Hugging Mrs. A.

Just a couple of quick thoughts on an application of Amanda’s talk on charity. When you read or listen to words that remind you to be kinder, more tolerant, patient, and loving, it’s easy to get caught up in the moment and vow to “walk the talk.” Putting the good intentions into practice is a little tougher, though. We’re all caught up in the business and busyness of life and often overlook the importance of the moment.

Yesterday I had a brief encounter that might not have occurred if I hadn’t been thinking of ways to more earnestly translate Amanda’s words into action. Even though my time was limited, I decided to go on a quick, short walk before work. Sometimes you just (or I just) feel like you have to “stretch it out” a bit. I figured 30 minutes was better than nothing, and that if I didn’t dilly dally once I got home, I’d make it to work on time.

That’s because I wasn’t counting on any interruptions. Although I usually pass other walkers, usually a nod or simple “good morning” will suffice. Not yesterday. An older woman whom I’d seen several times before stopped me, asked me where I lived, how long I’d lived there, what my name was, who my siblings and parents were, when I graduated from high school, and so forth. If any of you in Blogland are exercise enthusiasts, you know that I was “chomping at the bit” to get away from her and on my merry way. This little chat was cutting into my allotted 30 minutes, and I knew that if I didn’t hustle, I’d never get the minutes in. Or if I did, then I’d be late for work.

She then showed me this angry looking wound on her leg and told me about being bitten by two neighborhood dogs a month ago. The attack had resulted in stitches and some unpleasant legal stuff. Then she went on to tell me when her daughters had graduated from high school and wondered if I knew either of them.  I mentioned that one of my brothers probably knew the younger of the two daughters, and that’s when she (let’s call her Mrs. A.) said, “She died nearly four years ago.” I immediately expressed sorrow at hearing this, and that’s when Mrs. A’s eyes filled with tears as she said, “Today is her birthday. She’d be 54.”

There are moments when words are inadequate. What could I do but hug her? So there in the middle of the street (the side actually) at 7:00 a.m., a complete stranger and I shared a hug. I was thinking that she and her husband could comfort each other when she told me he had died a couple of decades ago. The other daughter lives in another area. I’m sure Mrs. A. has good friends and activities to keep her occupied, but still….

I’m so glad that I got over my restless, selfish attitude and relinquished my moments of pounding the pavement. Some things are more important that putting in the miles. Just in case some of you might be thinking that I’m Ms. Goody Two-Shoes, think again. I’m just as preoccupied with my own little world as the next person. It’s just that for once I stopped and listened and felt pretty good about it. It was easy…and I’d like to think it helped Mrs. A. a little bit. Isn’t there something you can do too?

Paul and Amanda’s Advice

There are oodles of topics I could choose from to write about today, but I’m going to narrow it down to some great instruction I received from church yesterday, some of it from my son and his sweet wife Amanda. My daughters and I came straggling in a tad late (imagine that) with three little children in tow.  Being tardy, we had to sit near the front, but that had its advantages since we could get a better look at Paul and Amanda.

 

I knew that the two of them would be speaking in Sacrament service, and I had asked Amanda about her topic a couple of days before. She said the bishop had asked her to make a few remarks about something she considered to be important advice. Immediately, I thought of the most important advice I could think of, love one another, but I refrained from saying anything. Amanda’s a smart cookie, and I knew that whatever she said would be sage advice. 

 

I wasn’t disappointed, for her talk was on charity, specifically on the phrase,  “Charity never faileth.” Defining charity as the “pure love of Christ,” Amanda then went on to give numerous examples of what that actually meant, and she also instructed her listeners on how to develop that Christ-like quality (II Peter 1: 5-7). Her remarks hit home. Just the day before, one of my daughters and I had been talking about how uncharitable gossiping about others is, and this is one of the points that Amanda made. “If you have it (charity), you’re not going to put yourself down, and you’re going to put others down either.” She also pointed out the importance of patience, temperance, and virtue.

 

Paul’s talk was also about advice to others, and while he had chosen to focus primarily on the youth, there were many lessons there for oldsters as well. He reminded his listeners of the importance of friends and of their influence on you. He also encouraged them (us) to take an active role in the church rather than be what he described as passively active, coming but not really being involved. The choices we make now, including friends and activities, can have eternal consequences.

 

As the young couple sat together on the stand at the completion of their remarks, I looked at them and felt their strength. Both of them had grown up in that very ward, and although college and missions had taken them away for a while, there they were again, home for one last Sunday.

