We have all heard the expression. We have all used it.
When I find enough time, I will call my friend.
When I find the time, I will make that present for a birthday gift.
When I find the time, I will read that book everyone is talking about.
If we have to find the time, where did we loose it? When did we loose it?
We even say we will make time. Man, I want to learn that. How would you go about making time? Maybe you could turn your clock back an hour. Or maybe there is an hour bush out in the back yard that you could go pluck some time from.
Why do we do this?
We know you can't make time. We also know you can't find time.
Where would it hide, under the bed? In the rose garden? Perhaps, in the closet?
What I do know is that each day is 24 hours long. 1440 minutes. 86400 seconds. Now how are you going to stretch that? Or find more of it? You can't.
You can however, manage it better.
You could spend less time watching re-runs of Gilligan's Island. You could spend that time writing.
You could spend less time wondering where the time went and just use it to call that friend.
You could spend less time berating yourself for wasting time.
Just spend it with joy.
If your joy is fifteen minutes of doing nothing, then do it.
What we should all do is try to do things with our time that makes us pleased with how we spend our
time, because, spend it we shall. We have no choice. It comes and it goes. What we do with it is our choice.
Did you know that God made time? At the time of creation, he made the sun and moon to tell the difference between night and day. The first day was decided by the passing of the evening and morning. So, if God made it and ordained it, we should use it to the fullest extent we can.
We should praise and thank God with our time by using wisely.
Wisely means doing something that you enjoy or that will accomplish what you want. If you want to get a degree, study and do it. It won't be a waste of time. You may not be able to go and play as much as you want, but you will have the degree. You will have done what you want. In all that studying, reading and writing, take time out, maybe on your way to the next class to notice what you pass. It won't take that much time, and you may see something interesting. Make a note of it when you get to class.
Wisely also means to do with intention.
Do what makes your life lighter. Laugh. Love. Live.
Until next time.
Tuesday, February 25, 2014
Thursday, February 13, 2014
Thank You God for Poop
When my kids were younger, grade school, I was the superintendent for our church's VBS. For those of you who may not know it is Vacation Bible School.
We were new to the area and the church, so we didn't know all the kids and their backgrounds.
Everyone knew Paul. He was ornery and cute as a button. He lived to shock. He was in first grade and the teachers for that class were high school girls. One was the teacher and the other was her assistant.
Vacation Bible School is chaotic with children meeting friends they hadn't seen in a month since the end of school. Making new friends from children outside the church and community, invited by friends and relatives to take part.
It was the third day of a five day course.
The schedule was that the children met en masse to do music, then divided into groups that went to crafts, treats, games or to story time. The teachers were to do crafts and story time. There were others in charge of treats and out side time.
His teachers had all ready had his group for crafts and had a break while they were in treats. They came together to do the story time and finished the story time with prayers.
Each child was asked what they were grateful for, and most of the ten children had said moms, dads, dogs, Jesus, and the teachers. Paul, however, said he was grateful for poop.
It brought the room down to hysterics. The boys thought it funny. The girls thought it was gross. Paul grinned.
The teacher said amen.
When the kids were gone and we were all discussing the day, Paul's teacher said we had something interesting happen. And then they told the story.
It brought the room down. The Pastor was not happy. The superintendent thought it was funny.
They didn't ask me to reprise my job.
As I grow older, I fully appreciate Paul's thankfulness for poop.
We were new to the area and the church, so we didn't know all the kids and their backgrounds.
Everyone knew Paul. He was ornery and cute as a button. He lived to shock. He was in first grade and the teachers for that class were high school girls. One was the teacher and the other was her assistant.
Vacation Bible School is chaotic with children meeting friends they hadn't seen in a month since the end of school. Making new friends from children outside the church and community, invited by friends and relatives to take part.
It was the third day of a five day course.
The schedule was that the children met en masse to do music, then divided into groups that went to crafts, treats, games or to story time. The teachers were to do crafts and story time. There were others in charge of treats and out side time.
