What I have to say today...some may find offensive or controversial.  I am merely voicing truths about my own simplistic views as a child and recalling, as accurately as possible moments from my past.   All I offer is an honest look at a past moment in time as it is recorded in my memory and an honest thought about prejudice and hatred as I see it.

Prejudice

I remember what a scary thing it was for me starting to school in the first grade.  My family had recently moved from our country home where I had been  surrounded by relatives galore.  Our home was in a community where my mother had grown up and lived all her life with grandparents, aunts and uncles across the road from us.  Second, third and fourth cousins lived nearby and I was never quite clear on which people in our little church family were actually kin or just friends of the family.  It was like living engulfed in a great big security blanket.  Everyone knew me or my mother and daddy or my grandparents or someone in my family.  All I have to say even now  if I return for a visit--or most likely a funeral these days--is that I am Eva Nell's daughter and they "know" me.

However, in August of 1967 we moved one county to the north just weeks before I was to begin first grade.  In our little country school, there had been no kindergarten program--only Head Start.  My memories of Head Start are:  

1) I got to ride the school bus with my big sister.  The bus driver was one of those mystery people that might, or might not be kin who went to church with us.  His first name was Army and he let me sit behind him and operate the lever that opened and closed the door.  

2) The lady who taught it was a cousin.  I called her by her first name instead of Mrs. Perdue.

3) I already knew my alphabet and how to read simple sentences thanks to my big sister, who is now in fact, a school teacher.  She was extremely bossy and began teaching me everything as soon as she began to learn it.  

4) We spent a lot of time playing with a "Pretend Store" where I often got to run the cash register and take money because I could count so well.

5) My favorite part of Head Start was when, during the bus ride home in the afternoon, we stopped at the store.  This was owned by another distant cousin and if I had any money,  I got to buy a pack of candy cigarettes or a coke--which was not usually a Coca Cola--but a Grape Nehi.

So with all that in mind, here I was starting first grade in a city that has not just one school, filled with familiar faces--for the whole community--but about 6 or 7 elementary schools filled with strangers.  It wasn't as big as Birmingham, but it was a much larger world than where I had come from.  My first surprise was finding two black girls and a Jewish girl in my class.  

Both of the black girls were fairly aggressive towards all the other kids and most everyone was a little afraid of them.  Being raised with several boy cousins who found out first hand that making fun of my red hair, freckles or short stature earned a quick, hard kick in the shins (or worse) had given me confidence in defending myself.  So I quickly earned the respect of Brenda and Markeetha when I made the boys in the classroom pay in like kind.  Then  they deemed themselves my protectors as well. Any boy who messed with me--had to deal with the  two of them.   I won't say that we became fast friends, but I think we developed a mutual respect for one another.  

The Jewish girl was really fascinating to me.  I'd never seen a real Jewish person.  Her dark complexion and hair were something I coveted.  I hated my red hair and freckles.  I didn't really understand what the big deal was when one of the other kids explained to me one day at lunch, "She's Jewish!"  like they were saying "She's got leprosy!"  I think I remember just staring and trying to determine what it was about her that made her be Jewish.  To me, it was a thing to be envied.  I had been going to church almost from the hour of my birth and I was no dummy.  I knew that Jesus was a Jew.  How cool to be a Jew like Jesus!  I thought it must be wonderful. Sadly, I don't even remember her name.  She moved away during or at the end of the school year and I don't remember every hearing about her again.

I know now that ignorance and prejudice have caused many misplaced ideas and hatreds through-out time.  They continue today.  But, as a very naive, simplistic 6-year old, those thoughts had no home in my mind.   I did not understand them then and I can't find the logic in them now.

Often, I think about how in learning about God's love and forgiveness, a child can accept that whole truth and believe that it applies to all people.  So why do adults have so much difficulty with it?  Why do prejudices and hatreds still exist among different races, religions, cultures? Just my thought of the day.

And He called a little child to Himself and put him in the midst of them,

    ³And said, Truly I say to you, unless you repent (change, turn about) and become like little children [trusting, lowly, loving, forgiving], you can never enter the kingdom of heaven [at all].

