fresh strawberries, fresh blackberries, sliced grapes, and a not quite ripe pear -- that's the way I like pears -- to which I added a banana and a some frozen peaches, some chopped pecans, and a little whipped cream (the fat content slows down the rapid acting glucose from the fruit). Oh my, that was so good.

How could anyone not enjoy fresh fruit in the spring? For the last three years, I have eaten 2 or 3 quarts of strawberries a week from April through September and I have been in Heaven. (Then, from October through January or February, I eat Honey Crisp apples, at least one a day; and although that begins to be costly -- Do you know what apples cost these days?-- I eat and I enjoy. A Honey Crisp apple will make a meal and with a grilled cheese sandwich, it makes a feast.)

Grilled cheese sandwiches: another supposed no-no; but I have a secret: Mission Carb Balance flour whole wheat tortillas. I take two of those and spread the tiniest amount of soft, real butter (Why would anyone eat that other stuff, half plastic and half grease?) and with the back of a spoon, smear it as lightly as possible on one side of each tortilla; and then with the edge of that same spoon, rake off any butter that will come off. That leaves the smallest amount, just enough to add real butter taste and help the tortilla crisp. I put one down on the griddle (YES, buttered side down), put some thinnly sliced cheddar cheese on it, top it with the second tortilla (buttered side up); and soon, I have the grilled cheese sandwich of my dream. I love it.

OK. You call it a quesadilla. That is what it is; but it does take the place of the old grilled cheese very nicely. I love my own cooking.

MY SWEET, SWEET LIFE

I suppose that now is as good a time as any to say that I have been diagnosed as having diabetes, type 2. Now, I had always been aware of the disease and what caused it and what should be done. My grandmother was diabetic and my mother, the RN, had taught me early the wisdom of eating real foods, raw vegetables and fresh fruit. Fast food really wasn't a presence in my life until I had been married several years; and by then, my husband was quite spoiled to my cooking and we ate well almost every day. He loved the raw vegetables and big salads; and they often made up the bulk of our meals.

Of course, after we retired to Childress, David became quite ill with CIDP and wanted little food (although he continued to want raw salads, chocolate and popcorn!); and my Fibromyalgia grew worse to the point that I had no energy for anything. We did eat more hamburgers, but the salads continued to be his favorite food.

And every time he was in the hospital for several days, his blood glucose would be elevated and they would need to give him insulin. When he came home, we would check his blood glucose often and we watched what he ate; but the doctors did not put him on medication as they seemed to believe that it was one of those "in the hospital" things.

We did continue to monitor his blood sugar as often as he would allow me to stick his finger; and he didn't eat as many Hershey bars as he wanted. I will confess right now that had I known that he would only live a little longer, I would have let him eat anything he wanted; and I must have 'known' something as I did regularly cook things for him that he really wanted: chocolate cake or pecan pie, fruitcake (which he tried to live on while I was in the hospital one time!) or fudge.

And because of those early warnings in my family, I checked my blood glucose about once or twice a week to make sure that I was as well off as I thought; and it was fine. Even when I was hospitalized for several days in 2003, my blood glucose was fine. In fact, the doctor laughed that that was the only number that was in the normal range.

A year before, my wonderful family doctor had told me about a conference he had been to in Dallas where several specialists in Fibromyalgia had talked about the various things they were finding that helped with the severe pain, the sleeplessness, or the complete exhaustion. There, one doctor had suggested the use of a very small dose of Zyprexia taken at 7 PM as being valuable at giving the patient more energy in the morning.

And thus, I began taking Zyprexia. Yes, I knew that it was some sort of psychotic drug; but I did feel better in the mornings and I noticed no other change. It had no side effects. Hooray for no side effects and a good result. And so life went on. 

2003 started out rather difficult. I was hospitalized with severe anemia, exhaustion, dehydration, and I don't really know what all was wrong. I was weak, couldn't walk across the floor without help, had hallucinations, had strange muscle jerks; all kinds of strange things were going on inside of me. After I was released, David had shoulder surgery in Amarillo. He grew more detached; the dementia increased.

March passed in a blur and in April I went back to my doctor as I was completely wiped out. I couldn't do anything. I couldn't care for David. And when he did the blood work that time, it showed my blood glucose elevated, where it had never been before. I was diabetic.

I am not sure just when the FDA announced that many who were taking Zyprexia were developing diabetes, but when I heard the news, I was devastated. And the truth about all of that is that the Zyprexia hadn't really even made my life any better at all.