His teachers had all ready had his group for crafts and had a break while they were in treats. They came together to do the story time and finished the story time with prayers.
Each child was asked what they were grateful for, and most of the ten children had said moms, dads, dogs, Jesus, and the teachers. Paul, however, said he was grateful for poop.
It brought the room down to hysterics. The boys thought it funny. The girls thought it was gross. Paul grinned.
The teacher said amen.
When the kids were gone and we were all discussing the day, Paul's teacher said we had something interesting happen. And then they told the story.
It brought the room down. The Pastor was not happy. The superintendent thought it was funny.
They didn't ask me to reprise my job.
As I grow older, I fully appreciate Paul's thankfulness for poop.
Sunday, January 26, 2014
Compliments
Today I ran across an old Peanuts comic strip. It was Rerun and Charlie's little sister. She told him he had nice shoes. His response was to tell her all about them. Her answer was, " When you get a compliment, all you have to say is, 'Thank you'."
That has been one of my problems in life. I don't seem to know how to accept a compliment. It isn't just me.
We all seem to have to explain why what we have is nice
.
If I get a compliment on an outfit I am wearing, I usually have to say, " This old thing?". Or I have to explain where I got it and why.
Why is it that we feel we cannot just say, " Thank you" ?
Does it go to the tradition of down playing what you have to show respect to the other person? I know that in the Eastern tradition is you are to say how humble your abode is and how lowly your things are, and that in the American Indian tradition it is also to make yourself appear lower than your guest. Are we afraid God will take away our blessings if we appear too proud of what we have?
I also know that the Bible teaches against being a braggart, but really is accepting a compliment bragging?
I know that as a complimenter, it makes my heart sing when the receiver just says thank you.
I feel as though they appreciate my appreciation of their things and they don't need to apologize for their wealth as compared to mine. I am not comparing when I see someone in a nice Ferrari or a mink stole or even a pretty pair of flip flops. I just like what I see and want them to know it.
I know that I also have a problem accepting a compliment. I am getting better and I started trying to do a better job of saying thank you in my prayers. We are to ask for things we want, but we are also to praise and thank
.
There is an old joke that goes something like this:
Jacob and Tevye are pulling their carts together and talking about life and things. Tevye asks Jacob how things are going. Jacob says they are wonderful. His wife fixed a nice bowl of tea for breakfast this morning and then Jacob set out for his day. His hen laid one egg that they would have for dinner. His ox was doing fine on three legs. God is good.
Jacob asks Tevye how he is doing and Tevye says that there has been no rain for days, the grass is too short for his ox to eat, the hen is down to one egg every other day, the tea is almost gone.
God looks down and says if Jacob thinks he is having a great day, now wait till he sees what I have for him tomorrow. And if Tevye thinks things are bad now wait till I'm through with him.
I know that God is not vengeful, but don't you know he gets tired of us saying we have a nice life, but it could be better if we had two cars. It would be nicer to have a new leather coat. It would be great to eat steak once a week.
But doesn't our car work? Isn't my coat warm? Don't we have meat everyday? Why not say thank you for what you have?
I think the simple answer is we don't think about it.
I rarely thank my husband for working and providing for us. It's his job.
It is God's job to supply us with what we want. Not really. He has given us what we need. What we want is just that what WE want.
So, when someone says, " Nice blouse" I will... say "Thank you".
That has been one of my problems in life. I don't seem to know how to accept a compliment. It isn't just me.
We all seem to have to explain why what we have is nice
.
If I get a compliment on an outfit I am wearing, I usually have to say, " This old thing?". Or I have to explain where I got it and why.
Why is it that we feel we cannot just say, " Thank you" ?
Does it go to the tradition of down playing what you have to show respect to the other person? I know that in the Eastern tradition is you are to say how humble your abode is and how lowly your things are, and that in the American Indian tradition it is also to make yourself appear lower than your guest. Are we afraid God will take away our blessings if we appear too proud of what we have?
I also know that the Bible teaches against being a braggart, but really is accepting a compliment bragging?
I know that as a complimenter, it makes my heart sing when the receiver just says thank you.