    ⁴Whoever will humble himself therefore and become like this little child [trusting, lowly, loving, forgiving] is greatest in the kingdom of heaven.

   ⁵And whoever receives and accepts and welcomes one little child like this for My sake and in My name receives and accepts and welcomes Me.

    ⁶But whoever causes one of these little ones who believe in and ^[a]acknowledge and cleave to Me to stumble and sin [that is, who entices him or hinders him in right conduct or thought], it would be better (^[b]more expedient and profitable or advantageous) for him to have a great millstone fastened around his neck and to be sunk in the depth of the sea.

    ⁷Woe to the world for such temptations to sin and influences to do wrong! It is necessary that temptations come, but woe to the person on whose account or by whom the temptation comes!   Matthew 18: 2-7 AMPLIFIED BIBLE

Looking at My Privileged Past...


Sometimes, it does take a 2x4 whacking me "upside the head" to get my attention.  But occasionally I can get the point in more subtle ways.  God has used several different sources this morning to remind me that, in spite of my imperfect past history--I am blessed--have been blessed in so many ways more than most.  


I'm currently reading a book by one of my new favorite authors, who just so happens to be a Southerner and from my own great home state of Alabama.  Though he arrived on this red clay soil only months before, and grew up less than a hundred miles northeast of where I was born, our life histories are worlds apart.  


Never do I remember going to bed hungry.  There may have been meals that stretched a dollar as tight as a rubber band, but I never knew it.  I may have gotten cold on winter nights, but I could always jump out of bed in my favorite "Tomato Soup Red" flannel pajamas and stand in front of the wall heater.  Then just when I began to feel like a bowl of hot soup, I'd run and leap back into bed under the warmth and security of one of grandmother's heavy quilts.  Later, when we moved into "town" all I had to do was stand over the central heating vent and let the warm air blow up my flannel gown like a big balloon.  And when my feet were warm...I'd run as quick as the wind and jump into my bed and snuggle under the covers.  (I may not have mentioned this before...but when I was young...I ran all the time.  Maybe that's a post for another day.)


There was always food and warmth and security in my little world.  Imperfections...sure.  But I remember fun times playing with my sisters and cousins.  Visiting grandparents, aunts and uncles always meant lots of food and lots of fun.  I always had clothes to wear and shoes for my feet, even when I would have preferred to go without shoes.  We had plenty of toys and most importantly, BOOKS.  Fortunately, my sisters enjoyed reading as well...so lots of books.  My mother still has most of our childhood books at her house today unless we've carried them home with us.  I devoured books like a fat kid eats cake.  And, we always had the resources to feed my hunger.  


Although, I do remember lots of spankings and yelling and learning to deal with short tempers, I knew that I was loved.  I may have hated that I never had the dog or cat that I wanted...but I was allowed the occasional gold fish from G.C. Murphy's.  Birthdays were always a big production and mother always asked what sort of cake we wanted for our special day.  She has even continued this tradition with all of the in-laws and grandchildren.  


We were raised in church and learned from an early age that all our blessings came from God and to be thankful for each and every one.  You might be too sick to go to school--which was very rare--but you were never too sick to go to church unless you were throwing up.  My Christian upbringing is perhaps my most valuable possession from my past.  I am grateful to my parents for giving that to my sisters and myself.  


The purpose of this post?  In recent months, I've found myself looking for excuses for my failures and lost dreams.  As I mentioned in the last post, it's easiest to point the finger away from yourself when looking for a place to lay the blame.  I've been convicted to search inside myself for answers...not just to continue to wallow in self-pity and remorse...but to try to discover how to rise above my past mistakes and failures and move forward.  So, in retrospect, my life has been blessed beyond measure.  It just takes a little bit of perspective to see that sometimes.  

Truth in Writing

This is an experimental post.  

Last weekend I made a statement to some friends that I don't think I have ever spoken aloud.  

"I am not disciplined enough to be a writer."   

