Identifying Character Flaws

What does a cute black dress adorned with red apples have to do with character flaws? In my case, plenty.

Today, I’m taking you back to my childhood to a day when I was probably 7 or 8. Most likely I was in the second grade at that age. My birthday falls in early November and although I’m not sure if I received a really cute skirt as a gift or if my mother had purchased it for me, this newly acquired piece of apparel became the focal point of an intense argument between me and my mom. At age 68 I can still see the skirt. It was a black and white pattern and along the hem were big red apples. Small for my age, when I tried on the skirt, where it should have fallen just below my knees, this one came down to about my ankles. I was so excited to wear the new skirt and had it on, ready to go to school when mom interrupted my plan.

“Susan, you can’t wear your new skirt yet”.

“Why? I like it”

“I know you like it, but it needs to be hemmed first. It’s too long”

“No, it’s not. I want to wear it”.

This is when the fight started… fueled by the back and forth of our tongue lashings for one another. The room got heated…both of us grew more exasperated as we refused to give in until mom said “All right, go ahead–wear it if you want to, but don’t come to me complaining that the kids laughed at you.” Her decision to “let go and let me” was the weapon that sucked the air out of my stubborn-need to be right-I’m gonna do things my way balloon. Suddenly, mom made sense. I certainly didn’t want to be laughed at by my friends. . 

Sixty some years later, I can still see the skirt, my bedroom, mom’s defiant face, my own angry face, and admittedly, probably some fist clenching and feet stomping. I can hear her words “go ahead then….” Looking back on that memory is an ability–while swallowing a lot of pride–to admit that that argument was the beginning of my character flaw “a need to be right”. 

I won’t bore you–or more honestly–expose the numerous times in my 68 years that I’ve fallen into the trap of having to be right. I’m not proud of the flaw, rather I’m pleased that I have recognized it, have a window to see where it began, and have begun the work of learning how to overcome my tendency to do the wrong thing…. replace it with listening, yielding, taking inventory of my emotions in the moment….setting aside pride for humility.

It’s funny. Although I can vividly remember my cute apple skirt, the argument, I cannot recall if I actually got to wear it after that morning’s argument. Maybe the part I do have embedded in my mind is there to help teach a lesson that God wants me to learn as I work daily on my character flaws. So, this morning, in my journal, as I revisited this unfortunate argument with my mom, I listed where I was wrong…defiance, disrespect, anger, control…the “need to be right”. Then, I asked God to forgive me for my bad behavior towards my mother…after all, I realize now she wasn’t trying to “control” me…she was actually loving me enough to protect me from possible humiliation from my peers. Isn’t that what a mom is supposed to do?

Identifying character flaws can be painful. But, trust me. The habit of continuing living in them, compared to the freedom when self evaluation produces positive change, is worth a bushel of apples. Big, red ones, I might add.

Hold Outs

Welp…summer is certainly behind us for another year…in several days the calendar will boast that it’s October 1st which means “all things apple, pumpkin spice, caramel, donuts, hot autumn beverages, football games, blankets…sweatshirts, longer pants….” Most all associated with cooler temperatures that come with Fall, now front and center in my mind. 

This past week my good husband turned on the heat. Although it seems early, waking in the morning to feel the warmth in the house as I make my way to the coffee pot is very welcome. Admittedly, I am keeping my slippers by the bed, something I don’t necessarily do during the hot summer months. In fact, my slippers are usually covered up in the closet by summer’s choices of shoes! I like the changes that come with each season. I truly like “all things apple and pumpkin”…but I also like the ability to wear shorts or capris and my sandals…thus my photo. 

On Monday I woke to temperatures in the low 50s. The sky was gray with rain clouds covering our lil neck of the woods. Monday mornings you’ll find me in our church office working for a few hours at the front desk. The drive there is very short, not long enough for the heat in the car to warm up to a comfortable number. I toyed whether to cover my feet with socks and shoes…I really wanted to get a few more days with my favorite jean capris and my most recent pedicure with red toes for Fall! So, I did it. The photo is proof that I left the house sporting my summer hang out “look” on an early chillier-than-usual morning. 

