Turning a Blind Eye

Admit it. It's so easy to do. Someone in need is right in front of you and you change directions, look the other way, duck & cover. Often, we then say a prayer of thanks that this person, this particular situation is not ours.

I am absolutely appalled at the Penn State scenario. Heartbroken for the victims and heartbroken for those who will carry the stigma, whether they were involved or not. I don't think putting Penn State grad or Penn State athlete on your resume is going to cause you anything but trouble for the coming years.

Of this whole saga, the most troubling thing to me was the protests and riots over the 84-year old, turn a blind eye, make a b'jillion dollars coach being fired. I would feel a whole lot better about our society if the riots were for the victims.

I feel certain I would properly report a child being abused or molested. I'm quite smug about helping children, animals and anyone I sense to be in need.

Yet, I drive everyday by people with those signs: "Homeless & hungry." "A veteran who needs a leg up." "Hungry kids, will work for food."

I drive by. I often don't believe the signs.

I'm questioning whether I'm any better than others who witness awfulness.

Being Liturgist

I do not know the actual statistics but I know that more people would rather observe their own funeral than stand up somewhere and speak. In the top ten list of fears, public speaking always comes out as number one.

It's not my number one fear, but it's up there. So that's why I can confess to a little nervousness about beginning my month-long stint as liturgist in my church.

I rotate with Jay, Joe, John, and Matt. They all do an awesome job and regardless of which one I follow, I have that deep fear that the congregation is going to be disappointed.

When my minister asked me to join the rotation, I (for a moment) thought he might be confusing me with someone else, then I thought he might be kidding. I have finally figured out that he is amazing with figuring out what the church needs and also helping with individual growth.

When I say, "I am not worthy." He says, "No, you're not. Do it anyway."

In less than 24 hours, I will be liturgist. I will do it this month and several others next year. I have written my prayers, read my bible passages and certainly prayed for guidance.

Hypocrisy? Sometimes. Always. I know I sin. I suspect you do too. I suspect the clergy I adore and respect (current & former) do too. I love the story about the man wagging his finger at a church-going man with "Why would I go to church? It's filled with hypocrites!" And the answer is, "Isn't that the best place for us?"


What gets me through it is this. I am not public speaking. I am doing a public service for my Lord.

(This sounds so holier than thou and I don't know how to fix it!) Please muddle through and see the bigger message: Be involved! Join a house of worship!

Belly Laughs

This is a photo from my childhood. I think I posted it years ago on another blog but it's worth posting again.

This is what childhood is supposed to be. Pink bellies, bathing suits and neighborhood fun. I wish Richie and Ronnie and Jan and Tammy, Tara and the multitudes of others in our neighborhood were in this photo. I wish I had a photo of Rick Lawrence and Tom Bradley to contribute. I wish David Hinesley was in this photo because this is probably the age I began my crush on him that lasted for decades. I wish some of the weird dudes, the cool dudes and happening girls were there but I guess that came later when personalities developed.

We're so scared now. (And rightly so.) Kids are only allowed to go so many houses down and 10-year olds have to check in with their cell phone. Responsible? Yes. But also a little sad that the absolute reckless freedom of running like crazy, climbing fences and trees with abandon and all that childhood fun may be lost to a new generation.

The world changes and you all know I embrace certain changes and buck the others like a mule.

My greatest wish for children is to have faith, have great parents and have a neighborhood like the one I grew up in.

All Muddled Up

I hope you are having a good day. In fact, I hope everything in your life is aligned with God and there is not a worry in your head.

The reality is that you probably have something niggling at you. You are worried about a spouse who drinks, a kid who lies, a child in your life who might be bullied. Or worse, the bully.

You might be worried about superficial stuff like the lines on your face or the cellulite on your thighs.

I spent a lot of years thinking I could decide what to hide and what to share when the probems of my life made me a little crazy. My minister says that there is no shame in telling the truth; the shame is in secrets. I love him but he is living a dream.

