Consider this....
One of these days...that irritating kid of yours isn't going to be around to irritate you. That man that loves you, but occasionally ignores you...won't be here to half-listen to what you're complaining about.
A friend of mine lost her husband recently, less than a year since she lost her oldest son...when I say, "lost" I mean, they died.
This past week, I stood staring, unbelieving at the headstone of the youngest of my friend's sons. I closed my eyes as tears stung my eyes. My friend has lost two sons and now a husband in the last few years. I tried to imagine the pain she must feel, but I can't. When I asked her if she was angry at God, she said, "How can I be? He took what was already His."
I'm not going to lie, I'd probably be shaking a fist toward the sky and cursing...a lot! But my friend, she isn't and I guess I'm not a good enough Christian to understand her "Job-like" attitude. But then again, when I stop to consider it...I've never really suffered at all. I've had it pretty easy. My life has been picture perfect if there ever was such a thing.
I've stopped to consider why........
There isn't an answer. Why do some people have it so hard and other so easy? I don't know. I guess I never will.
In all things I will praise my God, in sparing me the immense pain that my sweet friend is going through even tonight and in the blessings that He has showered on me...a wretched, undeserving sinner that fails Him on a daily basis...
Saturday, October 27, 2012
Monday, October 15, 2012
Yup, it blows!
With my trusty Corona pruners in hand, I headed out doors this evening to do a little work in the gardens. Turns out the pruners weren't needed. There was less to prune and more to just, "pull" and pull I did. I pulled weeds, dead flower heads and I'm pretty sure, a hamstring. Why is it that our bodies have to get old and fall apart?
Makes me so mad and sad and frustrated.
I look around and realize that everything gets old. I've decided that everything that gets old also gets wider. Take the dogs for example, they are about three times wider than when I brought them home in January. Then there is my favorite blue Atlas cedar, it's quadrupled in height and girth.
This brings me to another interesting point, I'm tired of struggling with getting wider. So I've decided to embrace my wideness...
Maybe "embrace" isn't accurate. I think it's more like I'm just tired of fighting...that's another irritating thing that blows about getting old...you get tired easier and quicker...and stay tired longer.
I'm not discouraged or disgruntled about getting older and wider, I'm just......................................
what were we talking about?
Makes me so mad and sad and frustrated.
I look around and realize that everything gets old. I've decided that everything that gets old also gets wider. Take the dogs for example, they are about three times wider than when I brought them home in January. Then there is my favorite blue Atlas cedar, it's quadrupled in height and girth.
This brings me to another interesting point, I'm tired of struggling with getting wider. So I've decided to embrace my wideness...
Maybe "embrace" isn't accurate. I think it's more like I'm just tired of fighting...that's another irritating thing that blows about getting old...you get tired easier and quicker...and stay tired longer.
I'm not discouraged or disgruntled about getting older and wider, I'm just......................................
what were we talking about?
Sunday, October 7, 2012
Mean Old Trooper Lady...
Call me a, "weenie" but I despise the cold weather. My old arthritic fingers move slower, my body tends to shrivel in on itself and I resemble the hunchback of Notre Dame as I shuffle my frozen-toed feet from one warm spot to another, trying to escape the hideousness of winter. It kinda makes me sad as I reminisce frigid episodes of the cold, callused person I use to be...
When working as a road trooper during the wintertime, I remember not being as merciful or gracious as I had been in the fall or even the spring. Often, when the weather was unconducive to being outside for long, I would (and sometimes still do), find myself having less patience for ignorance or non-compliance to the law.
Take for example a frosty wintertime interaction which took place on the snow-covered shoulder of Interstate 35 a few years back. A petite little lady in black high heels, dressed in beautiful designer clothes and reeking of high-dollar perfume had the audacity to ask me if she could roll the window up because she was "cold" as the freezing rain and sleet slapped at my face and slid down my neck. This, while I stood and waited outside her car door as she searched everywhere for her insurance card. She was the one who had violated the state law by choosing to drive twenty (20) miles over the posted speed limit sign.
"No," I growled, "You can't, as a matter of fact, why don't you join me here on the shoulder for a moment and let's talk about your driving," I hissed. She handed me her expired insurance verification form with delicately manicured fingers that shook as she stared open-mouthed and wide-eyed at my request.
"But it's cold out there," she stammered. I glared at her beneath the rim of my "Smokey Bear" brown hat, my lips in a straight, nearly-blue, tight line. "Yes, ma'am, it most certainly is," I replied.
