A WOMAN'S VIEW ~ Lenore Buth

As leaves start falling ...

     Fall is in the air, even here in northern California. Mornings come with a chill, even though a few hours later everyone peels off layers. I, for one, am not ready for long pants and sleeves, for jackets and real shoes.

    No matter. Soon it will be October, and tomorrow we'll be hanging Christmas wreaths.

    Isn't that just like life? Days and months gallop by while we're not looking. Then we notice ... the toddler is a high school freshman. That letter we never got around to writing? Too late now.

    Sorry if I sound like a nag, but I'm nagging myself. You see, I'm one of those "busy" people, and I love it. Who wants to sit around wondering what to do with oneself? But once in awhile I realize with fresh clarity how easy it is to miss what matters most. 

    So here's the word for today, a gentle reminder for us all. Let's pay attention to the day we're living and revel in it. Let's look around at the people in our lives and ponder what they mean to us. Let's open our eyes and really see.

    No matter who we are, our lives consist of the sum total of those small moments. Each one counts. Sometimes we're captivated by the rich and famous in the media, but they really don't affect any of our lives. Come to think of it, that's a relief. Now we don't have to invest so much energy in trying to be "memorable." We already are.

    Let's savor the joy ... while it's here.

    Lenore

    What do you think? Your comments welcomed!

Ever said, "This would be perfect if?" I have. ...

    The rose. Did God ever make a more perfect flower? I've loved them ever since I was a child walking along country roadsides in Minnesota and stopping to inhale the wild pink roses that grew so freely.

    (Are they still allowed to grow there? Or have they been sprayed out of existence because they were somebody's weed? I do not know the answer.)

    So it's logical that from the beginning of our marriage we've had rosebushes. We're centered on a few for now and my husband tends them with loving care. Every now and then he comes in with an armload of gorgeous roses, which are growing in wooden half-barrels on our patio. (Yes, it works just fine.) Many named varieties have come and gone, for one reason or another. This one is a Grandiflora named "Gemini," which we both love. It's  beautiful, healthy and reliable. Perfect form, strong stems, shiny leaves. Pleasing fragrance and lovely in all seasons. Long-lasting in a vase.

This would be the perfect rose if ... if  it just didn't come equipped with those pesky thorns! Long, spiky thorns that easily pierce through skin. Short, fine thorns you don't even notice, but they embed themselves in finger tips.

    Ah, but this Gemini probably is our favorite rose of all the roses we've grown.  We've decided its beauty makes up for the nuisance factor. Isn't that a perfect analogy for life?

    Long ago I came across a quote that stopped me in my tracks. It still does. Maybe you, too, will find yourself mulling this over for awhile. Sorry, I don't know who said it, but the calligraphy was set up just this way.

We can complain because rose bushes have thorns, or

Rejoice

because thorn bushes have roses.  

 

    Whatever may be going on in our lives, here's to focusing on our "roses" and overlooking the "thorns."

    Lenore

    Your comments welcomed!

How about lighting up someone's life?

    I don't know about you, but some of the mood from the commemorations of 9/11 still echo with me. Newscasters talked about the new memorial to be built, probably before next year's anniversary. I actually think they should leave it as it is. The vast emptiness of Ground Zero  fittingly commemorates what happened that day: loss. Loss of so many, many lives. Loss of our naive assumption that within the shores of the U.S.A., somehow we were guaranteed safety. That false security can't be recaptured, any more than those who died so tragically can rise from the dead.

    Emptiness is what overwhelms us in the face of loss ... and that doesn't go away. Nobody ever "gets over it" when a loved one dies. When that individual's physical presence is gone, something precious is gone from our lives. In the beginning, aching grief deafens us with its roar. Eventually it may settle into a sort of background noise, but it remains with us. 

    Really, that's appropriate. Our remembering and missing those individuals demonstrates the  lasting memorial in our hearts. When we remember, we celebrate their life and how they enriched  our own. 

   I probably think of my mom and dad more often now than I did when they were alive. Before, we were separated by miles, but they were there. As the years go on, more and more I appreciate who they were. I realize how much of who I am is because of who they were. I wish I could tell them that. ...

    Today I attended the 90th birthday celebration of a friend. She's a writer, too, and still writing, still having her poetry published. About one hundred friends and relatives came from far and near to celebrate this smiling, gracious woman of deep faith. I thought how wonderful it was that she was alive to hear and be blessed by our words of love and praise. 

    For not one of us knows whether we'll make it through the day ... any day. Neither can we predict how long our spouses or our children will live. Even if we live alone there's someone we would miss if they were gone, someone who makes us smile and go on in a happier mood.

    Are we telling them so? Do they know they matter to us?

    When we think it, we need to say it. Believe me, I know the truth of those words. Several times I've postponed doing just that. To this day I regret that I didn't simply say the words. While I was waiting for the "right time" and the "right words," friends and family members died. I know now I didn't need eloquence or perfect timing. Those dear ones would have loved to hear my awkward stammering, because--and this is the point--they were alive to hear it. 

    Right now I can think of a couple of folks like that who would be blessed by my words or by a note from me. How about you? The good news is that so long as we--and they--keep breathing, it's not too late.

    We may not have another chance. Tomorrow may never come. ...