There is no shame in telling people you love and trust about the issues and pain running through your brain. Yet, when you lose friends and lose jobs and lose hope because someone is now holding your decisions against you, there is shame.

We all say, "Love me, lean on me, I won't judge you." And yet, we do.

Stupid in an Educated Brain

I went to college. Had a great time & learned some stuff. Mostly, I was exposed to cultures, ideas and beliefs I had never been exposed to earlier. I think that is what college is supposed to be.

I made some incredible friends who I hope will be my friends for the rest of my life. We played quarters, got tossed around at football games, broke some laws and many rules and survived.

At one point, I put on a cap and gown and received a degree. (Two, actually.) I am an educated person.

But, today I feel really stupid.

I do not understand why we have such division in this country. I do not know why I am supposed to side with Democrats or Republicans when I don't understand any of them. I do not understand why Congress (mostly made up of millionaires) is claiming to represent me -- a lowly worker. I don't understand why the only people who can run for office have to be wealthy or prostitute for lobbyist funds.

I do not understand why our country has sunk so low. Low standards for education, low standards for health care. I do not understand our current health care system, nor do I understand the changes proposed by either party.

I do not understand how our country has now tied its financial system to every other financial system in the world and we're failing. How do we owe this much to China? How do we have a banking system that we bail out (probably by borrowing more from China) yet it controls the world markets?

How do we have sports stars and entertainment stars bargaining for more b'jillions yet we have nations with starving and dying people trying to live on $2 a week for a family?

Outside my office, there is a large tv in the lobby. It stays on CNN. Occasionally, I look up and catch a story. For the last two weeks, we spent an absurd amount of time on the trial of Dr. Conrad Murray, aka Michael Jackson's killer.

I'm an educated person who feels really, really stupid.

Hang in there my friends

This post might seem a bit cryptic. It's a shout out... a show of support ... a loving nod to many people I know and love who are struggling with ... well, let's just say they're struggling.

To J & J, You are amazing people who have dealt with a lot of adversity. I'm sorry your parents are hurting and mostly sorry that they're hurting you.

To D & S, your mom has some tough decisions to make soon. I hope you will both help her as she has tried to help you.

To T, you are being framed and we will figure something out. Regardless of the outcome, I am glad you are my friend.

To K, I want you to be healthy and well. I want to see you smile. Truthfully, I want to see you move on. (Sorry.)
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Mostly, I am just amazed at the power of friendship and the power of prayer. Hang in there, my friends. Some struggles are more visible than others.

And Where Does the Apple Fall?

For those of you without a sense of humor or a sense of irony, I strongly advise you to come back another time. This story is not politically correct. But, it is true and it embodies the connectivity of parent and child -- even with a wicked sense of humor.

You've been warned.



The Humane Society of Indianapolis sent out a plea last weekend. It was on twitter and facebook and sent to those of us on the email list. The food pantry was bare. Like food pantries that many people rely on to feed their families, this pantry helps families keep beloved pets fed.

I knew what I could do. And I knew my parents would help. So, on Sunday morning, my dad and I are loading my trunk with pet food before services. As we walked into church, he said, "Your mom and I can't stand the thought of an animal in need." We started talking about how the commercials with lonely/lost/hungry/abused animals make us crazy. And he said, "We just turn the channel. Can't stand it." I agreed. I'm johhny fast on the remote myself.

As we walked through the parking lot that led us to worship, my dad said, "Those commercials with the starving children don't bother me nearly as much."

At that moment, I knew the apple had not fallen far from the tree.

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Note from author: I beg of you friends. My father would put his life on the line for any child, any dog, any person. Please see the humor and know that I am not showcasing him in any other way.

Abortion and the Death Penalty

Heavy subject. I know. Welcome back.