I waited, growing even more impatient and aggravated as I watched her dig around in her back seat for her long, fully-lined coat and slip her tiny arms inside. She made a production of putting on her black leather gloves on her chilly little fingers.
"Let's go, ma'am," I said as she twisted in her seat to look over her left shoulder waiting for traffic to clear before she dared open her car door. As if I hadn't been in danger when I exited my car or stood in the freezing rain, "visiting" with her for several long, miserable minutes.
"If you are too afraid to get out on that side, crawl over and exit the passenger door," I said, growing angrier by the second while she obviously stalled inside her warm car. The wind whipped at my face as a semi passed us and the force of it tried to take my hat off. The gust ripped at my hat wrenching a clump of my hair where the leather and buckle rested against the back of my head. It caused my anger to flash red hot as I reset my hat on my head and watched this woman, who was about my age, slowly get out of her car to meet me on the shoulder.
Without saying a word, I held a single finger up and left her standing on the shoulder for a moment and retrieved my citation book. When I returned, I did something that I usually don't do. I stood, right there on the shoulder of the interstate, with her beside me and wrote her a big fat ticket while both of us got splattered with sleeting rain that stung like tiny wasp stingers. The original citation that I turned into the court clerk was tattered and wrinkly from wetness, but it was legible.
I bring up the story in hopes of making a point...and here it is...IF, you choose to drive like a maniac when the weather is bad, you MAY have to endure said weather WHILE you receive a citation. So, consider not breaking the law ANYTIME, but most importantly when it's cold, wet and absolutely miserable out. Food for thought.
When working as a road trooper during the wintertime, I remember not being as merciful or gracious as I had been in the fall or even the spring. Often, when the weather was unconducive to being outside for long, I would (and sometimes still do), find myself having less patience for ignorance or non-compliance to the law.
Take for example a frosty wintertime interaction which took place on the snow-covered shoulder of Interstate 35 a few years back. A petite little lady in black high heels, dressed in beautiful designer clothes and reeking of high-dollar perfume had the audacity to ask me if she could roll the window up because she was "cold" as the freezing rain and sleet slapped at my face and slid down my neck. This, while I stood and waited outside her car door as she searched everywhere for her insurance card. She was the one who had violated the state law by choosing to drive twenty (20) miles over the posted speed limit sign.
"No," I growled, "You can't, as a matter of fact, why don't you join me here on the shoulder for a moment and let's talk about your driving," I hissed. She handed me her expired insurance verification form with delicately manicured fingers that shook as she stared open-mouthed and wide-eyed at my request.
"But it's cold out there," she stammered. I glared at her beneath the rim of my "Smokey Bear" brown hat, my lips in a straight, nearly-blue, tight line. "Yes, ma'am, it most certainly is," I replied.
I waited, growing even more impatient and aggravated as I watched her dig around in her back seat for her long, fully-lined coat and slip her tiny arms inside. She made a production of putting on her black leather gloves on her chilly little fingers.
"Let's go, ma'am," I said as she twisted in her seat to look over her left shoulder waiting for traffic to clear before she dared open her car door. As if I hadn't been in danger when I exited my car or stood in the freezing rain, "visiting" with her for several long, miserable minutes.
"If you are too afraid to get out on that side, crawl over and exit the passenger door," I said, growing angrier by the second while she obviously stalled inside her warm car. The wind whipped at my face as a semi passed us and the force of it tried to take my hat off. The gust ripped at my hat wrenching a clump of my hair where the leather and buckle rested against the back of my head. It caused my anger to flash red hot as I reset my hat on my head and watched this woman, who was about my age, slowly get out of her car to meet me on the shoulder.
Without saying a word, I held a single finger up and left her standing on the shoulder for a moment and retrieved my citation book. When I returned, I did something that I usually don't do. I stood, right there on the shoulder of the interstate, with her beside me and wrote her a big fat ticket while both of us got splattered with sleeting rain that stung like tiny wasp stingers. The original citation that I turned into the court clerk was tattered and wrinkly from wetness, but it was legible.
I bring up the story in hopes of making a point...and here it is...IF, you choose to drive like a maniac when the weather is bad, you MAY have to endure said weather WHILE you receive a citation. So, consider not breaking the law ANYTIME, but most importantly when it's cold, wet and absolutely miserable out. Food for thought.
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