I’m in good company with my sandals..several female friends at church have the same attitude regarding their feet…their choice of shoes…regardless of the weather. A couple of them make jokes about wearing sandals year round no matter rain, snow, slush, ice, or clear sunny skies.  I smile politely and let them enjoy their little quirk–I draw the line at having my feet get real cold or getting a “soaker” as we called it when we were kids, stepping into a puddle that rose up to our ankles.

Just this past weekend, my husband was left in charge of two grandchildren on a Saturday morning. While the 7 year old played inside contentedly, he had the 3 year old outside who is fascinated with the garden hose. Saturday was a mildly blustery day for late September. Rain threatened throughout the morning, the air was cold enough to require a warm jacket, certainly not your “typical let’s play in the water kinda day”….but to a grandpa and a 3 year old….let’s just say that as I drove up the driveway I was audience to our grandson holding the garden hose up to his face and mouth…jibber jabbering at the stream of COLD water pouring out on him and drenching his jacket, pants, and shoes. I questioned the wisdom of such folly only to be told “well, he’s already soaked one set of clothes….I threw everything of the kids stuff in the washer”….grandpas logic and playtime activities differ from gramma’s…but by the expressions on their faces, cold water, chilly air and soaked clothing and shoes–gramma’s common sense didn’t matter. I smiled, laughed, and went inside the house. Kids warm up. Clothes dry out (with some help) Memories last forever.

Yes, I have some summer holdouts. My sandals are one of them. It’s safe to say that most of the flowering plants are going dormant now…seed pods are forming which help to replenish the beds next year or provide a snack for our neighborhood birds and small critters. Some of the “dead” plants have been removed to the compost pile. Vegetable plants have been uprooted too. Their purpose is finished, too. In their place are remnants of what once was a vibrant green healthy plant or vine. Dead leaves have dropped to the ground and will slowly disappear into the dirt until next spring when I will “work” up the ground to get it ready for another “fresh start” in a season of new growth…and I will most likely wear a pair of older sandals while I embrace the promises of spring after enduring winter months that promise “hot beverages”…”blankets”….”jackets”…”snow boots”….”snow”….did I ever tell you how much I love snow?….till next time or the first snowfall! Hmmm….I wonder if anyone has ever tried to design a snow boot that looks like a sandal?

This jar of sourdough starter is not my actual  attempt of bringing up my own delectable concoction of water and flour that ferments and when added to other ingredients, turns out breads, pancakes, muffins, anything that spells cozy and comfort food. 

I’ve not had the best of luck in the past in the world of sourdough starter, but I am somewhat determined to give it another whirl. After all, flour is pretty inexpensive…our water is free and I have numerous jars in my pantry…plenty of counter space to let it have a cozy place of its own and pray for its magic to happen. Wanting to be able to create some tasty breads, once again I found myself searching the YouTube channel for a simple approach to this age-old practice that everyone says is easy. Well, my starter is almost 7 days old…I’m following the instructions…I’m seeing bubbles…and I’m keeping the “discard” on hand in the fridge because the gal in the video said “don’t throw that away! You can use it to make all sorts of wonderful things!” (some comments to the video said gals were even giving names to their starter–I didn’t commit to that, at least until I have “proof of life”….. Ok, I obeyed, and today I had enough discard on hand to begin wondering if it was time to search for a recipe to use some of it. Lo and behold, Google took me to a banana bread recipe. “I have those frozen,” I declared. Here, I’ll toss in a few frozen blueberries”…not enough of those to use in something other than a smoothie…who doesn’t like blueberries, right? So, as I type today’s blog, I have a loaf of banana bread baking in the oven. I’m praying it turns out yummy…(I’ll let you know next week how I fared)

Fall makes me want to make all things yummy. Pumpkin anything. Apple anything. Squash any…well, as a warm side dish with pork or turkey….I truly enjoy baking and now that cooler days are mixing in with the latter days of summer, having the oven on isn’t a hindrance to creating tried and true recipes or venturing into the world of ‘trying something new’.