I am terribly torn about this man that was put to death on Wednesday night. I used to think that some of these people who might be wrongly convicted were still ok to be in prison because their rap sheets were so long that they had to be guilty of many things. But death? Come on! His majority of people who testified against him recanted their testimony. There was zero DNA evidence against him. But, he died by lethal injection by the courts and the government of our USA. I am also deeply troubled by the number of people we find not guilty as science, like DNA testing, catches up with reality.

Then I start listening to the politicians and their posturing. It seems the same peole who will wave the disgusting pictures of fetuses and partial birth abortions are the same people who want to bring back the firing squad.

No, I'm not picking on Republicans. I'm picking on those of us who choose not to be humanitarians.

I have never been faced with the unplanned pregnancy but I'm pretty sure I know what my choice would've been. I'm also pretty sure I would not have wanted my life, my future child's life or my fetus' life (however you choose to view it) held in the hands of a politician.

It's also pretty unlikely that I will be in the wrong place, wrong time and be accused of gunning down a policeman.

I have no way of tying a nice bow around this and wrapping it up nice and neatly. I'm not suggesting that the woman with the unwanted pregnancy should've had an abortion so her child didn't wind up a criminal. I'm not suggesting that the criminal who was executed wasn't guilty.

I'm merely suggesting that is all messy and ugly and the politicians who reduce it all to a sound bite and a campaign slogan make me choke back the bile.

Relationships and Birthdays and Lessons Trying to Be Learned

I am trying to be the person I want to become. Most days I fail miserably. I can turn into a judgemental, harpy person. Does it count that I'm trying?

Then I have a few days that string together ... like notes in a song I love. How trite is that?

Yesterday, I had birthday wishes on Facebook, my email, texts and voicemails. My Aunt Ann sang happy birthday to me and was a little p***'d off when my Uncle Harry got on the extension and interrupted her serenade. Our friends, the Englands, joined us for dinner and you know, they didn't have to do that. I talked to my Aunts -- Connie and Judy. Our cleaning lady (don't go there) left me a card and a flower. I met Abby and Big Sal for a drink and had a great time catching up.

Birthdays are great in that people acknowledge you and wish you well. If I'm living my life in the way I want to do it, I should do that with every encounter.

A big chunk of my work life is spent building (or trying to build) relationships. I am humbled and awed that the reason I enjoy my work so much is that I have such wonderful relationships with incredible friends and family. And that has helped me to build relationships with others.

Ok, this was a really sappy post. I'll get back to being snarky next time.

Is Social Media Wasting Your Time?

I had a friend post something today that we, his facebook friends, should not be offended if he decides to close his page or stay away for a while. He has decided it is a distraction and ultimately, a time waster.

I am not offended. He's a smart guy with a busy life: family, travels a lot for work, etc. I respect his choice and, as he pointed out, any true friend can reach him through a variety of other avenues.

I have another friend who gave up facebook for Lent, which I also found admirable. She was really glad to be back on Easter but she kept the vow.

Texting is the only way I communicate with my son. His choice, but I have adapted.

We took a few days off to visit a lake house that our friends own. There was never a moment unplugged. I might have gone a few hours without checking email or looking at Facebook but someone else always kept me in the loop. We shuffled whose iPad or iPhone went on the speaker next because there was always music. Someone asked a question and 5 people Googled the answer.

Yet, I never felt disconnected from the people I shared this vacation with.

I don't think it's wasting our time. I think it's enhancing it.

It's a different world out there my friends. I like it. And. I'm just trying to keep up.

Most Marketing People are Crazy

There's a common belief that marketing people -- and you can throw in sales people for good measure -- are slightly askew from the norm. We are.

We are the people who ask about the logo on your shirt and why you wear it. We want to understand your loyalties. We are the people who open EVERY SINGLE PIECE of our junk mail because we're interested in what other companies are doing.

We are the job that never stops and most of us who have chosen this type of career would have it no other way.

Let's get serious. My job is not world changing. It's not life changing. But something is always niggling in my brain ... Hmmm... wonder if I could convert that idea somehow? Is there a different way to sell that? Is there a new opportunity here?