I feel as though they appreciate my appreciation of their things and they don't need to apologize for their wealth as compared to mine. I am not comparing when I see someone in a nice Ferrari or a mink stole or even a pretty pair of flip flops. I just like what I see and want them to know it.
I know that I also have a problem accepting a compliment. I am getting better and I started trying to do a better job of saying thank you in my prayers. We are to ask for things we want, but we are also to praise and thank
.
There is an old joke that goes something like this:
Jacob and Tevye are pulling their carts together and talking about life and things. Tevye asks Jacob how things are going. Jacob says they are wonderful. His wife fixed a nice bowl of tea for breakfast this morning and then Jacob set out for his day. His hen laid one egg that they would have for dinner. His ox was doing fine on three legs. God is good.
Jacob asks Tevye how he is doing and Tevye says that there has been no rain for days, the grass is too short for his ox to eat, the hen is down to one egg every other day, the tea is almost gone.
God looks down and says if Jacob thinks he is having a great day, now wait till he sees what I have for him tomorrow. And if Tevye thinks things are bad now wait till I'm through with him.
I know that God is not vengeful, but don't you know he gets tired of us saying we have a nice life, but it could be better if we had two cars. It would be nicer to have a new leather coat. It would be great to eat steak once a week.
But doesn't our car work? Isn't my coat warm? Don't we have meat everyday? Why not say thank you for what you have?
I think the simple answer is we don't think about it.
I rarely thank my husband for working and providing for us. It's his job.
It is God's job to supply us with what we want. Not really. He has given us what we need. What we want is just that what WE want.
So, when someone says, " Nice blouse" I will... say "Thank you".
Thursday, January 23, 2014
Again
So, here I am again. Looking at a blank screen thinking I should fill it with wit and wisdom.
Not sure I can, but am going to try to fill it with 500 words.
There is a lady who is in Idaho from our 500 group who has had the tragedy of losing a friend and neighbor to murder by her husband. He shot her, their two children and her mother, then himself.
I have lost a sister-in-law and her three children to the act of her husband. He drove the car into the lake and got out alive. He was convicted of negligible homicide and fined four thousand dollars. This was over thirty years ago. It still hurts.
The hurt from a loss continues, but lessens. Sometimes. Sometimes, it is close and real. Sometimes just history.
I remember trying to console our children on the loss. It wasn't easy. It never is. The best thing is to remember the good times, and when it is new, when it is fresh, the only thing you remember or feel is hurt. Loss. Anger. Trying to understand. You may never know why or understand, but you can remember their laughter as they ran through the sprinkler, or the momma's smile when she looked at them.
It will be a while, and yet, on the way home from the funeral, she may smile at what her friend may have said the last time they were together.
We need to hug each other while we can, even if it is long distance and over the internet.
We need to laugh and smile.
We need to grieve the way we need to. Don't rush through it. Don't rush through life.
Be kind to each other and let us help any way we can.
Not sure I can, but am going to try to fill it with 500 words.
There is a lady who is in Idaho from our 500 group who has had the tragedy of losing a friend and neighbor to murder by her husband. He shot her, their two children and her mother, then himself.
I have lost a sister-in-law and her three children to the act of her husband. He drove the car into the lake and got out alive. He was convicted of negligible homicide and fined four thousand dollars. This was over thirty years ago. It still hurts.
The hurt from a loss continues, but lessens. Sometimes. Sometimes, it is close and real. Sometimes just history.
I remember trying to console our children on the loss. It wasn't easy. It never is. The best thing is to remember the good times, and when it is new, when it is fresh, the only thing you remember or feel is hurt. Loss. Anger. Trying to understand. You may never know why or understand, but you can remember their laughter as they ran through the sprinkler, or the momma's smile when she looked at them.
It will be a while, and yet, on the way home from the funeral, she may smile at what her friend may have said the last time they were together.
We need to hug each other while we can, even if it is long distance and over the internet.
We need to laugh and smile.
We need to grieve the way we need to. Don't rush through it. Don't rush through life.
