Happy New Year

            As the year winds down to its final hours, I keep thinking about what happened in my life this past year. On the one hand, not much, but on the other, there were some major changes.

            The year started out with high hopes for something we believe God is going to do, but that didn’t happen.

            What did happen is that in September, my wonderful son announced that he was moving out. I’d been expecting that at some point, so I wasn’t bothered. He told me that someone he worked with needed to move and had asked him to be his roommate. They found a nice apartment not more than a mile or so from me, so that was great.

            A few days later he comes to me and tells me that he’s got a chance to move to California. A house across the street from his girlfriend has a room for rent and his job will allow him to transfer.

            My first reaction was shock. Once I got over that, I started helping him figure out the logistics for moving from one state to another. I’ve never moved more than across town, so this was a bit like the blind leading the blind. Thankfully, it wasn’t difficult.

            Admittedly, I’m not thrilled that he moved two states away, but as I told him, “even if I could keep him here, I wouldn’t. He has to live his life.”

            I miss him, but we keep in touch through Facebook and the occasional phone call. From what he says, things are going pretty well for him and that’s all that matters to me.

            The good thing about him moving out is that I’m turning his bedroom into a sewing room. I told him before he moved that I was going to do so. Which, of course, means that if he needs to move back for any reason, he’ll probably end up sleeping on the couch.

            I’ve needed a sewing room for quite a while, so it’s nice to finally have one. It’s not my “dream sewing room,” but it’s functional. Although, so far, the only sewing I’ve done is to shorten the cuffs on a zippered hoodie for my roommate. I need a cutting table to do more. I just haven’t found what I need yet.

            Another change with him having moved out is that my menu planning has changed. I plan a month’s worth of meals every month so as to take advantage of an extra discount I receive at one store, but I quickly realized that I needed to plan smaller meals as I am truly only cooking for two people now. Not two adults and a growing boy/adult.

            The house is quieter, too. Not that my son was super noisy in the first place, but there’s an emptiness that wasn’t here before. On the one hand it’s nice, on the other, I miss his presence. I miss knowing when he’s free to talk to me.

            So, the year is ending and it’s time for the usual resolutions, if you make any. I don’t usually because I know I probably won’t keep them, but this year I did make a few. They are as follows:

1)      Be more consistent about blogging every week – after all, I started this blog, so I really should be keeping it going.

2)      Practice piano at least 5 – 6 days a week – I’ve been trying to do this, but some days it just doesn’t happen.

3)      Start studying Latin, again – I started several months ago, then put it aside.

4)      Get back to looking up words on my massive vocabulary list – I’m told I have a good vocabulary, but I think it has tons of room for improvement.

5)      Start checking the library for books on my ever growing list of books to read – If I don’t, then I shouldn’t keep a list in the first place. Not to mention that it’ll keep getting longer and longer. . .

These are resolutions I’m fairly certain I can keep as they’re all things I want to do and have a plan of

action to accomplish them. I do practice piano, most days, but I really need to be more consistent. I’ve learned that making a list of things to do each helps with this.

            If you make New Year’s resolutions, I’d love to read them in comments. If you don’t, that’s okay too. Either way, I hope that 2018 is a wonderful year for you. I pray that you have God’s wisdom and strength for whatever challenges may arise.

Happy Holidays

In place of my usual blog, I'm wishing you and your families "Happy Holidays." I hope they are days filled with joy and love for all of you.


Hugs from me to you.

Next week, I'll resume my normal blogging. Take care.

Memories

            Memories are funny things. We all remember things we wish we could forget, while forgetting things we wish we remembered. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve had someone come up to me that remembered me, so clearly, I should know who they are, but I don’t. This can be really embarrassing, although in some cases not so much.

            There was the man who came into my work one evening and remembered me from junior high. Given that at that point, I was in my early 30 years, it had really been a long time since junior high. Add in the fact that I’d only attended that junior high for 6 weeks at best, it’s easily understandable that I wouldn’t have remembered him.

            I suspect he remembered me because of a memorable incident that happened during my short time there.

            One of the most popular guys, if not the most popular guy in school had been bet somewhere in the vicinity of $100 that he wouldn’t kiss me. Back then that was a pretty good sum of money for a 9^th grader. Well, he did it. He held up a piece of paper between our faces and kissed me. Which is why I suspect the man who walked into my work that night remembered me so clearly.