I'm going to be out of the office for a few days and my company encourages "break away" time. My boss is the first to say, "You are covered. Enjoy!"

I love that attitude. But I also know that while I will kick back and enjoy myself for a few days, the iPad or the Blackberry is always near. No one will need me while I'm gone. My need is to keep up with what is going on.

You never know where the next idea will come from.

Sexting & Nudity & Weiner

Outside my office sits a big flatscreen tv for members in the waiting area. It is always on CNN and when I am in my office, I can glance up and follow the news and commentary.

A couple of weeks ago, it was all about Arnold, his maid-girlfriend and his out-of-wedlock child. Now I get a steady stream of Weiner and his escapades.

We are all used to the stories of politician/public figure gone bad. Illicit affairs, hidden children, wives who stand by their man (and sentence their own punishment) and wives who stand strong for their children but send the strong message, "Get the *#@% out of here!"

I don't get Weiner. I don't get his need to send pictures of his privates to multiple women. I have great sympathy for his wife, a high powered official in her own right. She's not exactly living in his shadow. And, for extra fun, turns out she's pregnant with their first child.

I am not a prude but I don't get sexting. I had a friend tell me the other day that many men she knows have taken pictures of their privates the moment they get a camera or a phone with camera abilities. What? I told her to get new friends. She told me to stop being naive.

I am horrified when some young person I know puts a bikini photo on facebook. Or any photo that looks like a whore, or drunken whore. I guess my age is showing because I have worn a bikini in my day and I have certainly knocked back a few but I think these kids are committing some kind of educational/professional suicide before their adult lives even begin.

One of the benefits of age is I can honestly say that no one will photograph me in a bikini. Those days are long gone.

Weiner didn't do anything that jillions of others do all the time. But, he is a public figure and that brings its own level of press and scrutiny. The bigger question to me is -- WHY?

Entitled

This is going to make some of you mad. But, I am mad.

Whatever happened to working for a living?

There's this whole gang/group of people out there with the singular goal of working the system. They need food stamps, they need school lunch programs, they need disability. They need help.

I met a young man today, one of 10 children, whose mother is taking the majority of his paycheck. She has addictions and is working the system.

I met another who told me her sister can't work because if she stands too long or sits too long, her joints hurt. Well, guess what? If you're over 40, you probably have some joints that hurt.

Many of us feel entitled to Social Security but honestly, that plan is on the bubble. And the truth is, we probably paid less in than we feel we are entitled to receive.

Is there an answer? I don't know. But I know for sure that I am sick and tired of helping a whole group of people who work the system.

On the other hand, I would give a kidney to someone who needs it. I'm not heartless -- just a little jaded.

Dog Rules

We have a rule in our house that the dog is not allowed on the furniture. She has free reign to roam about the house. She is house broken and reasonably trustworthy. She has a perfectly comfortable bed in the laundry room and she often goes there to get away from us.

But, she has a wild side. It's almost like she wants to let us know that she will not be controlled. "Look at all these comfy places that no one is using!"



a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbyv2vcmIw1T6WagnhYyCg5SEJPnsnCnwmV3c1ojbqkcVyyWq9d6LrFc0FzEOZ8wXBa5KQonY79BGyNM6TcLeXLLesbNc80mXQWuIDHDv_Q6p1DWImQAyq2vnheyLVazSAjGBN93ENwk4/s1600/Gab+on+furniture+005.jpg">

We have a rule about no dogs on the furniture. Gabby did not get the memo.

Exposure Equals Tolerance

I just read a horrible article about a boy being bullied because he was, or appeared to act, homosexual.

I recently had a conversation with our copper, who guards our credit union, and I asked him about gang activity in Indianapolis. He gave me a lot more information than I really wanted to know. His perspective and his experience was enlightening. So many of the gang recruits are joining because they are protecting their racial territory. You don't see as many of the black gangs killing others as you do the black versus Hispanic situation. Then throw in poverty, ignorance, drugs, absent parents ... well, don't get me started.

