This puts everything in perspective...
I bought a bird feeder. I hung it on my back porch and filled it with seed. Within a week we had hundreds of birds taking advantage of the continuous flow of free and easily accessible food.
But then the birds started building nests in the boards of the patio, above the table, and next to the barbecue.
Then came the crap. It was everywhere: on the patio tile, the chairs, the table...everywhere.
Then some of the birds turned mean:
They would dive bomb me and try to peck me even though I had fed them out of my own pocket.
And others birds were boisterous and loud: They sat on the feeder and squawked and screamed at all hours of the day and night and demanded that I fill it when it got low on food.
After a while, I couldn't even sit on my own back porch anymore. I took down the bird feeder and in three days the birds were gone.
I cleaned up their mess and took down the many nests they had built all over the patio. Soon, the back yard was like it used to be...quiet, serene and no one demanding their rights to a free meal.
Now lets see...our government gives out free food, subsidized housing, free medical care, free education and allows anyone born here to be an automatic citizen.
Then the illegal's came by the tens of thousands. Suddenly our taxes went up to pay for free services; small apartments are housing 5 families: you have to wait 6 hours to be seen by an emergency room doctor; your child's 2nd grade class is behind other schools because over half the class doesn't speak English.
Corn Flakes now come in a bilingual box; I have to press "one" to hear my bank talk to me in English, and people waving flags other than "Old Glory" are squawking and screaming in the streets, demanding more rights and free liberties.
Maybe it's time for the government to take down the bird feeder.
Saturday, December 12, 2009
Sunday, December 6, 2009
It's Great to be a Mom Author unknown
It's Great to be a Mom
Author unknown
(A conversation between friends... ) We are sitting at lunch when my friend casually mentions that she and her husband are thinking of "starting a family". "We're taking a survey," she says, half-joking. "Do you think I should have a baby?" "It will change your life," I say, carefully keeping my tone neutral. "I know," she says, "no more sleeping in on weekends, no more spontaneous vacations...." But that is not what I meant at all. I look at my friend, trying to decide what to tell her. I want her to know what she will never learn in childbirth classes. I want to tell her that the physical wounds of child bearing will heal, but that becoming a mother will leave her with an emotional wound so raw that she will forever be vulnerable. I consider warning her that she will never again read a newspaper without asking "What if that had been MY child?" That every plane crash, every house fire will haunt her. That when she sees pictures of starving children, she will wonder if anything could be worse than watching your child die. I look at her carefully manicured nails and stylish suit and think that no matter how sophisticated she is, becoming a mother will reduce her to the primitive level of a bear protecting her cub. That an urgent call of "Mom!" will cause her to drop a soufflé or her best crystal without a moment's hesitation. I feel I should warn her that no matter how many years she has invested in her career, she will be professionally derailed by motherhood. She might arrange for childcare, but one day she will be going into an important business meeting and she will think of her baby's sweet smell. She will have to use every ounce of her discipline to keep from running home, just to make sure her baby is all right.
I want my friend to know that everyday decisions will no longer be routine. That a five-year-old boy's desire to go to the men's room rather than the women's at McDonald's will become a major dilemma. That right there, in the midst of clattering trays and screaming children, issues of independence and gender identity will be weighed against the prospect that a child molester may be lurking in that restroom. However decisive she may be at the office, she will second-guess herself constantly as a mother.
Looking at my attractive friend, I want to assure her that eventually she will shed the pounds of pregnancy, but she will never feel the same about herself. That her life, now so important, will be of less value to her once she has a child. That she would give it up in a moment to save her offspring, but will also begin to hope for more years - not to accomplish her own dreams, but to watch her child accomplish theirs.
I want her to know that a cesarean scar or shiny stretch marks will become badges of honor. My friend's relationship with her husband will change, but not in the way she thinks. I wish she could understand how much more you can love a man who is careful to powder the baby or who never hesitates to play with his child. I think she should know that she will fall in love with him again for reasons she would now find very unromantic.
I wish my friend could sense the bond she will feel with women throughout history who have tried to stop war, prejudice and drunk driving. I hope she will understand why I can think rationally about most issues, but become temporarily insane when I discuss the threat of nuclear war to my children's future. I want to describe to my friend the exhilaration of seeing your child learn to ride a bike.