Be kind to each other and let us help any way we can.
Computers
I have worked with computers for about twelve years. Meaning that I have gotten on the internet, checked e-mails, and stored stuff. I have even uploaded pictures to my computer and e-mailed them to other people. I have even posted them on Facebook.
However, do I know how to cut and paste? Do I know how to move sections of the written word around and make a better placement of it? Um, not with any confidence. I do it and fifty percent of the time it works.
I have tried going to computer classes, but most of the ones I have attended, I know more than they are teaching, i.e. I know how to boot it up and shut it down and even how to turn on the screen. One class I attended, they spent the two hours on doing just that. So, I was bored and didn't go back.
My computer manages to do wonderful things, like have an magnified picture on my screen when I awake it from sleep mode. The magnification is the same as it had been before, but my screensaver is three times the size it should be. Changing the magnification doesn't do it. The only thing that works is rebooting and when I do I that all my gadgets are in the middle of the screen instead of at the right side where they when they went to sleep.
I have talked to several people about this and even went to Google. The people on Google only think it applies to laptops....not so. Mine is a pc. Once when I went to Google I plugged in " enlarged" picture, without the quotations and would you believe, I got a million hits and one of them actually pertained to my computer? I did not know so many parts of the human body could be enlarged.
I do love my computer and how I can write and store stuff on it. The problem? Where did I store it and how do I retrieve it? A story for another day.
Come back and visit again.
However, do I know how to cut and paste? Do I know how to move sections of the written word around and make a better placement of it? Um, not with any confidence. I do it and fifty percent of the time it works.
I have tried going to computer classes, but most of the ones I have attended, I know more than they are teaching, i.e. I know how to boot it up and shut it down and even how to turn on the screen. One class I attended, they spent the two hours on doing just that. So, I was bored and didn't go back.
My computer manages to do wonderful things, like have an magnified picture on my screen when I awake it from sleep mode. The magnification is the same as it had been before, but my screensaver is three times the size it should be. Changing the magnification doesn't do it. The only thing that works is rebooting and when I do I that all my gadgets are in the middle of the screen instead of at the right side where they when they went to sleep.
I have talked to several people about this and even went to Google. The people on Google only think it applies to laptops....not so. Mine is a pc. Once when I went to Google I plugged in " enlarged" picture, without the quotations and would you believe, I got a million hits and one of them actually pertained to my computer? I did not know so many parts of the human body could be enlarged.
I do love my computer and how I can write and store stuff on it. The problem? Where did I store it and how do I retrieve it? A story for another day.
Come back and visit again.
Thursday, January 16, 2014
'Fraidy Cat
" 'Fraidy Cat," said Myself.
" Am not." Me replied.
"Then open the door." Myself said.
" What door?", Me said.
"The one behind you. The one marked 'writer'," Myself said.
"Well, I will," Me said, scuffing a toe.
"Why not now? You're right here. It's right here," Myself explained.
"I don't want to do it in front of anybody,", Me said.
" Not just anybody. I am YOU," Myself said.
" Yeah, but you are right here."
"What are you hiding?"
" Nothing."
"What are you hiding from?" Myself asked.
" You."
" How can that be? I'm you."
"I know that. I just want to be the only one that does this. The only one to share. To choose what
"I share," Me said.
"Well, how you gonna do that? You know it's not just the two of us. I will want to be in on it, too."
" I know. I know."
"What else are you afraid of? What is dwelling behind that door?" Myself asked.
"A monster. A dragon, in fact. With wings and fire," Me shuddered.
" Are you crazy? There is no dragon. Maybe a spider or two," Myself said.
" Yes, with big hairy legs and bags full of venom," Me's eyes grew large as she spoke.
"Oh, for heaven's sake. Just open the door, turn on the light and the spiders will scurry away.
"You are so silly." Myself reached for the door and Me slapped her hands away.
"No! That's not for you to do. It is for me to do! If I don't it the monster wins. Meaning if I don't
write my stories won't get told and will die before they are born. "
Myself shook her head and waited.