When I was a young girl, dancing was my life. My sport of choice. I was also involved in community theater. At Butler/Jordan College of Music, my primary instructor was Mr. Copeland. He was as flamboyant and stereotypical as any gay man could be. I loved him madly. (My Dad used to refer to him as "Mrs. Copeland" just to annoy me but truly, my Dad doesn't have a prejudiced bone in his body.)

Mr. Copeland wanted me to attend many, many classes. It made me better and I think he liked having his "pet" students around. My parents couldn't afford 7-10 classes a week so he decided on a creative solution. I would be a demonstrator. (For those of you without dance experience, that's the person that stands in front of the class and demonstrates the move or the steps that the instructor expects everyone to do.)

I did this for years! The other demonstrator was a black girl, my age. We became fast friends. Some of my happiest memories are hanging with her between classes or the many times we were in the same show. I did not even notice that she was black and I don't think she really cared that I was white. We were friends.

In my feeble mind, bigotry equals ignorance. And, I am tired of it. I know, or have friends, or have coworkers, or have relatives who:

are black,
are Hispanic,
are gay,
are rednecks,
are ignorant,
are snobs,
are crazy.

Somehow, I manage to like, love or at least tolerate them all.

Let Summer Begin!

We in the midwest have been burried in snow throughout the Winter and pounded with rain storms throughout the Spring.

Now, we are on the cusp of Summer. Bring....It....On. I know it's not officially Summer until June 23rd but this is Memorial Day Weekend -- the unofficial start of Summer. Pools open, friends open their lake cottages, patios seem like a good place to be.

Soon we will all be griping about the heat and humidity. Our gardens will need rain. But right now, we can enjoy the flowers blooming, the kids with the Summer energy that kicks in before the "I'm bored" phase and the opportunity to light up the grill.

Jump in a lake. Go visit your neighborhood pool. Get a pedicure and rock some kicky sandals. Take the family on a picnic. Attend an outdoor concert. Plant a few vegetables. Plant some flowers. Try some new recipes. Go on vacation.

It's Summer. Enjoy!

A Dog for the Rest of My Life

I am a dog lover. Right now, I am into black labs but I love all breeds. I've had some great mutts and probably will have more. Do dogs have souls? We had this great discussion in Sunday School last week but I firmly believe they do. And, I believe they have the greatest capacity to love.

I've told you this story before but it bears repeating. When I was about 5 years old, I begged and pleaded for a dog. My mother, who had some dog issues, agreed with a few caveats:

not a puppy
housetrained
not huge

With my beloved grandmother as co-conspriator, we found the perfect dog: Candy.

Candy was with us until mid way through my college days. I miss her still. No offense to my other dogs but I think she will always be my favorite.

My parents have had oodles of dogs and I have loved them all. Well, that's not true. I was not crazy about Ashley whose idea of a good time was to bite everyone in sight. I tried very hard not to touch her.

The great thing about dogs is the one you own at the time is your favorite. Best dog ever! I miss the others but I am so grateful for the one at this time in my life. My Gabs, my friend, my dogger. And, Harriet, who lets me carry her around like a baby.


We dog people are drawn to cute sayings and cute stuff about our dogs. Here's one I read a couple of years ago about why people love dogs:

Dogs are angels here on earth. They carry a white light, a spirit. That is why people feel better after they've touched a dog. The dog has a forgiving soul and always thinks we are better than we actually are. You can tell them anything, and I mean ANYTHING, and they will always love you no matter what you have just told them. So perfect and beautiful in so many different packages, God knew what he was giving us with the gift of a dog. What a great world this would be if everyone could live up to be the great person your dog thinks you are.

I will always own a dog. Or one will always own my heart.

Prayers

If you believe a certain religious sect, the Apocalypse begins tonight and those of us who consider ourselves believers will not be here tomorrow.