            The worst one though was the guy at the gas station I used to buy gas at. I walked in to pay after pumping my gas one night only to have the clerk take one look at me and tell me that he remembered me. Unfortunately, I didn’t remember him.

            When I politely tried to tell him, “I’m sorry, but I don’t remember you,” he got upset. I mean he started yelling, “Don’t give me that!”

            Repeatedly. I just stood there like a deer in the headlights not knowing what to do. Frankly, I was uncomfortable. To make matters worse, there wasn’t another Chevron station within reasonable driving distance, so it wasn’t like I could just take my business elsewhere. If I could have, I would have. Immediately!

            I don’t remember now where he knew me from, if he told me. I was too shocked by his behavior to remember more than his reaction to my lack of memory about him.

            The other embarrassing memory lapses are when friends and family members ask, “Do you remember. . .”

            Then they’ll talk about a specific incident as if I should when I don’t. To be honest, I hate that. Especially since I’m still young enough that I shouldn’t be having memory issues of that sort.

            The other thing I hate about not having memories of incidents that others remember is knowing that there are things I’d like to remember, but can’t.

            I know I have spaces in my memories because I seem to remember a lot of the bad things that happened, but very few of the good things. I know my life hasn’t been perfect, whose is? So, why do I seem to remember only the bad things?

            I finally realized that although it’s hard to not remember as many of the good things I’m sure happened, remembering the bad things is a form of protection.

            I’ll let you get your jaw off the ground while I repeat that. “Remembering the bad things is a form of protection.”

            The old saying, “Those who forget history are doomed to repeat it” also applies to us as people. I mean think about it. If we forget the bad things that happened to us or the mistakes we made in our lives, then we’re going to repeat those things. Or worse yet, trust the wrong people.

            If you read my “Me Too” blog, then you may have some idea of what I’m talking about. If I were to forget that a boy I had a crush on raped me or that my mother’s second husband abused me, I’d be open to trusting them again. That would not be good because then it could happen all over again.

            Not to mention that if I forgot all the mistakes and stupid things I’ve ever done, I’d probably be repeating them. Actually, I know I’d be repeating them. Then I’d make a mental note to myself not to do so and hope I remembered.

            Remembering the good things is nice and I truly wish I remembered more of them, but I find that I have an appreciation for remembering the bad things and mistakes I made. They taught me more about who I can’t/shouldn’t trust as well as what not to do in the future.

            Before I end this, I’d like to add that short term memory is important too. My youngest brother had short term memory issues due to a head injury that happened to him as a teenager. It’s amazing how much we need our short term memory in everyday life. I remember him telling me that one place he’d worked at, he’d ask the manager a question, but not get an answer. I suspect he got the answer, but quickly forgot it before he could act on it. The poor kid had 13 jobs in one year. He couldn’t hold any of them because of his lack of short term memory.

            So, final take away, appreciate your memories. They’re not always pleasant, but they can enhance your life.

My Salvation Story & Why I Still Believe in God Over 45 Years Later

When I was a young girl we went to church every Sunday at a church that was about six blocks from our house. They often had social occasions in the evenings, such as ice cream socials or a pot luck in the basement. I believe we were at some sort of Sunday evening social when I started talking with an older girl. I don’t remember how it came up, but we started talking about Salvation and how you could ask Jesus to come into your heart.

She told me that believers in Christ would be taken up in the rapture. I was sitting there thinking about this when she also said that it was kind of like having a second birthday. I perked up at that idea. To me, a birthday meant a party and presents. That’s when I decided to become what is called a “Born Again Christian.” So, she prayed a sinner’s prayer with me.

I don’t remember feeling any different, but I do remember being excited to tell my mother. She was happy for me. While I never did get a second birthday party to commemorate that day, I’ve never regretted the decision I made that night.

A couple of years later, we changed churches. Mother would later say that everywhere she went, she would meet someone who went to that church. That it was like God was riding around in her hip pocket telling her that she needed to go there.

I hated it! The service was noisy, there were no hymnals, and worst of all, people prayed out loud! In other languages, no less! What was this all about? Why were services so noisy? Eventually, I realized they had something I didn’t. It was called the in filling of the Holy Spirit with evidence of speaking in tongues. (Acts ) Then I asked for prayer to receive the Holy Spirit myself. It took a while, but it happened. From then on, I didn’t mind the noise so much. I also learned that the lack of hymnals was so that God was free to move and change the music as He willed.