 

As Paul said, it was a bittersweet day, a day commemorating an ending and a new beginning. Yesterday was the last Sunday this young couple will be in their “home ward” because this week they’re moving to GA and graduate school. It’s an adventure that will provide them with the opportunity to establish their own home away from family and friends and familiarity.

It’s bittersweet for me too. I watched them wheel out of the parking lot, young adults who were once babies being brought by their parents to that exact same building. I can only hope that the roar of the ocean will lure them back to SC one day.

 

 

 

 

Marie’s Snake Story

I’ve been thinking of something one of the young women said at church Sunday, and since her comments impressed me so much, a person in late midlife (how did this happen???), I thought someone else out there in Blogland might be touched as well. I’m constantly amazed at the strength and depth of the young people in our LDS ward. It could be that all teens are this way, but somehow I don’t think so. They’re pretty remarkable. But on with the story.

Last week several youth went to Youth Conference, a three-day event held at a college in NC; I think it was Western Carolina. Anyway, at the beginning of Sacrament meeting, the bishop asked three of the attendees to speak about their experiences, and although all of the speakers were fabulous (especially at such short notice), it’s Marie whom I’m thinking of today. She spoke of one event that exemplified three principles. I mean, really, I don’t know that many adults with the perception and awareness that she displayed and who could speak with such clarity and confidence.

The event: As Marie and some of the other young people were riding in a boat, they looked up, and to their surprise and fear, they spied a snake. One of the young men flung (?) it into the water and away from them.  
Lesson 1: Someone was brave enough to face the serpent and keep the others safe. Marie commented that we could all be like that when facing evil (a.k.a. Satan) by being courageous and casting him aside.
Lesson 2: No one saw the snake until the boat was right beneath it. Marie reminded us that Satan is stealthy and sly, ever vigilant for the right moment to strike. Hence, we must always be watchful and alert to his wiles.
Lesson 3: Just when I was thinking of what great principles Marie extracted from that one incident, she hit us with the best one of all. None of the young people knew whether the snake was poisonous or not. However, they didn’t want to take any chances so they (or one of them) hurled it away from them. Isn’t that profound? Sometimes you can look evil right in the face and not recognize it.

I guess the point of all this is to say that Satan is alive and well on planet Earth, but we might not recognize him right away. All around us are wolves in sheep’s clothing, people who appear to be “so good,” but they could lead us astray by telling us just what we want and need to hear. We, like the youth of our ward, need to be ever on the lookout the tempter’s disguises and deceptions so that we too can hurl him aside and keep on going down the river, poison-free.

Habla Usted Espanol?

Here’s the rest of the story, as Paul Harvey would say…the end of the earlier blog. This post has to do with a separate, yet very related, part of the “foreigner” issue: language. Who can deny that language is an integral part of our lives? It’s fundamental to our understanding of the world. Without the ability to communicate effectively with others, we’d be “in the dark,” confused, and somewhat powerless.

 

In the United States, there are thousands and thousands of people who do not speak English, and we’re doing our dead-level best to help them. Not to help them learn English necessarily, but rather to communicate with them in their own native tongue. As an example, every Sunday we have several Hispanic visitors in our church, and I AM GLAD to see them. At the same time, an interpreter always sits with them and translates every word of what the speakers and teachers say. It’s a good thing, but a bit distracting. I’ve been thinking for weeks that there must be an answer, a better way of doing things.

 

Last week I read a great column by Kathleen Parker, a fabulous editorialist. I don’t have the article with me today, but the gist of it is that we’re really not helping Spanish speaking people succeed in our country when we’re giving them all the information they need in their own language. If you want to read instructions and/or directions, I can see how reading them in Spanish is best. If you want to be understood by a doctor or medical personnel, yes, it’s nice to have an interpreter there. Same thing goes for church…and maybe school (to an extent).

 

However, if a person wants to become a member of congress, teach school, practice medicine, or just in general be an informed person, then he or she needs to learn the language of the land. It’s that simple. I’ve been thinking about how lost I’d be if I were living in Mexico, France, or Italy. In fact, I wouldn’t even dream of visiting a foreign land without having at least the rudiments of the language in my mind. If I were to live there, then I’d take it a step further and try to become fluent. Why? Because I’d want to read the paper, understand the man (and woman) on the street, and comprehend television and radio.

 

I would hate feeling ignorant and powerless in a strange land. I shudder to think of how scary it would be to be at someone else’s mercy because I could neither read nor understand the words being spoken around me. Anything from legal documents to college entrance exams would be “Greek” to me. I don’t know of any universities who offer entrance exams in other languages, do you?  If you’re going to go to college, then you have to speak English.