So, what am I doing to prepare myself for this great event? I am doing laundry, running errands and most importantly, writing prayers. I am liturgist tomorrow. I suspect my congregation of great friends and wonderful Christians will be in their normal seats in the pews.

The hardest part of being liturgist is writing the prayers. I know what I pray for and for whom. But you try to strike a balance between the generic and personal. You, at least I, try to say something that touches the soul... that makes someone think, "Yes, I pray for that too."

Whenever I remind myself that I am not worthy and I share this thought with my minister, he replies, "No, you are not. Do it anyway." What a gift!

The next time you are in a house of worship and someone says, "Let us Pray," remember that someone put some time and effort into crafting a community prayer. And, the greatest gift may be the ability to worship together.

Alone Time

I crave alone time. And God's joke on me is that I live with the most social man ever put on the planet.

Alone time allows me to breathe, to pray, to make lists and to listen to my soul. Alone time heals me.

Yesterday I took a couple of hours off work to do personal stuff. Catch up. Walk the dog, send some cards. Dan came home to pick up some stuff he had forgotten. Alone bubble busted.

There's a balance we all strive to find. Socially engaging/work engaging/private time. I spend a big chunk of my week with a smile on my face and a story to tell. It's rude, but I often come home with the silent message of, "I'm tired and I don't want to talk." How awful is that?

Doing the voyeur thing, I often wonder about retired people. How do they do it? Do they enjoy spending 24/7 with each other? In my voyeur experience, I can tell you the answer is no. One of them is always wishing the other would get out of their hair.

But, I'm on the young end of the Baby Boomer generation. One perk is I'll never know about retirement because we will be the ones who can't afford to retire. I will work until I can't work anymore. If I get really successful, I will have a room to myself and I will occasionally channel Greta Garbo,

"I want to be alone."

But just for a while ....

The Help

Have you read this? I read it a while ago and recently reread it. I can't explain it but it touches me.

I have southern roots. Lots of them sprout in Knoxville, Tennessee but I also have an adopted love for Mississippi and the family of my in-laws.

There is a graciousness that goes with the South. There are also a lot of secrets and terribly dark days of prejudice and violence.

Whenever I spend two minutes with any of my southern cousins, I immediately begin to speak with a southern accent. I can't explain it.

Can you imagine asking your "help" to use the bathroom outside? That's just a little glimpse into this book and the issues it raises.

If you haven't read this book, I highly recommend it. I read an article last week and the author said the book was rejected more than 40 times. I applaud her for rewriting and resubmitting a b'jillion times. Now, it's also been sold to Hollywood and a movie will be coming out in August. I hope the movie is as good as the book.

If you've read the book or see the movie, let me know what you think.

Addicted to Facebook

Hello, my name is Sheri and I need a 12-step program. I am addicted to Facebook.

I love it. I love you, my friends. I love seeing your children and grandchildren. I love hearing about your day. I like checking out which pages you "like" and seeing what mutual friends we have.

For my media friends, I love your weather forecasts, your updates on breaking news and the fact that you interact with us regular people.

My aunts and my cousins, well ... without Facebook, I wouldn't know your latest blog, see your latest interests, know you play silly games ... I wouldn't get to share as much of your life as I do now.

High school friends and college friends -- wow, the power to reconnect! To see you as your grown up selves and superimpose that image with the one in my memory. It's mind boggling.

Seriously, I know what's going on with my church family because they put it on Facebook.

A few months ago, I was in a meeting with a vendor and my boss. The vendor was giving me great compliments and (jokingly) said, "You need to give her a raise." My boss replied, "Whatever... every time I check she's on Facebook."

Of course, he is my friend on Facebook and the only way he would know I was on it is he is on it too.

Guilty! I open it at home. I open it at work. I float between whatever I am working on and checking the status of my friends. I wait for Faith to tell me who I should pray for and I wait for Susan's hysterical posts. I long for Kristen's newest adventures and recipes. I see the travels of my peeps and I cheer for their accomplishments.