I want to capture for her the belly laugh of a baby who is touching the soft fur of a dog or a cat for the first time. I want her to taste the joy that is so real, it actually hurts. My friend's quizzical look makes me realize that tears have formed in my eyes. "You'll never regret it," I finally say. Then I reach across the table, squeeze my friend's hand and offer a silent prayer for her, and for me, and for all of the mere mortal women who stumble their way into this most wonderful of callings. The blessed gift of God and that of being a Mother.
Author unknown
(A conversation between friends... ) We are sitting at lunch when my friend casually mentions that she and her husband are thinking of "starting a family". "We're taking a survey," she says, half-joking. "Do you think I should have a baby?" "It will change your life," I say, carefully keeping my tone neutral. "I know," she says, "no more sleeping in on weekends, no more spontaneous vacations...." But that is not what I meant at all. I look at my friend, trying to decide what to tell her. I want her to know what she will never learn in childbirth classes. I want to tell her that the physical wounds of child bearing will heal, but that becoming a mother will leave her with an emotional wound so raw that she will forever be vulnerable. I consider warning her that she will never again read a newspaper without asking "What if that had been MY child?" That every plane crash, every house fire will haunt her. That when she sees pictures of starving children, she will wonder if anything could be worse than watching your child die. I look at her carefully manicured nails and stylish suit and think that no matter how sophisticated she is, becoming a mother will reduce her to the primitive level of a bear protecting her cub. That an urgent call of "Mom!" will cause her to drop a soufflé or her best crystal without a moment's hesitation. I feel I should warn her that no matter how many years she has invested in her career, she will be professionally derailed by motherhood. She might arrange for childcare, but one day she will be going into an important business meeting and she will think of her baby's sweet smell. She will have to use every ounce of her discipline to keep from running home, just to make sure her baby is all right.
I want my friend to know that everyday decisions will no longer be routine. That a five-year-old boy's desire to go to the men's room rather than the women's at McDonald's will become a major dilemma. That right there, in the midst of clattering trays and screaming children, issues of independence and gender identity will be weighed against the prospect that a child molester may be lurking in that restroom. However decisive she may be at the office, she will second-guess herself constantly as a mother.
Looking at my attractive friend, I want to assure her that eventually she will shed the pounds of pregnancy, but she will never feel the same about herself. That her life, now so important, will be of less value to her once she has a child. That she would give it up in a moment to save her offspring, but will also begin to hope for more years - not to accomplish her own dreams, but to watch her child accomplish theirs.
I want her to know that a cesarean scar or shiny stretch marks will become badges of honor. My friend's relationship with her husband will change, but not in the way she thinks. I wish she could understand how much more you can love a man who is careful to powder the baby or who never hesitates to play with his child. I think she should know that she will fall in love with him again for reasons she would now find very unromantic.
I wish my friend could sense the bond she will feel with women throughout history who have tried to stop war, prejudice and drunk driving. I hope she will understand why I can think rationally about most issues, but become temporarily insane when I discuss the threat of nuclear war to my children's future. I want to describe to my friend the exhilaration of seeing your child learn to ride a bike.
I want to capture for her the belly laugh of a baby who is touching the soft fur of a dog or a cat for the first time. I want her to taste the joy that is so real, it actually hurts. My friend's quizzical look makes me realize that tears have formed in my eyes. "You'll never regret it," I finally say. Then I reach across the table, squeeze my friend's hand and offer a silent prayer for her, and for me, and for all of the mere mortal women who stumble their way into this most wonderful of callings. The blessed gift of God and that of being a Mother.
Friday, November 13, 2009
z
A couple random pictures. The first one is Dave checking out the road on our land in Indianola. Hi Dave.
Norah has been taking her shirt off lately in her crib, which is why I should put her only in onesies. Norah got her shirt mostly off and then got stuck. Me being the good mother took a picture before rescuing her.
And her hair get pretty wild after we take the elastics out.
So for the last week my son and I have been taking naps together. He's been done with naps since he turned three, but he'd occasionally fall asleep in the middle of the day. Now we lay down together on my bed and he doesn't put up a fight. It makes for a happier boy in the evening.
I like to call this "Dump Truck Norah". Sorry it is sideways. This was taken a few months ago on my regular camera. This could be her Miss America talent portion when she is older.
Norah has been taking her shirt off lately in her crib, which is why I should put her only in onesies. Norah got her shirt mostly off and then got stuck. Me being the good mother took a picture before rescuing her.