 

In my mind, it seems that not requiring others to speak English is yet another way of keeping them down, keeping others away from the bigger prizes that go with having an education, getting a decent job, casting an informed vote, and having enough self-gained information to make wise decisions. Seeing Spanish and English on signs and directions seems “nice” on the surface, but in the long run, it’s cruel.

 

Mistreating Aliens

It’s really hard to stay away from blogging when I have so many ideas to share and the whole wide world as a potential audience. Not that I have that many readers, but still…. Blogging gives one the opportunity to spout off about something she feels strongly about, ideas she’s been considering, and just plain old news updates. And you don’t have to have anyone to edit your work or give you advice or permission to post it. So here goes.

 

Lately one of the things I hear about just about every single day of my life is the fact that we have so many people in America who don’t speak English and who, in fact, are not even citizens (many of them). I usually keep my mouth shut tight because there are no easy answers to this growing “issue.” A few weeks ago DH and I traded in my trusty Camry for a Highlander (my dream car), and the man who worked with us was from India. I know because he told us so. His accent was still strong although he’s been in the states for a couple of decades. DH got a little annoyed at first and said something like, “With all of the people working here, we get stuck with a person who’s not even American.”

 “He is American, Dear,” I said sweetly.

“Well, okay, then someone who doesn’t even speak English,” he countered.

“He does speak English,” I hissed.

“Yes, but I can’t understand a word he says with that accent of his.”

“Don’t you think you have an accent and that he might have a problem understanding you? Besides, Hon, you just need to get over it because this is the way it is.”

 

The gentleman was effective, courteous, and knowledgeable, and within a very short period of time we walked out of CARMAX with everything taken care of…and I do mean everything. All I have to do now is pay for the shiny red Highlander every month.

 

Anyway, this conversation and others like it were on my mind last week when I was re-reading parts of the Old Testament, specifically some verses in Exodus. Within a short space of fifteen minutes, I came across three admonitions from God himself to the Israelites not to mistreat aliens. Actually, the version of the scriptures I was using was not the King James version; that version uses the word “strangers” instead of “aliens.” Still, the message is the same. Don’t mistreat or deal unkindly with people who are strangers or aliens, for as the Israelites were reminded, we were once aliens in Egypt…in a sense, that is. If not you, then your forefathers and foremothers.

 

So the message is, “Get over it, Folks. This country is not exclusively YOUR country. This is not to say that I don’t think aliens, strangers, and foreigners (whatever that means) should “do as the Romans do” and learn to speak English, get a job, and pay taxes because I do. That’s a subject for another day…or maybe later today depending on how things unfold.

Slightly More Elegantly

Okay, I vowed to post once per week, but I just have to share something I read in Grace (Eventually) by Anne Lamott.  It’s an observation that the author makes upon attending church one Sunday despite feeling a little yucky (my word, not hers).

Here’s Lamott’s view: “You have to be somewhere; better here, where I have heard truth spoken so often, than, say, at the DMV, or home alone, orbiting my own mind. And it’s good to be out where others can see you, so you can’t be your ghastly, spoiled self. It forces you to act slightly more elegantly, and this improves your thoughts, and thereby the world.”

We’ve all had days like that, days when we’d just as soon hang around the house in our jammies and watch television, read, and eat waffles at noon. Once in a while, I’ll give in to the urge if I’m truly under the weather or if it’s a conference weekend. Still, most of the time I take the time to dress in something that I feel is appropriate for the occasion and head out the door, and so far, I’ve never been sorry that I did. There’s just something uplifting and soothing (yep, that’s my word) to be in the midst of others who feel the way you do, to hear a few inspiring and/or instructional words, and to listen (perhaps even sing) to some beautiful music.

This past Sunday was no exception. I was reminded of the importance of serving others even if it’s in a small way. Sending notes, giving hugs, watching someone’s children, and paying compliments are all ways we can serve in our little corners of the world. I needed to hear that particular talk because sometimes it gets a little discouraging to read about the awesome generosity of Bill and Melinda Gates, Madonna, and Brad and Angelina. I recently read that Madonna supports six orphanages, supports as in keeps them going with food, electricity, water, employees, furnishings, and so forth. Who can compete with something like that? Not I. But I can bring school supplies next week for our humanitarian project.

A young man spoke about the importance of staying on course and warned that getting off course even a couple of degrees can have devastating consequences unless one alters the flight plan. Seth then reminded us of our eternal destination and the importance of making course corrections as soon as possible whenever we get off track a degree or two. The final Sacrament speaker encouraged his listeners to be prepared spiritually and financially for any and everything that life might hold in store for us.