Me waited.
" What's going on? Why are you just standing there? Why don't you open the door?" Myself
asked.
" Waiting for the muse," Me replied.
" What's a muse and why does it have to show up?", Myself asked.
" The muse," Me sighed, "is what makes a writer a writer."
" Are you nuts? It's writing that makes a writer." She turned and stomped two steps away.
"No. Not nuts. Everything we read says you have to wait on the muse. If she doesn't show up, you
"can't write." Me explained.
"Let me get this straight. You can't be a writer unless you open the door. You can't write if the muse
"doesn't show up. AND you can't be a writer unless you write. Is that correct?" Myself questioned.
" Well. When you put it like that it sounds stupid, but yeah, that's about the way of it. That's not
"quite all of it, but yeah. Yeah. That's right." Me said.
"Why don't you start by opening the door. Let's what is really there." Myself said.
"I can't. I just can't", Me said.
"What do you think is going to be there? Spiders and dragons, but what else?" Myself tapped her
toes. Waiting.
" Dark. I expect it to be dark. Maybe lightning flashing, dragons fighting and giant spiders running
around." Me shuddered as she spoke.
"Oh, good grief," Me said, voice dripping with sarcasm.
" Impossible to open it. Won't. Can't." Me said.
" Um, what's gives here?" I asked.
" She won't open the door," Myself said.
" Why?", I asked.
" Scared. To. Death." Me replied.
" Of what?" I asked.
" Oh, trust me, you really don't want to know," Myself said.
" I do. I will.", I said.
" Spiders, dragons, and dark.", Me replied.
" Okay enough."
I opened the door.
" Good Grief," Myself said.
" Oh", Me said.
Out of the door came sunshine, the smell of sweet roses and ...a gecko with a briefcase marked,
' Writer'. He handed it to me and went back to lying in the sun.
" Am not." Me replied.
"Then open the door." Myself said.
" What door?", Me said.
"The one behind you. The one marked 'writer'," Myself said.
"Well, I will," Me said, scuffing a toe.
"Why not now? You're right here. It's right here," Myself explained.
"I don't want to do it in front of anybody,", Me said.
" Not just anybody. I am YOU," Myself said.
" Yeah, but you are right here."
"What are you hiding?"
" Nothing."
"What are you hiding from?" Myself asked.
" You."
" How can that be? I'm you."
"I know that. I just want to be the only one that does this. The only one to share. To choose what
"I share," Me said.
"Well, how you gonna do that? You know it's not just the two of us. I will want to be in on it, too."
" I know. I know."
"What else are you afraid of? What is dwelling behind that door?" Myself asked.
"A monster. A dragon, in fact. With wings and fire," Me shuddered.
" Are you crazy? There is no dragon. Maybe a spider or two," Myself said.
" Yes, with big hairy legs and bags full of venom," Me's eyes grew large as she spoke.
"Oh, for heaven's sake. Just open the door, turn on the light and the spiders will scurry away.
"You are so silly." Myself reached for the door and Me slapped her hands away.
"No! That's not for you to do. It is for me to do! If I don't it the monster wins. Meaning if I don't
write my stories won't get told and will die before they are born. "
Myself shook her head and waited.
Me waited.
" What's going on? Why are you just standing there? Why don't you open the door?" Myself
asked.
" Waiting for the muse," Me replied.
" What's a muse and why does it have to show up?", Myself asked.
" The muse," Me sighed, "is what makes a writer a writer."
" Are you nuts? It's writing that makes a writer." She turned and stomped two steps away.
"No. Not nuts. Everything we read says you have to wait on the muse. If she doesn't show up, you
"can't write." Me explained.
"Let me get this straight. You can't be a writer unless you open the door. You can't write if the muse
"doesn't show up. AND you can't be a writer unless you write. Is that correct?" Myself questioned.
" Well. When you put it like that it sounds stupid, but yeah, that's about the way of it. That's not
"quite all of it, but yeah. Yeah. That's right." Me said.
"Why don't you start by opening the door. Let's what is really there." Myself said.