When it comes to life’s adventures, I’m not as quick to try new things that require great risk. I am not a fan of roller coasters..or great heights…ladders still make my heart pound and jumping into a pool…well, those days are behind me. Last June, when we visited the southern rim of the Grand Canyon I paid close attention to my footing. I was happy to stand near an edge but NO way did I venture out onto some flat rocks where others made their way to get a different view. Um, no thank you. My view of this majestic handiwork from God was very comfortable staying away from slippery gravel and jagged rocks. I guess some would say I’m not very adventurous….maybe a bit scared or dull….whatever adjective you want to give me that doesn’t match your level of courage is okay with me. I’m content to live my version of dodging sandy soil and rocky edges experiences…

I have no idea how a new sourdough starter or life adventures tie in with one another. I guess it’s all due to my self reflection related to taking risks…big or small. Trying a new recipe isn’t the boldest or most exciting thing to pursue, but if it turns out real tasty, the payoff is worth the work! Taking a trip to the Canyon was a lifelong dream duly noted on my bucket list, checked off now and surrounded by photos and memories. 

Let’s hope that I can take a photo of the sourdough banana bread and check it off my list as “that was worth it”….”Sure is yummy”….”Glad this doesn’t need to be tossed in the garbage”….then I may actually come up with a name for my starter…any good ones to offer?

Back to School

August’s hot days and weeks are behind me now. Our air conditioning system is running less frequently as uncomfortable days from high temperatures are slowly making room for cooler mornings…another blanket on the bed at night…cozy slippers for chilly feet upon waking and crawling out of bed….it’s the third week of a new school year for most of our children–Phew!–I know of some who began their new grades in late August…at any rate, each year when kids return to school I, too, feel a “shift” in my emotions and thoughts…almost as though I will get to experience something new and exciting like a brand new school year!

Our oldest granddaughter has entered second grade. She loves school and takes each day very seriously. Unlike her gramma, she embraces math…like me she is excited to explore learning through science and social studies. Being in the gym or playground is on her top list because she loves to run, climb, and do endless cartwheels as she bounces across any surface with ease. As much as she likes school and doesn’t argue about getting up in the morning, she has admitted to her parents that second grade is “stressterating” (her own combination of stressful and frustrating)…it’s evident that everything she mastered in first grade is now being challenged with building on her early foundations of learning. All of us–parents, grandparents, aunts and uncles, are assuring her that she will do well. We believe it and she does, too, now that nighttime prayers include speaking positive affirmations over her sleepy mind before laying her head on the pillow. “You are kind….you are a good learner….”

***

When kids head back to school, I am reminded of something my mother once told me. She admitted that for the first few days all three of us kids had left for school, leaving her to an empty house, she felt lonely. I guess the chaos brought on by raising three growing noisy children…preparing endless meals including snacks, playing referee to childhood squabbles with neighbor kids….keeping track of everyone’s schedules left her with emotions of loneliness…perhaps a quiet home was too much too soon and  fed her feelings of missing us kids…now that I’ve had kids of my own…lived through their 12 years of education, I “get it”. What’s odd, though, is that our own children have been out of the house for awhile now…my own September lonely days without them are behind me, and yet, here…now…in the third week of September I have felt the return and effect of kids going back to school….I wonder why…

I truly have no idea why the experience of sending my kids back to school…and now, watching as our granddaughter walks that same path…soon to be followed by her younger brother and  few cousins less her age…evokes emotions that include surviving the heat of July and August to finding ways to occupy my time in the cooler days ushered in by September. Maybe the mere process of recognizing the “shift” is all part of a grand plan to keep me aware of each day’s opportunities for living life and fulfilling purpose…whether it’s waiting to hear a report on how second grade is going….being included in conversations about social studies or how many cartwheels were spun during recess.