Yes, I’ve heard all of those things before, but as Ben Franklin reportedly said, “Repetition is the mother of learning.” I’m glad I went. It forced me to act slightly more elegantly and improved my thoughts.

Wedding Weekend

My daughter Elizabeth and I went on a road trip to historic Cartersville, GA this past weekend so that she could be in her college roommate’s wedding. Beth and Jason got married on the grounds of the Sullivan House outside of Marietta on Friday, July 11, and honestly, it was one of the best (beautiful and fun) weddings and rehearsals I’ve ever attended. Yes, I loved my children’s weddings, but I was probably too emotional  to enjoy them as fully and completely as I did this one.

 

What made it so special? It’s hard to pinpoint just one thing because the music, the ambience, the special mix of people, and the scrumptious food all combined to make this a spectacular event. Everything from the tiny glittering lights to the potato puffs was perfect. And I stole an idea about making palm tree decorations from a potato, a carrot, a green pepper, and toothpicks. Very clever and so cool. And the people? At the moment I’m remembering the couple from PA and the American flag on the man’s lapel. “I always try to find a way to honor the troops,” he said.

 

As the wedding guests waited for the wedding to begin, we sat beside a huge magnolia tree listening to a gifted harpist. Although she had plenty of competition from the cicadas, birds, and road noise, the harpist managed to create a calm, peaceful ambience. It was hot, sultry even, so we sat and fanned ourselves with some fans that Beth had created for her guests.

 

As the attendants began the processional, all went according to plan except that one of the four little flower girls seemed reluctant to come down with her sisters. Beth was gorgeous in her exquisite white gown, and I’m still thinking about how pretty the pearls in her blond curly hair looked. Elizabeth was beautiful in her latte colored dress, but then I suppose I’m a bit biased. After the vows were spoken, the young couple poured sand from two separate vases into one, a change from the customary candle lighting.

 

As I waited with the other guests for the wedding party to cross the lawn to the reception, I assumed this reception would be like countless others I’ve attended: dancing, food, laughter, and words of congratulations. I was right…but I was wrong too because this was a stellar reception. Everyone there danced. Everyone. And yet very few people appeared to be drunk. Beth and Jason had carefully selected just the right music designed to get everyone on the dance floor at least once. The parents danced to John Denver’s “Annie’s Song,” and that was sweet. The father/daughter and mother/son songs were perfect as well. The DJ played “Fly me to the Moon” for me, and the four little flower girls danced with what I’d have to describe as wild abandon to that tune.  

 

Jason’s family made an indelible impression on Elizabeth and me, enough so that I could write about each of them. However, I’m going to stick to Ryan, a recent college grad who’s currently working for a cruise line in Alaska. He came home especially for his brother’s wedding, and as we talked during the weekend events, it became increasingly apparent that this was no ordinary young man. Energetic, fun-loving, and respectful, he was also a good dancer and made everyone feel a little more upbeat.

 

As we parted company with the Yohe’s, I told Carol, the mother, what a wonderful family she had and that I was glad our paths had crossed. Ryan spoke up and shared his philosophy that as long as he had to be somewhere, he was going to make the best of it and have a good time. Simple idea but a profound one too. Elizabeth and I talked about it off and on the rest of the weekend. As long as you have to go to work, try to make the best of it and have a good time. When you’re in a social setting, do the same. In fact, while here on Earth, make the most of your time here, and LIVE. And while you’re at it, try to make it more enjoyable for others too. Laugh a lot and dance too.

 

Thanks for the lesson, Ryan…and for the dance lessons too. Move up, move back, right?

 

 

 

Independence Week

I know I said that I was only going to post once per week, but I must share a few quick thoughts about some of the events and observations from last week, the week of Independence Day and a time in which DH and I had the opportunity to travel to Myrtle Beach for a few days. I LOVE walking, reading, and dining right on the edge of the continent. It’s awesome.

 

Among other things, the most important activity we engaged in was unwinding. This was the first vacation we’ve taken in quite a while  in which our calendars were relatively free. There were no mandatory tee times, scheduled shopping excursions, or timed dinner dates. We managed to sandwich those things in with the relaxing, reading, and beach walking, but they weren’t our primary activities.