    Here's to saying it now!

    Lenore  

Your comments welcomed!

Living in the aftermath of 9/11

    Today is the anniversary of 9/11, that unbelievable day in our Nation's history. On this day  television newscasts and talk shows replay the images and sounds of our national anguish. We're drawn to them, as we were on September 11, 2001, and through the sorrowful days that followed.

    What good does it do to remember? After all, no one has the power to rewrite one second of that day. But I for one, can't help feeling as if had dodged a bullet. 

    That's a bit over-dramatic, of course. But only a few weeks earlier a friend and I sat on the top floor of one of those Twin Towers, in the glass-walled Observation Tower. It was my first time in Manhattan. Our choral group (Bravo! Vancouver) had traveled from Washington state across the country to give a couple of concerts. New York City was our second stop.

    The first was Washington, D.C., where we sang for a large conference. Toward sunset we sat on the Capitol steps, in the balmy breezes of early evening, poised to watch the Fourth of July fireworks. No barriers. No fenced-off areas. If there were armed guards they were so unobtrusive we never noticed. There we were, thousands of us, prowling the grounds of the U.S. Capitol Building. Adults of all ages and economic levels, infants and children, and teens. Our complexions came in every hue, with accents to match. We mingled peaceably, smiling. By the time the serious fireworks were underway the predicted rains had begun. In minutes we were drenched, but we stayed, laughing, loving every minute of what we had viewed so often on TV.

    Next day we were off to New York, where we were to give another performance. My friend had been to New York many times because her son worked in New York. Nevertheless, during our free time she insisted we go to the Twin Towers, because "everyone needs to go up on top and just look out at least once."

   There we sat, knees pressed against the glass walls of the Observation floor at the very top of one of the Towers. A couple of smiling security guards quietly observed us. I walked around the roomy space, looking out in awe at the beauty of land and sea and sky. That impressed me far more than all the gleaming skyscrapers that crowded New York City's skyline. I flew home brimming over with thanks that I had the opportunity to be part of that trip.

    Who could have guessed we were nearing the end of life as we knew it? For days, weeks, months after 9/11, we Americans were watchful, fearful, as if waiting for "next time" to drop. Yet today is the seventh anniversary and nothing has. Think about that.

    How have we come safely through these past seven years? We may credit the Administration, or the learn-as-you-go Department of Homeland Security and all that came with it. We may reel off a long list of agencies and personnel and give credit where it's due. Yet every expert in every field tells us the best efforts by the best people remain insufficient. No agency, no amount of armed guards, can guarantee the safety of this Nation ... nor of us as individuals.

    Experts remain confounded. For me, there's only one explanation. It is "'Not by might, not by power, but by my Spirit,"says the LORD of hosts."    (Zechariah 4:6)

    We could not be in better hands. Let's breathe a sigh of thanks.

    Here's to remembering what it means that we're Americans!

    Lenore

    Your comments welcomed!

 

Saturday: Chores Day

    When our girls were growing up, Saturday was chores day, catch-up day. Oh, the groans! Oh, the complaining! Funny thing is, now these same daughters look back on those Saturday mornings as something good, even kinda fun. Wish I could have known that back then. Maybe I wouldn't have felt so much like the wicked witch of the North.

   Let's just say my husband and I liked the idea of the family team better than our children did. Ever been there? I kept thinking it should be easier and reading "How to" articles in search of the magic method. Never found it.   

   At our house what seemed to work best was me drawing up a list of jobs. Then the girls drew straws or guessed a number, or chose a number from a jar full of numbered slips. The winner got first dibs, then then the second chose, etc. In order to avoid a mutiny, each got to choose one chore, then we started over. More groans when someone got one of the least-favorite jobs, like cleaning the bathroom--and sometimes some trading went on. Then we'd put on the music (loud) from a Broadway show or a favorite movie, tunes with an "up" tempo. That quickly changed the mood. Soon our resident quartet would be singing, humming, and jiving to the beat--and so would their mom.

   It always helped to hold out a "carrot," the prospect of doing something fun afterward. So the sooner we wound up the work, the sooner we were out of there, and what we did changed over the years. Sometimes we'd fix a picnic lunch and go to the park or hit the Dairy Queen for some exotic creation. Sometimes we'd zero in on places where they could get rid of the allowances they were itching to spend. Often we'd head for the Place of Enchantment: our local public library. We'd emerge an hour or so later, each of carrying a stack of books to last us a week or so. Of course, our family included five females, so we  m-i-g-h-t go shopping.

    Like every parent, we often thought it would be easier--and more peaceful--just to do everything myself. Obviously, that was true. So why bother? My husband and I thought of it as preparation for life. We knew that one day our darlings would fly away on their own. Knowing how to cook and clean and do the laundry would come in handy. Beyond that, no job is fun at all times. Nevertheless, they'd need to stick with it and do good work or lose their jobs. We viewed our overall goal as getting them ready to live on their own ... our lifetime gift to them. So we kept at it, believing, and praying for patience. 

    If that's where you are right now, hang in there. Just don't expect to hear a "thank you" for a few years. But you will. Oh, and by the way, eventually you will have a capable family team, and won't that be a treat?

    Here's to discovering the fun in working together!

    Lenore

    Your comments welcomed.