Ya, August is behind us. We are living in September. Windows aren’t open as often. School doors have opened, welcoming back our precious babies who are eager to learn. Momma heartstrings are being tugged at as kids leave each morning… noisy goodbyes leave homes  quieter now until the final bell at the end of the day…

The school bus doesn’t stop at our home any more. But it doesn’t mean that I don’t long for those days that are now a thing of the past…what it does mean, though, is that with the gift of four precious grandchildren to love now, while I may not be waving goodbye as the bus pulls away, my hands are now folded in prayer for them every morning,,, that they will be protected, be loved, be kind, embrace learning…and not get too “stressterated”.  And that any melancholy feelings of my own will soon disappear into the calendar of the new school year…

“Most” of my best material for writing each week comes from things that our grandkids say…anyone who’s been around a toddler knows that every conversation is bound to include a mispronounced word that makes us chuckle…or some profound truth their developing mind is putting together…discovering something “new” every day in nature and adding vocabulary words as language comes…

We have four grandchildren and each one is very unique–rightfully so–because that’s the nature of God. He created us to be individuals…not cookie cutter people who walk around like robots or puppets being “controlled” by a master. I don’t have favorites–that’s a huge no-no in grandparenting–but it doesn’t mean that I don’t pick up on the funny little things they say…or in this case, endearing.

When our youngest lil ga Siss–as her parents lovingly nicknamed her–began talking I noticed that often she purposely would (still does) walk to one of her parents, look at me or my husband, and say in as much as an empathic voice a two year old can muster “that’s my momma”…”that’s my daddy”….It was precious to hear the first time and it still grabs at my heartstrings every time she goes through her lil spiel…usually accompanied by patting their shoulder or leg depending on being held or her desire to be “close”.

Her practice of making everyone around her know “who” these important people are in her life is priceless. From the time she was born, her parents have made sure she’s loved, protected, challenged, disciplined, and taught along each stage of development. Watching her learn and develop has been pure joy and thus, has me reflecting on the relationship between me and my Heavenly Father.

Psalm 71:5 says “For You are my hope; O Lord God, YOU are my trust AND the source of my confidence from youth”.

Like our son and daughter in law who have been entrusted with Mylah’s care…my Heavenly Father is over me…He surrounds me with good things. He loves me unconditionally. He has protected me in the past and I trust He will continue to do so for many more years. Even though it has been hard at times, He disciplined me…along with life lessons taught through people or scripture. I like to believe that He is well pleased with me, even on my worst days.

I wish–like little Siss–that I could lovingly pat my Father on the shoulder or sit on His lap while whispering “that’s my Daddy” as people around me gaze at us with love in their hearts, too…the same kind of love that swells inside me every single time Siss assures herself and onlookers exactly WHO her daddy and momma are….

No, I can’t physically “touch” God in a way that points or tells people who He is to me…but thankfully, with creative writing…with words and actions I CAN accomplish showing off my Daddy….giving Him praise for everything He has done for me, for my family, for friends. Like little Siss who is growing through the various stages of childhood that will usher her into being an awesome adult, I am being transformed from glory to glory as I gain deeper understanding and love for my Heavenly Father.

So, come with me to a family gathering. We are all standing around. Laughter fills the air…aromas of party food float through the room…God’s presence takes over every activity and conversation until it’s  quietly interrupted by a gentle whisper from someone in the room…”that’s my Daddy”. And we all look to see “Who” that precious person is….

Here we are, ready and waiting for the walk to begin.

If only I could crawl into the mind of an almost four year old…to hear and see how their growing brains are computing information…images…hearing conversations and lessons from parents, caregivers, etc. Oh to imagine the wonders I would behold were that possible. Alas, as fun as that adventure would be for me, any delight of my own discoveries relies on what my grandchildren have to say as they grow…mature…go on adventures through day trips…vacations…reading books….listening to stories.

Recently, my husband and I joined our son’s family–which consists of his beautiful wife and their two children, Jacks–age 3, almost 4–and Mylah, “Siss”, as she’s affectionately called, age 2, for the 2022 Step Out Diabetes Walk which was held at Detroit’s beautiful Belle Isle. Sunday morning greeted us with glorious blue skies adorned with puffy clouds, surrounded by full sunshine. Situated along the Detroit River not far from the Renaissance Center, we caught a cool breeze every once in a while, just enough to refresh us from the rays of the sun.

Our “walk” began at 10 am and at a pace which included our son pushing the kids in the stroller, we made the three miles in just over an hour. Cold drinks and sandwiches were ready for us to refuel and rest before our drive back home.