 

One of the highlights was watching the variety of people who live in this great country of ours, a land choice above all other lands. From our vantage point, we saw people of many colors, shapes, and sizes. One day while watching an Asian couple delightedly walking along the surf holding hands and laughing, I remembered a Fourth of July image from years past. My husband and I had gone to the beach early in the morning to jog before the sun bathers and picnickers came along. It was around 6:30 in the morning. As we made our way along the beach, we were both startled (because it was so early) to see a Vietnamese family huddled together on some steps leading from one of the boardwalks. They were staring at the ocean, and I couldn’t help but wonder about their thoughts. This was/is their country too, and the 4^th is as much about them as it is about all of this nation’s diverse population.

 

Other fun memories are:

• Reading two books, the favorite being Grace Eventually by Anne Lamott.
• Dining out with Paul and Amanda at River City Café (love those peanuts and souvenir cups!).
• Going to a Pelicans game with Paul and Amanda and enjoying the high spirits of those around us.
• The fireworks on the 4^th. From the Sands Ocean Club where we stayed, we could see them up and down the beach…what a sparking sight.
• The variety and number of people who shared the fireworks with us.
• The music from Annie’s Attic that floated up to our room.
• Collecting shells.
• Hearing the squeals and laughter of children.
• The fireworks display after the Pelican’s game. Even the loud, beer-drinking crowd in front of us was shushed and awed by the close-up fireworks and the music in the background. I’ll always remember those moments sitting with DH, Paul, and Amanda as we watched the brilliant display and listened to “Living in America.”
• Free donuts at Dunkin Donuts after the game.
• Visiting with Elizabeth in her darling home on our way in and out of the area.
• Going to church in Myrtle Beach on Sunday and reconnecting with some fabulous folks. More on this later.

 We loved our time on the strand. We also loved arriving back at our home sweet home.

Self Handicapping

One of the reasons I enjoy teaching and learning about psychology is that it offers so much good stuff to help people live their lives more effectively and to aid in understanding self and others. Plus, it has so many neat terms and concepts, most of which you sort of already know, or are at least somewhat familiar with. Or rather, you know the idea or feeling, but you just might not have known what to call it.

 

For instance, I love the “self” words like self-efficacy, self-monitoring, self-presentation, and self-handicapping. My all time favorite is the first one because of what it implies. If you think you can, you can. If you think you can’t, then you’re right about that too. In fact, Albert Bandura, the psychologist who coined the term, felt that a feeling of high perceived self efficacy is more important than a person’s actual ability in achieving a goal or accomplishing a task. Plus, people who feel that they CAN will persist in their efforts despite obstacles, thus making it even more probable that they will succeed.

 

Always a believer in the power of one’s thoughts to make or break her (or him), I’m a believer in self-efficacy. However, at the moment, I’m also struggling with a bit of self-handicapping, a situation in which a person hampers or thwarts her success by doing things that might sabotage the odds. For instance, a star student might go out and party the night before taking the SAT. That way, if he does poorly, he has a good excuse. A person might work overtime to make extra money and then not have the energy or interest in spending time with family…the people he supposedly was working overtime for. So where am I going with this?

I think I’ve been guilty of self-handicapping over the last few months. I seriously do want to work on some writing projects and have three book ideas in my head and two manuscripts in the works. I’ve also been trying to maintain my blog, teach classes that involve discussion boards (online courses), polish some articles in hopes of publishing them SOON, review favorite and recently read books for Amazon.com (why I’m doing this, I’m not sure), maintain (sort of) a website, and then carry on a semblance of a balanced life. My job also involves a lot of reading, and we’re changing a couple of texts for the fall. Hmmm. Not that I mind that. But at the same time, it’s, well, you know, time consuming.

 

It’s fragmenting. Something’s “gotta go.” If I’m serious about the books, then why keep up the blog? Because I enjoy reading and communicating with people all over the world. It’s neat to think of Hayden in her new house and Sarah with her new baby, both of whom I knew nothing about a year ago. I can’t stop working just yet so the internet courses have to have top priority. Hmmm. Should I continue neglecting the website? Require less writing from my students? Stop reviewing books? Have I added this extra stuff to deliberately handicap my writing projects? After all, if I’m doing all these other things, then I don’t have time for manuscripts, right?

 

Oh, and one more thing, something really cuckoo. I joined a Writer’s Forum, something I enjoy but which also requires an enormous amount of time. Crazy, huh?

 

So here’s what I think the solution is. I need to prioritize, and the first think I need to do is to carry out my work responsibilities. I MUST blog, but I’m going to limit it to one post per week. I’m going to continue to read and comment on my favorite ones, but I can’t afford the luxury of reading and commenting as often as I have been. I’m going to work on the manuscripts everyday…or at least one of them, beginning with Making a Life. In fact, I think I’ll do that right now.