And at least once a day, somebody, somewhere tries to tell me something new and my answer ends up to be, "I know. I saw it on Facebook."

Mom's Day

Mother's Day is bittersweet for me. I love my mother, my best friend, with all my heart. But I didn't get to birth children of my own and that is one of my true regrets in life.

Yet, God opens doors. He gave me Jennifer and Tyler -- two of my greatest blessings. He gave me their mothers, two of my best friends. He gave me goddaughters (thank you Jan!) and a bounty of children to love. My "sister" has three children and thankfully, she has commanded that they love me.

You never stop being a mother. Today I was liturgist in my church and I flubbed a portion of the responsive reading. There's nothing like looking into the congregation and seeing your mother say, "You messed it up."

Yes, I did. And thanks Mom. One of your most amazing gifts is to let me know that I mess up and you love me anyway.

I truly believe it takes a village to raise a child. This child is looking at 50, a scant few years away, and realizing the women who shaped me, scolded me, loved me and soothed me.

Here's the prayer I shared with the congregation this morning:

Gracious God,

Today we honor mothers. We thank you for the mothers who gave birth to us and step mothers who stepped up. Thank you for adoptive mothers who grew children in their hears. Thank you for foster mothers who deal with situations most of us couldn't imagine. We thank you for grandmothers who get to love and laugh and send the children home.

Lord, let us also honor aunts and godmothers and all who touch our children. Thank you for neighborhood mothers who instinctively know it takes a village.

Let us also be grateful for Mary, a young mother in a challenging situation, who gave birth to our Lord.
,
May your loving hand touch all mothers everywhere.

So, I hope you honor yourself today. If you birthed a child, participated in raising a child, smacked a child upside the head for doing something dangerous or stupid... you have added to the community of humanity for all the greater good.

And may you all have someone who can look at you with a wink and a smile and say, "You messed up." Yes Mom, we all do it once in a while.

Sunday School

With a nod and a thank you to my friend Jay Flora, I will tell you something he said in Sunday School this morning.

"I used to get up a little early to attend Sunday School, but I was really there for the worship service. Now, I get up early to go to Sunday School and I hang around for the worship service."

My apologies to Jay for the paraphrasing.
My parents dragged me, kicking and screaming, to Sunday School. Really? Don't I do enough? Don't I volunteer for every event? Don't I show up for most of the big stuff?
I went to my parents' Sunday School class and it was wonderful for a while. Then I sought out my own. My own age group, a different agenda, a different conversation.
I love my minister and I love worship. But like Jay, I embrace the intimacies of Sunday School. I think we really helped Karen and Terry last week (thanks to Lori) and I think we collectively hold each others hands and hearts.
Sunday School means I came for worship but right now, in this group, I'm here for you.

Cubicles

Is there anything worse than being assigned to a cubicle each day? Well, of course disasters like tornadoes, tsunamis and other freaks of nature come to mind. But in the day to day working world of us little worker bees, I think cubicles are the worst.

When I was a young worker at AFNB (about to become Bank One) I had a little office appropriate to my little job. When they were building the Bank One Tower (now the Chase Tower) I was shown the plan of seniority and cubicle size. I did not rank an office but I did get a rather large cubicle with a great view. I also managed a parking space in the underground garage which meant I could go from garage to garage without messing up my hair.

As I grew with the company and my beloved boss retired, I got his office. With a door. With a conference table. With art that inspired me.

A little less than a year ago, I took a wonderful job with a company who's mission I firmly believe in. As the little troll on the totem poll, I was assigned a cubicle. I (being me) decorated it. I put out a candy jar (which almost broke me) in a way to say, "Stop by. Get to know me. Help yourself."

I put great faith in one man (my boss) and he put great faith in me.

I now have a great office with a door that locks and two windows that let in the sunshine. I have no idea why that is important to me but it is. The only thing that I miss about Bank One is the bank plane. Since we're a small, not -for-profit credit union, I think I will continue to fly commercial.