Don't misunderstand.  I have spoken these words inside my head many, many times.  It is the fuel that fires the self-doubt and excuses that help explain a stagnant position.  I also was challenged by these same friends to stop using the excuse of  past influences and--I"m paraphrasing--"woman-up" to life's challenges.  (I can't say man-up...women are so much stronger in many ways than men.  That's another post.)  While this wasn't exactly what they said, that's the beauty of having such close friends...it was understood from our conversation.  A gentle nudge off my pity party stool and onto the solid ground of logic and reality.  Did I mention how much I love and appreciate my friends?  This has all provided some much-needed mental aerobics for my brain this week.

So, here I am attempting a post with no self-editing.  No re-reading.  No second-guessing.  No checking for bad grammar and poor punctuation.  Except that after two phone calls, a barking dog and a singing husband...I did have to take a break to let the noise subside and my brain gain some clarity again.  But here goes...

Years ago, when I decided to "get serious" about writing (for the 25th time) I suscribed to Writers' Digest, bought a few books and an updated copy of Writers' Market.  In one chapter, an author challenged me--because he knew that a challenge was what I needed to motivate me--to write SOMEthing everyday.  Because how can you call yourself a writer, if you don't, you know--Write?  I took this challenge to heart, got out one of my spiral bound notebooks and some good writing pens and proceeded to put something on paper everyday. 

Until one day...I stopped.  I don't remember why.  Life became too hectic.  The excuses gained more weight than the dreams.  A bout of depression overtook me.  The reasons do not matter now.  In the years between then and now, I've attempted to scale that mound of obstacles over and over again.  I always give up or give out or just become too apathetic to care anymore.  We all have our inner demons that never give up the fight to bring us down...Constantly tearing down our fragile dreams that always seem to be teetering like a tower of wooden building blocks. 

However, I still love the feeling of putting whatever is in my mind down on paper--just to see where it will take me.  Sometimes, I feel like a dog chasing its tail.  But other times, after pages and pages, I look back and see that I've treated myself to an amazing and wonderful journey.  Just like when I'm reading a book.  The problem is that I've always doubted that anyone else would enjoy the trip as much as I did.  But, the joy of just losing yourself to those moments of imagination and free-thinking...It makes me understand how someone like Mozart was almost crazy with the music that must have filled his head.  Although, I don't have masterpieces of words to share with the world, I do sometimes feel that my brain is swirling with thoughts and ideas like a swarm of flies around a garbage dump.  And the buzzing is just too annoying to ignore.

So this was my experiment today.  I just wanted to sit in front of the computer, place my fingers on the keyboard and let the flies go wild.  This is just one blog post, so I've tried to keep it brief.  The truth is I MAY be too undisciplined to ever be a published author...but as long as I can still put words on paper--or on a computer screen--I AM writing.  So, technically I can call myself a writer if only for a few moments out of this day.  And the flies are still buzzing and will continue to annoy me until I sit down and do something about them the next time. 

 

Okay...as I have always done, I started this year out "On fire" and then got nervous about being a failure and ran from this blog like it was on fire.  I really don't know what I expect--or even--want from this experience.  But, here I am again.  I've left my emotional security blanket behind and I'm struggling not to look back as I press on once more...




The Voice of Truth
"Oh, What I would do to have...the kind of strength it takes to stand before a giant
With just a sling and a stone. 
Surrounded by the sound of a thousand warriors
Shaking in their armor...wishing they'd have had the strength to stand.
But the giant's calling out my name and he laughs at me...Reminding me of all the times 
I've tried before and failed. 
The giant keeps on telling me time and time again, 
'Boy you'll never win!  You'll never win!'
But the voice of truth tells me a different story
And the voice of truth says 'Do not be afraid!'
And the voice of truth says 'This is for my glory'
Out of all the voices calling out to me
I will choose and listen and believe The Voice of Truth."


Thanks to Casting Crowns for the words of this song that are so moving and have meant so much to me.  I still remember the first time I put the CD in my car stereo and heard the words to this song.  It was at a moment in my life when things seemed hopeless and I had no where to turn for help...but to my Comforter and Savior.  These words brought me to tears and broke my heart for the doubts and fears that I had let creep into my life.  


My God is the creator of the universe!  Nothing is too big for HIM!  No matter the obstacles, the pain, the disappointments, the failures, the problems...HE is bigger!  No matter how alone or lost or how far down I have fallen...HE can and will reach down to me and lift me back up.  