And her hair get pretty wild after we take the elastics out.
So for the last week my son and I have been taking naps together. He's been done with naps since he turned three, but he'd occasionally fall asleep in the middle of the day. Now we lay down together on my bed and he doesn't put up a fight. It makes for a happier boy in the evening.
I like to call this "Dump Truck Norah". Sorry it is sideways. This was taken a few months ago on my regular camera. This could be her Miss America talent portion when she is older.
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
: : : : : : : : : :- - - - - - ::::::::::::: -------
The Charlie Schulz Philosophy
(This is marvelous!! Scroll thru slowly and read carefully to receive and enjoy full effect)
The following is the philosophy of Charles Schulz, the creator of the 'Peanuts' comic strip.
You don't have to actually answer the questions. Just ponder on them.
Just read the e-mail straight through, and you'll get the point.
1. Name the five wealthiest people in the world.
2. Name the last five Heisman trophy winners.
3. Name the last five winners of the Miss America pageant.
4 Name ten people who have won the Nobel or Pulitzer Prize.
5. Name the last half dozen Academy Award winners for best actor and actress.
6. Name the last decade's worth of World Series wi nners.
How did you do?
The point is, none of us remember the headliners of yesterday.
These are no second-rate achievers.
They are the best in their fields.
But the applause dies..
Awards tarnish..
Achievements are forgotten.
Accolades and certificates are buried with their owners.
Here's another quiz. See how you do on this one:
1. List a few teachers who aided your journey through school.
2. Name three friends who have helped you through a difficult time.
3. Name five people who have taught you something worthwhile.
4. Think of a few people who have made you feel appreciated and special.
5. Think of five people you enjoy spending time with.
Easier?
The lesson:
The people who make a difference in your life are not the ones with the
most credentials, the most money...or the most awards.
They simply are the ones who care the most
Pass this on to those people who have either made a difference in your life,
or whom you keep close in your heart, like I did.
'Don't worry about the world coming to an end today. It’s already tomorrow in Australia!'
''Be Yourself. Everyone Else Is Taken!"
(This is marvelous!! Scroll thru slowly and read carefully to receive and enjoy full effect)
The following is the philosophy of Charles Schulz, the creator of the 'Peanuts' comic strip.
You don't have to actually answer the questions. Just ponder on them.
Just read the e-mail straight through, and you'll get the point.
1. Name the five wealthiest people in the world.
2. Name the last five Heisman trophy winners.
3. Name the last five winners of the Miss America pageant.
4 Name ten people who have won the Nobel or Pulitzer Prize.
5. Name the last half dozen Academy Award winners for best actor and actress.
6. Name the last decade's worth of World Series wi nners.
How did you do?
The point is, none of us remember the headliners of yesterday.
These are no second-rate achievers.
They are the best in their fields.
But the applause dies..
Awards tarnish..
Achievements are forgotten.
Accolades and certificates are buried with their owners.
Here's another quiz. See how you do on this one:
1. List a few teachers who aided your journey through school.
2. Name three friends who have helped you through a difficult time.
3. Name five people who have taught you something worthwhile.
4. Think of a few people who have made you feel appreciated and special.
5. Think of five people you enjoy spending time with.
Easier?
The lesson:
The people who make a difference in your life are not the ones with the
most credentials, the most money...or the most awards.
They simply are the ones who care the most
Pass this on to those people who have either made a difference in your life,
or whom you keep close in your heart, like I did.
'Don't worry about the world coming to an end today. It’s already tomorrow in Australia!'
''Be Yourself. Everyone Else Is Taken!"
Saturday, September 26, 2009
The invisible mother
A friend emailed this to me. I love it.
The invisible mother
It all began to make sense, the blank stares, the lack of response, the
way one of the kids will walk into the room while I'm on the phone and
ask to be taken to the store. Inside I'm thinking, 'Can't you see I'm
on the phone?' Obviously, not. No one can see if I'm on the phone, or
cooking, or sweeping the floor, or even standing on my head in the
corner, because no one can see me at all. I'm invisible.
The invisible Mom. Some days I am only a pair of hands, nothing more:
Can you fix this? Can you tie this? & Can you open this? Some days
I'm not a pair of hands; I'm not even a human being. I'm a clock to
ask, 'What time is it?' I'm a satellite guide to answer, 'What number
is the Disney Channel?' I'm a car to order, 'Right around 5:30,
please.'
