Easter

It is another one of those holiday times when Christians take a long breath to absorb the glory of our living on this earth and the grace and glory of God through His Son Jesus Christ.  At least it seems so to me.  It’s Easter, the season of faith, hope and renewal.

Jesus died on the cross, for us.  Jesus arose from the dead and returned to his Heavenly Father.   That, our hearts and souls know, is why He came to earth, was born and walked among people like you and me.  He came to show us the way to live, and to live forever. 

As a child in Sunday school, I first learned angels rolled away the stone barricading Jesus’ gravesite from His followers, from the concerned and curious. Through several means after this discovery by Mary Magdalene and the other Mary, including a visit from Jesus himself, it was perfectly clear Jesus was no longer imprisoned by death.  (In the Holy Bible, read Matthew, Chapter 28)

The story of Jesus is one of a lifetime of teaching by word and example.  His was a lifetime of love – lessons in service to others, forgiveness, and undying faith.  It is a story of passion, pain, renewal and joy.   I pray I live my life constantly emulating His way to the best of my ability.  He arose.  I am grateful.  I am joyful.

I wish you a Happy Easter. 

Loving Grandmother - Or Not?

She called herself a loving grandmother.  But was she?  Perhaps not.  She recalls those past years adoring them up close and distant.   Now the time has come when grandchildren she used to share real time with no longer come around; no longer check in about school events; no longer are part of her life.  Is that evidence her perception of self may have been wrong? 

I didn’t know enough to give her an answer.

The grandmother proceeded to say she moves about her home surrounded by evidence they once loved her – gifts and photos she had laughed and beamed over in their adoring presence.  She did recall the tone of one granddaughter who implied a prominently placed framed photo mortified her teenaged sensibilities. 

“Take it down,“ she had winced with a trace of a smile. 

The picture of the almost still-a-little-baby-girl standing posed in tutu and tights holding a pink ruffled umbrella stared back at her.  Today her grandmother admits she easily brushed her granddaughter’s words away with a “you’re so cute. I loved that day.”  Maybe she should have listened.  It’s down now.

Many times the little family surrounded her dining table enjoying the fun and informative conversations of active people from three generations.   Surely even more times, the grandmother murmured, she shared a delicious menu with them in their warm and happy home.  Then there were those well planned or totally spontaneous meals taken in fine and not so fine restaurants.  Yes, they used to have great times.  Not any more.  

The grandmother says she never dreamed the day would come when they wouldn’t be part of her life.   But her son – their father died.   She misses him.  She misses them and finds herself constantly wondering why she has to.

“I must not have been that loving Grandmother."

My Loving Grandfather and My Grandmother I Never Knew

    My sincere advice – she must realize  each person manages ‘change’ in different ways.   The despondent grandmother must be patient.

     What do you think?  How would you    counsel the grandmother?

Money

If you don’t have a pile of money, you must not think excessively about it.  Even if you don’t have enough money to do what you want to do.  You’ll risk being driven to despair, a despair that may not mean destruction.  I’m talking about inertia.  Yes, it may lead you to function in a sort of semi-hopeless state, i.e., limiting what you could do.  That’s not good. 

It’s extremely important to keep living forward in a positive mode.  So it is necessary to keep moving, even if by tiny steps.   Do what you can and “d_ _ _ the torpedoes ahead".    (Yes, some other notable said something like that.  Hopefully I will not get sued.)

If I had summarily acknowledged I didn’t have the money to publish I wouldn’t have my memoir, Black Star Girl, the book I wrote in tribute to the unwavering perseverance of my parents and me.  How thrilled and grateful I am to see the spine of that treasure sitting on my library shelf; to know it is in many public libraries. 

My daughter would not have had a sterling four-year experience at Cornell University if I had respected the words of a compassionate counselor who told this divorced mother of two teenagers that Cornell was too expensive for her and me.  We should rethink.  “The community college has a wonderful curriculum.”  (It does, but my child’s goal was to go to Cornell.)  Most of my best memories are because I kept going. 

Oh yes, if I had respected my financial resources vs. obligations, we certainly wouldn’t have had – for almost twelve years – the fabulous experience of my adorable bulldog, Pugslee.  When the pet store owner said the price of the 10 week old puppy was $2,500, I should have turned my back and walked away.  But I always wanted a bulldog.  (Read my February 24, 2012 post,  “Pugslee Woods Blue”.)

Well, today’s question is, “will I ever have that kitchen I’ve dreamed of for years?”   Money, money, money.

I don’t know.  I’m not as brave as I used to be.

         _          _        _          _          _          _          _          _          _

Note: my last post, “Matt Lauer”, inspired this writing.

Thank God people don’t need a $25,000,000 salary (or even a million dollars) to be happy.  I’m kind of weird though.  I shy away from buying lottery tickets because I fear unhappiness would flood my life if I won.

Matt Lauer

He’s made news these past few days. 

Seems he gave a magazine interview.  I ignored the teaser headlines.  Wasn’t interested in anything Matt Lauer might say.   His persona remains non-grata to me.

This morning a TV personality suggested folk turned against Mr. Lauer after learning of his $25,000,000 salary.  Not so with me.

Recalling Ann Curry’s emotional goodbye episode those many months ago keeps my channel changer changing away from seeing him – and NBC – if at all possible.

Hearing the TV personality scoff at viewers who might begrudge Mr. Lauer his $25,000,000 salary, I was shocked.  Why?  I’d never given any thought to his salary.   And, because she and another on the show proceeded to say something like, “He’s given years of good service. He works hard.  People shouldn’t resent those who are rewarded for working hard to earn their money.”   Another woman even went on to humbly infer it was an injustice years ago when she was paid only a million dollars annually doing practically the same job.  But she understood.  It was a different time.   

The discussion seemed to be wafting up from the deep chasm between the financially affluent and the rest of the nation.   It was like they had forgotten the real world of their audience – the millions who work hard night and day doing one job or several simply to provide shelter, food, health care, education and other critical necessities for themselves and their families.  

It was surreal. 

Well, they took my mind off Matt Lauer.