I remember a night when I was home alone and feeling like the weight of the world was on my shoulders.  I had no one to turn to and no hope.  The dog forced me out of the house into the chilly night air where I suddenly began to sob uncontrollably.  I'm too much of a control freak to allow that sort of emotional display to go on for long...so I drew a deep breath and tried to gain some control of my pathetic self-pity.  As I raised my head up, breathed in the refreshing chill breeze and wiped the tears from my face I gazed up at the night sky.  It was clear and bright--filled with stars.  A softer wind caressed my face and in my heart I heard a voice, "I made all of these and yet in all the universe--you are important to me.  I know the number of hairs on your head and I created You."  


Now, don't think I'm crazy.  Those words may not even be the exact words that I heard.  The point is God reached down and reminded me of something that I knew in my heart...that was forgotten.  His Spirit gave me a peace and a comfort that I had not allowed myself to feel for a long time.  In my control-freak efforts to handle all the problems in my life, I had become overwhelmed, discouraged and depressed.  With one small gentle breeze and a view into eternity, I was reminded of my place in this world and that my Father was the creator of it all...and that HE loved me enough to send His Son to allow me to spend eternity with Him.  


When all the noise of this world threatens to overwhelm and overtake me...I will choose to listen to the Voice of Truth.


^4-6My dear children, you come from God and belong to God. You have already won a big victory over those false teachers, for the Spirit in you is far stronger than anything in the world. These people belong to the Christ-denying world. They talk the world's language and the world eats it up. But we come from God and belong to God. Anyone who knows God understands us and listens. The person who has nothing to do with God will, of course, not listen to us. This is another test for telling the Spirit of Truth from the spirit of deception.            1 John 4:4-6    The Message

My hope is that when you feel the weight of the world pressing you down...You will look up to The One who offers us our only Real Hope...The One who is The Voice Of Truth.

Wow!  Here I am back again so soon!  Well what do you know about that?  ;)


Okay, if my goal is to be honest here...a confession.  


Hello, my name is Pam...and I am a perfectionist.  Well, maybe a semi-reformed perfectionist.  What does that mean?  If one is the sort of person who Can Not devote 100% of your attention to a friend who is telling you about the wonderful news that their son just landed his dream job, got engaged to his one true love and won the lottery, because there is a picture on the wall behind her that is hanging crooked and you just have to go and straighten it right away--then you, too may be a perfectionist.  If you Can force yourself to look away from the crooked picture and listen attentively to her and respond as expected, but as soon as the moment presents itself you have to run over and straighten that picture--you may be a semi-reformed perfectionist.


How did I get from full-blown perfectionist to semi-reformed perfectionist?  Well, this is just a blog and not a self-help book, so I will try to be as brief as possible. 
1)   I married someone who is the total opposite of a perfectionist.
2)  After years of nagging and griping and near domestic violence situations, God gave me a mirror...and I used it.


Sounds simple enough.  Far from it.  Amazingly enough, the reflection I saw was in my own words.  In one of those "Storm" moments of my life I began communicating with God through written prayers each morning.  Well, if you must know...they were written on a computer screen.  But they were written words, which is my best means of communication.  It started out as a way to remember all the prayer requests that were in my life at the time.  Seeing them written kept them in my mind and on my heart each day.  From there--as I often do--I found myself drifting off into psalms of praise followed by periods of whining and moments of introspection and confession.  


After several weeks of these daily journal devotions, I began to look back over what I had written.  The image was crystal clear.  Here was a person who was totally self-absorbed, self-centered and selfish.  My pleas for others were cloaked in motives for achieving my own desires.  I was appalled, ashamed, convicted.  My prayers began to change into "Mold me, make me into your image".  I began to search for my own ulterior motives in everything I did or said. 


At first, it was a struggle to make the things that I said or did Not be selfishly motivated.  But, after a time I found that it came much more naturally.  It's funny that when I stopped focusing on my own needs and desires that I didn't seem to have as many.  Perfection does not matter so much  after all, because I am the only one who is disturbed by that crooked picture.


Remember that I did say I am a Semi-Reformed perfectionist?  That means it is a never-ending struggle.