I was certain that these were the hands that once held books and the
eyes that studied history and the mind that graduated summa cum laude -
but now they had disappeared into the peanut butter, never to be seen
again. She's going; she's going; she is gone!
One night, a group of us were having dinner, celebrating the return of a
friend from England. Janice had just gotten back from a fabulous trip,
and she was going on and on about the hotel she stayed in.
I was sitting there, looking around at the others all put together so
well. It was hard not to compare and feel sorry for myself.
I was feeling pretty pathetic, when Janice turned to me with a
beautifully wrapped package, and said, 'I brought you this.'
It was a book on the great cathedrals of Europe.
I wasn't exactly sure why she'd given it to me until I read her
inscription:
'To Charlotte, with admiration for the greatness of what you are
building when no one sees.'
In the days ahead I would read - no, devour - the book. And I would
discover what would become for me, four life-changing truths, after
which I could pattern my work:
No one can say who built the great cathedrals - we have no record of
their names.
These builders gave their whole lives for a work they would never see
finished.
They made great sacrifices and expected no credit.
The passion of their building was fueled by their faith that the eyes of
God saw everything.
A legendary story in the book told of a rich man who came to visit the
cathedral while it was being built, and he saw a workman carving a tiny
bird on the inside of a beam. He was puzzled and asked the man, 'Why
are you spending so much time carving that bird into a beam that
will be covered by the roof? No one will ever see it.' And the
workman replied, 'Because God sees.'
I closed the book, feeling the missing piece fall into place.
It was almost as if I heard God whispering to me, 'I see you, Charlotte.
I see the sacrifices you make every day, even when no one around you
does. No act of kindness you've done, no sequin you've sewn on, no
cupcake you've baked, is too small for me to notice and smile over. You
are building a great cathedral, but you can't see right now what it will
become..'
At times, my invisibility feels like an affliction. But it is not a
disease that is erasing my life.
It is the cure for the disease of my own self-centerdness. It is the
antidote to my strong, stubborn
pride.
I keep the right perspective when I see myself as a great builder. As
one of the people who show up at a job that they will never see
finished, to work on something that their name will never
be on.
The writer of the book went so far as to say that no cathedrals could
ever be built in our lifetime because there are so few people willing to
sacrifice to that degree.
When I really think about it, I don't want my son to tell the friend
he's bringing home from college for Thanksgiving, 'My Mom gets up at 4
in the morning and bakes homemade pies, and then she hand bastes a
turkey for three hours and presses all the linens for the table.' That
would mean I'd built a shrine or a monument to myself. I just want him
to want to come home. And then, if there is anything more to say to his
friend, to add, 'you're gonna love it there.'
As mothers, we are building great cathedrals. We cannot be seen if we're
doing it right.
And one day, it is very possible that the world will marvel, not only at
what we have built, but at the beauty that has been added to the world
by the sacrifices of invisible women.
Great Job, MOM!
Hope this encourages you when the going gets tough, as it sometimes
does. We never know what our finished products will turn out to be
because of our perseverance.
The invisible mother
It all began to make sense, the blank stares, the lack of response, the
way one of the kids will walk into the room while I'm on the phone and
ask to be taken to the store. Inside I'm thinking, 'Can't you see I'm
on the phone?' Obviously, not. No one can see if I'm on the phone, or
cooking, or sweeping the floor, or even standing on my head in the
corner, because no one can see me at all. I'm invisible.
The invisible Mom. Some days I am only a pair of hands, nothing more:
Can you fix this? Can you tie this? & Can you open this? Some days
I'm not a pair of hands; I'm not even a human being. I'm a clock to
ask, 'What time is it?' I'm a satellite guide to answer, 'What number
is the Disney Channel?' I'm a car to order, 'Right around 5:30,
please.'
I was certain that these were the hands that once held books and the
eyes that studied history and the mind that graduated summa cum laude -
but now they had disappeared into the peanut butter, never to be seen
again. She's going; she's going; she is gone!
One night, a group of us were having dinner, celebrating the return of a
friend from England. Janice had just gotten back from a fabulous trip,
and she was going on and on about the hotel she stayed in.
I was sitting there, looking around at the others all put together so
well. It was hard not to compare and feel sorry for myself.