As we walked to our cars, lil Jack–who was holding onto his momma’s hand–looked up at her, confidently explaining to her that “we are going to have a rainbow”. I don’t remember exactly how she responded to him but again, he told her “we’re going to have a rainbow…they come out on Friday and Saturday”.  I asked him if he’d ever heard a story from the Bible that talked about rainbows. He hadn’t yet (I encouraged him to have momma or daddy read that story to him from his children’s Bible….

I chuckled at his matter of fact confidence that “we would have a rainbow”. This belief–coming from a mind that is growing faster than the speed of light in my humble opinion–reminded me of “why” we see rainbows. They appear in the eastern skies after a pretty big rainstorm, when the sun comes back from behind dark clouds and its prism of colors create an arched image of magnificent beauty…stretching from end to end…glistening high into the heavens. 

A quick internet search explains the phenomena of a rainbow: 

A rainbow only happens when the sunlight is coming from behind and is low in the sky. As the sunlight shines into a curtain of raindrops in the air in front of you, only one color from each droplet will refract at the exact angle necessary to directly reach your eye.

Greater than any scientific explanation for a rainbow is the reasoning found in scripture:

God created the rainbow as a reminder that he will never flood the whole earth again. But, the rainbow is also a symbol of God’s unbelievable love for us. He chose to rescue Noah from the flood, and he chose to rescue all of us from sin when he sent Jesus. Even when we really mess up, God’s love is still there.

I love how our grandson’s mind is thinking, reasoning, believing how things in God’s creation “operate”. Maybe he saw a rainbow on a Friday or a Saturday, and like everything else he’s experienced in his short time, he remembers it without any difficulty.

I also love that our grandchildren are learning about God from their parents who read to them….pray with them….take them to church….surround them with experiences connected to the beauty of nature.

I love that indeed, rainbows happen on Fridays and Saturdays according to Jacks, but I look forward to the days when he–and the other grandchildren–hear the story of Noah…the flood…the rainbow….God’s promise to never destroy us with water again…always displaying his love for us…not only on Fridays or Saturdays, either…but every day…every moment. 

Cool…sometimes very cold water…fills our small pool for 

hot summer days. 

Pools & Patience

Combine a hot day in mid August with a small kiddie swimming pool and a perfect spot for conversation can take place when a grandmother is willing to sit in the somewhat frigid water to “play” with a granddaughter…..a child whose love language (one of them)  is “spending time”…so, while her younger brother napped, we played in the pool recently, which in our case, is a two level blow up style, large enough for several small children who merely want to splash and get cooled off under a hot sticky day. I didn’t mind the chance to don a pair of shorts and tank top so I, too, could soak up some “end of the summer sunshine” that will soon fade to cooler temperatures.

In the midst of “gramma, wanna see something?” and “gramma, look what I can do” our granddaughter decided she’d try a new “move”...plugged her nose…went under water and spun her body around as quickly as the air in her lungs allowed…coming up with a splash, eyes closed, fingers tightly holding her nostrils shut. “Did you see that!?” I sure did…I think I counted three full turns and complimented her for such a feat in the shallow waters. She wasn’t exactly thrilled with my compliment or her “move”…”Gramma, I didn’t do very well”….”Well, honey”, I replied, “you need to be patient while you practice. You’ll do better each time”.

She wrinkled her face responding “We talked about patience in KidMin. It didn’t work for me”.  (Laughter filled my body from head to toe)

“Oh baby girl….life will give you many more opportunities to learn patience”….

“Preach the word. Be ready to do it whether it is convenient or inconvenient. Correct, confront, and encourage with patience and instruction.” 2 Timothy 4:2

Indeed, patience takes a long time. At age 7 our granddaughter believed she had failed to put this wonderful virtue into practice. I can feel her anguish. At age 68 there are days I don’t want to hear the word either….whether it’s from a sermon message or a component of a daily devotional. “Waiting” is not on my top ten list of character traits…positive ones, that is. But, in the midst of my willingness to admit this character flaw, I’m also willing to acknowledge the ability to surrender my anxious thoughts and actions to God…allow Him to control, lead and guide me….to ‘encourage (me) with patience and instruction’….especially on my hardest of days…

As our granddaughter grows, we’ll need a bigger pool. I’m pretty certain she will continue to work on her “moves”…going deeper and longer under the water as depths will permit..lungs growing with greater strength…I’ll keep encouraging her as I sit near her….watching and listening to her squeals of delight….learning life lessons from her…and hopefully pass a few of my own along to her…all under the sun on a hot summer day…cooled by a small kiddie pool and  gleaning refreshment from God’s Word. Together we will “wait” for patience to be built deeper into our spirits…eyes wide open to see the results….lungs expanding to breathe in the rewards from all our hard diligence and  practice….