 

It did take another year or two for me to settle in Fort Worth and find a geriatric doctor who addressed the diabetes by putting me on oral medication. No one ever told me to monitor my blood glucose or watch what I ate; but being a reader and having known the diabetics in my family, I did know how to care for myself and I do.

 

Strange ending for a blog, I suppose; but I couldn’t keep on writing and talk about the Fibro or about creativity or music or sewing or embroidery or church or anything else about my life, without being clear about the thing that controls so much of what I do. Now, you know.

SING WITH ME

I have been looking for a church, a church that would suit me completely. Now, I am wise enough to know that that is an impossibility, but I do have a few things that I have to have to keep me attending. Along with all of the things most people seek in a church, I want wonderful music. And that one thing causes me big problems. I once was a part of a church with almost exactly the right music; but that music program is no more. 

 

There is no more choir, instead a worship team that not only is too amplified, but also sings too many songs that no one in the congregation knows or can learn in one singing. And so no one in the congregation sings along. Now, do not misunderstand: I love worship music. It's just that I want all of us to sing along and worship together, not watch a performance.

 

I believe that all of us respond to good music, although each of us may often respond to music that is different from the music to which someone else may respond. But everyone responds to beautiful music that lifts up the Name of G-d. Music is able to draw people to G-d in ways that no other thing, aside from Scripture, not even great sermons, can. That music need not be any one particular kind; it simply needs to be beautiful music. 

 

I love classical music, music that has been a part of the church for four hundred years; but I also love contemporary church music. The old hymns written by the great hymn writers of the Eighteenth Century can still lead those who hear them as well as those who sing them to a greater understanding of G-d's grace. And our singing the more popular hymns of the Nineteenth and Early Twentieth Century often opens Heaven's windows and sends Heaven's blessings showering upon us.

 

Truthfully, I have learned that every hymn in any given denominational hymnal can be the vehicle through which we can praise G-d in every circumstance as well as the vehicle with which we can open up the Heavens to pour out His abundant Goodness upon us. It is all dependant upon the attitude of those who lead the congregation in its singing as well as the worshipful attitude of those who sing. If we are attuned to G-d, then the music He has given us will reach out to Him and we will be blessed.

 

And so, you ask, what kind of music am I looking for? Music that leads us to worship G-d, music that lifts our souls from the everyday of every day and sends those souls soaring to Heaven, music that causes G-d to lean a little nearer to us, music that causes us to reach out to seek G-d in His Glory.

 

I want music that is Scriptural, that sings from the Word, itself; and I want music that is musical, following in the traditions of great music. It needs to be singable by masses of people and at the same time, truly beautiful. Worship music has to be accessible to the multitude so that they can sing along and worship with the musicians.

 

And so, I look for a church where I can sing. I long for music that the congregation can sing spontaneously as it arises from their hearts. I know that I am not alone in this, that there are others who long for a simple Psalm or an old hymn sung by a congregation that is fully attuned to the music and understands and enjoys every word it sings. 

 

And that is why we have found a site on the Internet where we can listen to just that: the most beautiful music this side of Heaven,   PBNRadio.com  

 

I will be there listening and I know that many of you will be also.

 

Until then, you will see me visiting from church to church, looking for a great preacher and a wonderful pastor (they do not have to be the same person), a place where G-d is lifted up in everything that is done, and a place where I can sing with the congregation to the glory of G-d.

 

 

 

 

 

WHAT A DAY! NO, WHAT A WEEK!

What a day this has been! And the next line of that song is??? And if I am in a rare mood, it is due to the fact that the Fibromyalgia, which I battle every day, put me down today. Apparently, the last two days of more hours than usual of activity sent my body into some sort of hibernation.

 

For several hours, all I could do was sit on the sofa and try to read, only to wake an hour later to discover that I had been sleeping; and immediately sleep again, only to wake ...  and then sleep again ... wake and try to watch TV and then wake again, wondering what was wrong and why I felt as if something terrible had happened.

 

And then when I was awake enough to try to move, whenever I attempted to walk to the kitchen (hereafter known as the Big K) or to the door, I found that I had to hold on to something, the furniture and even the wall as I passed, in order to walk at all. Nothing would work. Wobbly knees, clumsy feet ... it was quite a scene.

 

Finally, about dark, that seemed to pass. I think all of that is now over. And so I am thinking about my writing and whether I should quit for the night or attempt to talk about my heart's great love, music. I came to the computer this morning to write about music and waked several hours later. I am now back at the computer, trying once again to say what I want to say.