 " ^22-24Don't fool yourself into thinking that you are a listener when you are anything but, letting the Word go in one ear and out the other. Act on what you hear! Those who hear and don't act are like those who glance in the mirror, walk away, and two minutes later have no idea who they are, what they look like.

 ²⁵But whoever catches a glimpse of the revealed counsel of God—the free life!—even out of the corner of his eye, and sticks with it, is no distracted scatterbrain but a man or woman of action. That person will find delight and affirmation in the action.

 ^26-27Anyone who sets himself up as "religious" by talking a good game is self-deceived. This kind of religion is hot air and only hot air. Real religion, the kind that passes muster before God the Father, is this: Reach out to the homeless and loveless in their plight, and guard against corruption from the godless world. James 1:22-25, The Message


Ouch!  The truth is often painful.    It's very easy to walk away from that mirror and forget who I saw there. I am a work-in-progress.

It's been a dreary weekend with gray skies, drizzle and fog and the weather forecast for the week is more of the same, followed by a return of winter cold.  How depressing is that?  I love blue skies, warm breezes and sunshine!  However, I refuse to let the weather control my spirit...so "onward and upward!"  Out of this depression we march!

Anticipation


Perhaps you aren't quite as ancient as I am...but maybe you remember a song by Carly Simon called "Anticipation".  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PDJ_Mz8ftqI


"We can never know about the days to comeBut we think about them anywayAnd I wonder if I'm really with you nowOr just chasing after some finer day....Anticipation, AnticipationIs making me late
Is keeping me waiting
And tomorrow we might not be together
I'm no prophet, I don't know natures way
So I'll try to see into your eyes right now
And stay right here, 'cause these are the good old days." 

Does your life ever feel like this?  

Remember when we were children and we couldn't wait to "grow up"?  The promise of adventure and excitement that must be waiting for us when we get old enough to drive, to date, to go places and do things.  First, there will be high school, then college and leaving home to explore the world outside the confines of our parents' rules and strictures.  Then comes job, marriage, families of our own, buying a house and creating our own little life in our corner of the world.  Remember how that all seemed so far away and wonderful?  

That's because we didn't know about the alarm clock that goes off at 5:00 am. The endless influx of bills that never seem to stop. The responsibility of providing insurance for health, home, car and life for your family.  The costs of maintaining and operating a home and cars.  The stress of creating a balance in your life that allows time for your home and family, their activities and commitments, your church family and responsibilites, your parents and extended family, the family pets and how about feeding and clothing your family and maybe a few hours of sleep each day?

That's when we began to dream of the day that our children "grow up".  When they will be old enough to drive themselves to all the places they go.  When they begin to accept responsibilities of their own and relieve some of ours.  That seems like something far away and distant.  We are almost afraid to admit that we might look forward to those days.

Then "Poof!"  It happens.  We wake up one day and realize...we spent so much of our life waiting for the next phase to arrive..."Anticipating" what was yet to come...that tomorrow is finally here. It seems that we have wished half our life away.   Now, what do we "Anticipate"?  

The next question is the scariest one of all..."Why are we still waiting?"  

No...if I am as honest about this as I promised myself I would be..."Why am I still waiting?"  

There's nothing to be gained by dreaming about the past and lamenting days gone by...imagining a different reality and reciting "What ifs".  The real tragedy in this scenario is the stagnant continuation in a sea of "Anticipation".  Like a record needle that is stuck and plays the same track over and over again. "Anticipation, Anticipation is making me late... Is keeping me waiting...".

I need to pull myself out of the muck and mire of "Anticipation" and start this year headed down the road to something that has been waiting for me.  Maybe it was there all this time.  Life got too busy and with blinders on, I missed it.  Ran right by it.  Or maybe, God was preparing me to be ready for it when the time was right.  

I don't know.  I just know that I need to Open the eyes of my Heart and make certain that I don't miss it completely.

"He has made everything beautiful in its time. He has also set eternity in the human heart; yet^[a] no one can fathom what God has done from beginning to end. ¹² I know that there is nothing better for people than to be happy and to do good while they live. ¹³That each of them may eat and drink, and find satisfaction in all their toil—this is the gift of God. "
Ecclesiastes 3:11-13 NIV