We attended that church for several years before it imploded.

After that church imploded, I didn’t go to church for a long time. In fact, I had quit attending several months before the implosion due to things I saw, but could do nothing about. I knew they weren’t God’s fault, so I never blamed Him.

So, there are several reasons outside of church that make me believe God is real.

First, when I was a little girl, about 20 months old, I fell head first down some cellar/basement stairs in my grandmother’s house. The floor at the bottom of those stairs was pure concrete. My mother was very pregnant with my younger brother, so she could do nothing, but watch in horror. If she tried to save me, she risked herself and her unborn child. She says that about three or four steps from the bottom, my little body turned and I safely rolled down to the bottom.

For years, going down those stairs made me uneasy. Once mother told me that story, I knew why. She also tells me that for months afterwards, I would stand at the top of the stairs shaking my finger like you do at a naughty child with a scowl on my face.

The next incident I’m aware of, occurred in my teens. I had joined Junior Achievement. In my case, this meant a two bus ride to and from the location. I was in high school, so being out one night a week on the bus was no big deal.

One night as I was waiting for the final bus home at a stop that was fairly safe as there were people around, I noticed a man in dark sunglasses. The kind with lenses that reflect you, so you can’t see the person’s eyes. I suspected he was watching me, but wasn’t sure. The stop was in front of a well-known department store, so I started looking at displays.  I walked around the corner, still looking at displays, then turned to walk back. As I did so, the man who had followed me around the corner, suddenly leaned against the wall and started whistling.

Now here’s where I made a mistake. I should have headed straight for the McDonald’s restaurant across the street and asked to borrow the phone to call my mother for a ride. Instead, I didn’t want to “panic” and went around the corner with the intent of walking to the other corner to be sure I was being followed. Along the way, I saw a cute young man with two other guys and turned my head to admire him. He turned his head too. We walked towards each other and started a conversation. After a minute or two, he had to go catch up with his friends. I started to walk back with him. He asked me about where he thought I was headed. I started to explain about the man who’d been following me, only to discover that he’d disappeared. To this day, I believe that young man was an angel sent to protect me.

There was one other incident that happened in downtown. While working at a temporary job, I’d worked on some personal files as I had time. I accidently left my disk there. I happened to be working another job close by, so on my lunch break I walked to the other office to retrieve my disk. As I was walking to the previous job, I had to stop for a light. For some reason, I thought it turned green and would have stepped out, except that I physically felt someone grab my upper arm to stop me. Had I stepped out as planned, I would have been hit by a bicyclist and a big car from the 1970’s that were running the light. I turned to thank the person next to me thinking it was him, but he looked at me funny. It wasn’t until sometime later that I realized that one of God’s angels had to have stopped me.

Last but not least is the car accident I was in back in March of 1987. I was a Domino’s pizza driver at the time. I had made a delivery at the edge of our territory, then stopped for gas. As I was leaving the station, I remember seeing a car go by with its lights on, which reminded me that I needed to turn my lights on. Especially since it was a dark, rainy night.

I got about four blocks from the store I worked at when I thought I saw a reflection of light in front of me. There was no one behind me, so I hit the brakes. The next thing I knew, there was rain coming in where my driver’s side window should have been and an ambulance about 100 yards down the road coming my way. I looked at the steering wheel and realized it was in my lap. The column had broken off. For some reason, I “shut” the car down and took the keys.

A minute or so later, an EMT got in on the passenger side and checked me out.  He told me they were going to take care of me and get me out. I told him I could slide over and started to do so. He told me to stop as they didn’t know if I’d broken my neck or back. So, I stayed.

They tried opening my door, but only ended up rocking the car like a cradle. The man with me hollered at them to stop. Then he told me that I was going to have to trust him because they were going to have to cut the door off and it was going to be noisy. I said, “Okay.”

I mean, what else could I say. They started the saw up, then the next thing I knew it was being shut off and my door was being removed. I only realized much later that I must have fainted.

It was several years later when I learned that the EMT’s and all other emergency personnel had not only expected me to be dead, but were surprised when I was alive and conscious.

My then boyfriend used to joke about God sending angels to stand between the cars to protect me. I never understood that till we had a conversation several years later in which he told me that even though I’d worn my seatbelt that night, I should not have survived. I know God was watching over me then as He does now.

Now you know why I still believe in God, despite the way some “Christians” behave.