Here's my advice for all business owners and managers out there. If you really want to stifle creativity and productivity:

Put them all in a cubicle
Make them clock in & out and account for every second of every day.

Easter Prayers

I pray a lot. I think everyone does. Even people who have no faith seem to call upon a higher being in certain times. I, boastfully, like knowing who I am talking to. (Sin #1 right there -- being boastfful.)

I have never made the connection with the Easter Bunny, the egg hunt, etc. That doesn't mean I haven't participated. I just don't get it. Of course, we did the Santa thing with young children while also recognizing the meaning of the season.

It's frustrating when God answers your prayers and the answer is no. I prayed like crazy for a couple of friends with cancer and yet, God decided to bring them home. Sometimes you've go to accept that God's plan differs from your plan.

But Easter represents new life and new beginnings. So with that in mind, I give you some Easter prayers:

Peace in households, peace in neighborhoods, peace in countries
Harmless animals who find welcoming homes
Children in need who receive help
Jobless people who find jobs
Badly dressed people who get a clue

Ok, I threw that last one in there to make you smile. Happy Easter to all.

The Fur Coat Story

A couple of years after I graduated from college, I went to a tailgate party. One of my college guy friends brought a date and she was wearing jeans, decked-out jewelry and a fur coat.

Those were the days before Facebook but trust me, I friended her immediately. Hell, I wanted to be her.

When Dan was the person I wanted to get to know, I borrowed her coat and did the parade lap at Friday's.

Before Dan and I married, he bought me a fur. Later, we were at some benefit and somehow I ended up with another. (Think lots of wine) I bought a mink stole at some antique shop and a girlfriend told me to put it away until I was over 40. I'm well over 40 and I've worn it a couple of times.

When the Captain and the Belle lived with us (my in-laws) she brought a couple of furs and I actually bought her one on a trip to Phoenix. I have since inherited her furs.

This is all to say that no one wears furs anymore and I have a closet full.

I occasionally wear one to the country club -- one of the few places I feel certain no one will throw blood or mustard on me. I wore one to my grandfather's funeral but in reflection I think I did that to make a statement -- "You may have tried to ignore my father but here we are!"

I had a call yesterday reminding me to have them cleaned and put in storage. ($$$$) I will do it. But, I will probably not redeem all that I put on deposit.

With a Full Heart

I am reading Katie Couric's book, which is a compilation of great advice from amazing people. Love her or hate her, she has tenacity and spunk. She has survived a great deal and seems to do it with an attitude of gratitude.

The book opens with a little story about her late husband who used to tell her that she must have been born on a sunny day. She calls it her greatest compliment -- the ability to see the glass half full, to find the silver lining -- fill in your cliche here.

Today I attended Palm Sunday service. I hugged people that I am blessed to hug pretty much every Sunday. Yesterday, I saw my friend come home from the hospital and she is doing well. Tomorrow, I go to a job that I waited a long time to come to fruition and I find I love it more every day.

A big dog welcomed me home with a big jump (Paws on the ground!) and a sloppy kiss. Lots of people claim to love me but no one shows me the love quite as demonstratively as Gabby.

I will put my palm above my doorway as a sign of Christian welcome. I will greet all who enter with that same spirit in my heart. And I will thank God for days like today when I am sure that I was born on a sunny day.

The Stupid Pill

I read a great line in a novel I was reading lately.

"When did you take the stupid pill and how quickly does it wear off?"

As someone who has taken a number of stupid pills in her life, I immediately identified. I am also guilty of looking at and listening to someone while judging them completely and totally addicted to stupid pills.

We all do stupid things. Some are harmless. Others wreck our marriages, our children, our finances, our trust in others and their ability to trust us.

I was recently looking at some photos on Facebook of people I love dearly. I saw a crazy amount of cleavage and beer bottles. I saw young people who will one day be looking for a job and these photos will come back to haunt them. I saw people I love who took the stupid pill.