"I can't. I just can't", Me said.
"What do you think is going to be there? Spiders and dragons, but what else?" Myself tapped her
toes. Waiting.
" Dark. I expect it to be dark. Maybe lightning flashing, dragons fighting and giant spiders running
around." Me shuddered as she spoke.
"Oh, good grief," Me said, voice dripping with sarcasm.
" Impossible to open it. Won't. Can't." Me said.
" Um, what's gives here?" I asked.
" She won't open the door," Myself said.
" Why?", I asked.
" Scared. To. Death." Me replied.
" Of what?" I asked.
" Oh, trust me, you really don't want to know," Myself said.
" I do. I will.", I said.
" Spiders, dragons, and dark.", Me replied.
" Okay enough."
I opened the door.
" Good Grief," Myself said.
" Oh", Me said.
Out of the door came sunshine, the smell of sweet roses and ...a gecko with a briefcase marked,
' Writer'. He handed it to me and went back to lying in the sun.
Monday, January 13, 2014
500 Words a Day Challenge
Jeff Goins, founder of Tribe Writers and a writer that I have followed for several years, has issued a challenge to all writers to hit 500 words a day in January.
I decided to accept the challenge. I haven't done badly in upholding my end of it.
It just seems that Life gets in the way. I am not someone who can or will get up at 4am just to get my words in. We are retired. Which may mean just tired. I sleep until I wake up and then start my day. It usually ends about 10pm. All this means is that I have to find the time somewhere in the day to do it.
Aside from finding the time to do this the other problem is my mind.
It is a squirrel in a cage. It bounces from one side of the cage to the other, runs up the wall and looks at all the shiny ideas that come by. It cannot settle on any one thing.
My thoughts run through the cage and the mind cannot catch them. It tries. There are so many pretty ideas. Which one can I tame and write about. Maybe the stars that shine between the limbs of the tree, or maybe why the crows play in my driveway puddle or possibly the things I love.
Sometimes heavy thoughts come by for a fly through...when does life begin, when does it end, and what am I going to do with mine.
Most of writing is just words strung together. Words. No beginning, no middle and no end, just a quitting.
How do you manage to hitch the ideas to the words or the words to the ideas and make sense?
Well, there is no magic, no one size fits all, but I can tell you that the words you put together the better you get at it. We may not all be Robert B. Parker or James Michener, but we can each put our stories on paper and let people read and learn what and who we are.
I do love the idea of writing. Of perhaps becoming the next big thing in writing. The one thing I know that makes me a writer. I write.
I hope you enjoy these words and others that are here.
Come back again and visit.
I decided to accept the challenge. I haven't done badly in upholding my end of it.
It just seems that Life gets in the way. I am not someone who can or will get up at 4am just to get my words in. We are retired. Which may mean just tired. I sleep until I wake up and then start my day. It usually ends about 10pm. All this means is that I have to find the time somewhere in the day to do it.
Aside from finding the time to do this the other problem is my mind.
It is a squirrel in a cage. It bounces from one side of the cage to the other, runs up the wall and looks at all the shiny ideas that come by. It cannot settle on any one thing.
My thoughts run through the cage and the mind cannot catch them. It tries. There are so many pretty ideas. Which one can I tame and write about. Maybe the stars that shine between the limbs of the tree, or maybe why the crows play in my driveway puddle or possibly the things I love.
Sometimes heavy thoughts come by for a fly through...when does life begin, when does it end, and what am I going to do with mine.
Most of writing is just words strung together. Words. No beginning, no middle and no end, just a quitting.
How do you manage to hitch the ideas to the words or the words to the ideas and make sense?
Well, there is no magic, no one size fits all, but I can tell you that the words you put together the better you get at it. We may not all be Robert B. Parker or James Michener, but we can each put our stories on paper and let people read and learn what and who we are.
I do love the idea of writing. Of perhaps becoming the next big thing in writing. The one thing I know that makes me a writer. I write.
I hope you enjoy these words and others that are here.
Come back again and visit.
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