I was feeling pretty pathetic, when Janice turned to me with a
beautifully wrapped package, and said, 'I brought you this.'
It was a book on the great cathedrals of Europe.
I wasn't exactly sure why she'd given it to me until I read her
inscription:
'To Charlotte, with admiration for the greatness of what you are
building when no one sees.'
In the days ahead I would read - no, devour - the book. And I would
discover what would become for me, four life-changing truths, after
which I could pattern my work:
No one can say who built the great cathedrals - we have no record of
their names.
These builders gave their whole lives for a work they would never see
finished.
They made great sacrifices and expected no credit.
The passion of their building was fueled by their faith that the eyes of
God saw everything.
A legendary story in the book told of a rich man who came to visit the
cathedral while it was being built, and he saw a workman carving a tiny
bird on the inside of a beam. He was puzzled and asked the man, 'Why
are you spending so much time carving that bird into a beam that
will be covered by the roof? No one will ever see it.' And the
workman replied, 'Because God sees.'
I closed the book, feeling the missing piece fall into place.
It was almost as if I heard God whispering to me, 'I see you, Charlotte.
I see the sacrifices you make every day, even when no one around you
does. No act of kindness you've done, no sequin you've sewn on, no
cupcake you've baked, is too small for me to notice and smile over. You
are building a great cathedral, but you can't see right now what it will
become..'
At times, my invisibility feels like an affliction. But it is not a
disease that is erasing my life.
It is the cure for the disease of my own self-centerdness. It is the
antidote to my strong, stubborn
pride.
I keep the right perspective when I see myself as a great builder. As
one of the people who show up at a job that they will never see
finished, to work on something that their name will never
be on.
The writer of the book went so far as to say that no cathedrals could
ever be built in our lifetime because there are so few people willing to
sacrifice to that degree.
When I really think about it, I don't want my son to tell the friend
he's bringing home from college for Thanksgiving, 'My Mom gets up at 4
in the morning and bakes homemade pies, and then she hand bastes a
turkey for three hours and presses all the linens for the table.' That
would mean I'd built a shrine or a monument to myself. I just want him
to want to come home. And then, if there is anything more to say to his
friend, to add, 'you're gonna love it there.'
As mothers, we are building great cathedrals. We cannot be seen if we're
doing it right.
And one day, it is very possible that the world will marvel, not only at
what we have built, but at the beauty that has been added to the world
by the sacrifices of invisible women.
Great Job, MOM!
Hope this encourages you when the going gets tough, as it sometimes
does. We never know what our finished products will turn out to be
because of our perseverance.
Monday, September 21, 2009
A friend of mine posted this as his facebook status. I am not sure who the author is. I love it.
"You cannot legislate the poor into prosperity by legislating the wealthy out of prosperity. What one person receives without working for, another person must work for without receiving. When half of the people get the idea that they do not have to work because the other half is going to take care of them... that is the beginning of the end of any nation. You cannot multiply wealth by dividing it."
Amen.
"You cannot legislate the poor into prosperity by legislating the wealthy out of prosperity. What one person receives without working for, another person must work for without receiving. When half of the people get the idea that they do not have to work because the other half is going to take care of them... that is the beginning of the end of any nation. You cannot multiply wealth by dividing it."
Amen.
Monday, August 31, 2009
Sad news
Today on facebook I read some sad news. A girl I went to high school with died during childbirth. I was not really friends with her, but I knew who she was and I liked her. It's not often that you hear of women who die while giving birth. She was not due for two more weeks, but yesterday she had some bad pain and went to the hospital. Her blood pressure was very high and they gave her some medicine to treat it, but that put the baby in peril. So they delivered the baby via emergency c-section and the baby is fine. The mom's blood pressure plummeted and the doctors and nurses were not able to save her. I have been thinking about this all day. I feel so bad for the husband. It's hard enough to adjust to having an new baby, but to also deal with the loss of your spouse.... They have a daughter and then this new baby girl. I'm especially saddened when I think of this poor baby who must still be in the hospital. Who do the aides take this baby to when she starts to cry? Her mom is not there to nurse her, to hold her, to rock her and to kiss her. I'm sure the family must be there all the time to be with the baby. I think the baby must know that the person holding her is not her mom. My thoughts and prayers are with this family at this difficult time.
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