Where I grew up in Saginaw, the Tittabawessee River, depending on its twists and turns winding through various counties in the lower peninsula of Michigan, was and remains a beautiful part of nature.  Hidden by trees along its riverbank, the river was south of my childhood home, well within walking distance for kids. I seldom went to the river because my mother wasn’t keen on the idea. Getting there meant treading through a swamp along Mr. Rader’s farmland….or walking through tall overgrown grasses at an abandoned airfield to the west of the swamp…or along the edge of Mr. Rader’s wheat field which he frowned upon greatly. So, I think I only went out to the river in “our neck of the woods a couple of times”. Now, my brothers and neighborhood boys? That’s a different story. Boys being boys, going to the river to “spear” or “catch” fish with poles was a summertime sport. Their goal was to see how many carp fish they could snag ….careful to handle and throw back into the murky waters created in the 60s by toxic chemicals spilled into it by Dow Chemical until clean up efforts began with the corporation joining those efforts….but’s that’s the not the focal point of today’s blog.  I want to talk more about those carp.

Not a particularly pretty looking fish, part of my childhood experiences regarding this fish was being told “they aren’t fit to eat”….”they are bottom feeders”….”they are nasty”…looking at a few sites online reveals contrary facts challenging my childhood beliefs….that some countries actually eat carp as part of their cuisine…that the meat of the fish is moist and flaky. Which leads me to a childhood memory I’ve not forgotten.

Dad and I were sitting on our front porch on a hot sticky summer evening after dinner. The sun hadn’t set yet and as we were enjoying each other’s company a couple of neighborhood boys strolled by, each with a string of those carp over their shoulders. As I watched them…said our hellos…I suddenly heard all the familiar phrases in my head that dad and mom would say about the river and its carp…dirty, nasty, not fit to eat….I looked up at my dad and asked, “do you think they’re going to actually eat those!?”  In his gentle manner that taught me so many life lessons, he merely replied, “honey, those fish may be their only meal today.” Hmm. Seems maybe dad knew more about their families’ economic situation than a seven year old…no judgment. No admonishment telling them to throw the fish in the trash. 

I don’t know why this childhood memory surfaced today. Maybe it’s because now, at age 68, living in the 2000s, news headlines are reporting global food shortages. Our local resources that help families with food and pantry items are amping up their voices to fill needs beyond their shelves’ inventory….grocery prices have climbed significantly since late spring…farm production costs have skyrocketed…more folks are planting gardens and looking for ways to provide daily meals, ourselves included although we are not heavily burdened by the current economy. We are blessed….

Back to the carp….as much as I don’t care to trust that eating a carp is good cuisine…it’s great to write that since my childhood, efforts to clean the river have paid off. Years of hard work have reduced the level of toxins…the river actually freezes in some areas…and ice fishing competitions are now part of winter activities in my home city. Other fish are filling the waters….revitalization is happening….the carp still remain for “catch and release” or maybe a meal? I’m not in any big hurry to find out, but I’m grateful the river has been reclaimed and is being restored to original beauty…something everything in Creation deserves.

This photo doesn’t say which part of the river we are looking at; you can see the banks are lined with snow and patches of ice float on the water under the sun. In the 90s, my office was located in a building that sat on the riverbank. In the spring, we actually went outside to watch and listen as the ice broke in late spring, pushing huge ice chunks along the water’s flow. The power of the river and the sounds it made was fascinating, a most welcome sight to behold. And, once in awhile, the forces of the ice actually pushed a carp or two up above the water for a moment of flight in mid air, landing back in the chilly water to continue the ride out to the Saginaw Bay.