Fit Bit, for your soul

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Here’s another kudos and hats-off to Hollywood (yes, I actually do like some of their stuff).  I’m remembering the movie that came out many years ago called Mr. Holland’s Opus, and if you haven’t seen it, do.  Without spoilers, the storyline chronicles the young would-be professional musician who opts to teach high school band class while he works away on his dream job.

And, akin to most of us, life happens.

But surprisingly, something else transpires in the midst those life events.  Through his decisions to put first things first, purposefully setting his priorities on other than himself, his life and career are enriched in ways he never imagined. 

There.  I’ll leave it at that, since it’s enough to get where I want to go next—

There has been a push in our recent culture telling us Continue reading “Fit Bit, for your soul”

The divinity of a broken heart

wood 2As I write this, Christmas 2015 is only shortly behind us, after which (and possibly even before) Walmart already had shelves stocked with red and pink oversized heart-shaped boxes of Valentine chocolates.  (Not that you can ever have oversized boxes of chocolates, the more the merrier, I say.)   

It’s always fun to break open and tear off the wrapper to see what’s inside—all kinds of different, great-tasting goodies (well, okay, some just “different”) smothered in the dark stuff.  Of course, if you’re not brave enough to just dig in and surprise your tastebuds, you can always cop out and look at the “guide” on the top of the package.  Chocolate-covered dates?  I’ll pass.

I’m not sure when people started linking Continue reading “The divinity of a broken heart”

In Other Words…

NEW BOB

Solid food is for those who are mature, who through training have the skill to recognize the difference between right and wrong.”

Holy Bible. New Living Translation copyright© 1996, 2004, 2007, 2013 by Tyndale House Foundation. Used by permission of Tyndale House Publishers Inc., Carol Stream, Illinois 60188. All rights reserved.

The Buck Stops here

neuschwanstein-castle-467116_1280I’m from Indiana, and the debate is still open as to where the term “Hoosier” comes from.  No matter, since for more than a couple of decades we have lived in the “Show Me” state of Missouri, a mindset which suits me fairly well.

It’s not that I choose to be somewhat skeptical; it just comes naturally. 

One of the other things that Missouri has going for its reputation is Harry S. Truman.  This famous photograph is also something I can relate to:

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credit: wikipedia

That’s just one of many things I love about Harry.  And I’m not even a Democrat.

The opposite was true about our first parents (not that they were Democrats, either.)  Adam was probably pretty content hanging out in Eden, until some Continue reading “The Buck Stops here”

Please and thank you…or not

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“And I didn’t even get a thank you note!”

‘Fess up.  How many times have you thought that, or some version of it?  You let someone cut in line in a traffic jam, and instead of them giving you a polite wave, the guy behind you gives you a not-so-polite one finger salute.  That’s what I’m talking about.  Just a little appreciation for the sacrifice, if you don’t mind.  At least, that’s what mom taught me back in the day.

Here’s another good one—you choose to start this tithing thing to your church, and end up getting a rejection notice from your insurance company about those impacted wisdom teeth you just had removed.  Now who you gonna aim your frustration at, hmmm??

And yet, for some wisdom beyond Continue reading “Please and thank you…or not”

Not My Poetry

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I R-E-A-L-L-Y want to introduce you to Mitch Teemley’s site.  His sense of humor mixed with his poignant comments (not to mention his writing skill) will keep you coming back again and again.  And then I found that he even writes poetry!!  Okay, enough talent in one package already!

And, BTW, I think this should be our mantra toward all fellow bloggers (just sayin’)…

 

Whether or not, fellow soul,

I should choose to choose you,

I vow to always see you whole

and never ever use you.

Mitch also has an ongoing story line you can follow called

THE WISHING MAP

Elementary, my dear Watson

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Man, I love a good mystery!  A locked-from-the-inside whodunit usually gets my attention; our girls grew up with Nancy Drew and even today Father Brown beckons to me from the teley.  So when I saw that Ian McKellen was casted for an aged Sherlock in the recent flick Mr. Holmes, I was all about that.  It quickly became one of our Friday “pizza and a movie” nights—Bob picked up the flick and I made the pizza.

Both were great!  (Well, the crust was a little too thick, but McCellan was superb…)

I continue to be intrigued how the secular entertainment industry often times, if not unknowingly, leaves the door open for otherwise Judeo-Christian concepts.  Such was my impression of Mr. Holmes.  (If you haven’t seen the movie, feel free to proceed to the next post in your Reader, but I don’t think I have any spoilers.  Of course, I’m not done composing yet, am I?)

Sherlock, now 93, is experiencing a degeneration in his mental acuity, forgetting names, events.  (I’m 57, and that’s normal life for me, but I digress.)  Since his life is built on logic and facts, he naturally turns to science to boost his cranial capacity, as he is desperately trying to recall his last case thirty years hence that was the unfortunate catalyst for his retirement. 

Science is of no help to his failing faculties, but Sherlock is surprised by the healing power of something he never truly valued—relationships.  Loving interaction with friends who are faithful, appreciation of the people around us.  In other words, the master detective realizes (better late than never) that life cannot be reduced to facts and figures (a concept that has been increasingly prevalent in our culture).  We are more than the chemicals in our brains, and we need more than what the religion of science has to offer.

Don’t mistake what I’m saying, please.  Just as a point of reference, my husband has a Ph.D. in molecular, cellular and developmental biology from Indiana University.  My father and brother are M.E’s from Purdue.  We’re all about science stuff.  God created it.

 It’s just that there’s more to life.  Much, much more.

 God puts it this way:

Then the Lord God said, ‘It is not good for the man to be alone. I will make a helper who is just right for him.'”

The God/human community of interaction.  We are fashioned for that.  We need that “something more”.  And even though Sherlock  Holmes doesn’t quite make that complete connection by the end of the movie, he’s definitely moving in the right direction.

Hats off the Hollywood on that one!

 

Genesis 2:18  Holy Bible. New Living Translation copyright© 1996, 2004, 2007, 2013 by Tyndale House Foundation. Used by permission of Tyndale House Publishers Inc., Carol Stream, Illinois 60188. All rights reserved.

Better than d’Artagnan

neuschwanstein-castle-467116_1280I’m not literary, to begin with.  My school-age years were spent during the golden age of this somewhat new-fangled thing called television, and it was easier to watch Ed Sullivan than it was to read a book.  Thankfully, when our oldest child was a tender toddler, I found my way to the local library of the small town that was our current home.  Thus began a love affair with books for my children (and me!) that has never stopped. 

The girls flew the coop years ago, but somehow Bob and I started reading together; that is, he reads to me while I crochet in my rocking chair.  Seriously.  We look like we’re posing for a Norman Rockwell painting.  So the classics I never read are still available (children’s included) and we’re picking them off one by one. 

Case in point: The Three Musketeers.  I don’t know why Dumas called it that, since the there are really four; nonetheless, it was fun, and the author does a good job at developing the unique character of each persona, so we decided to read the sequel.  (I don’t recommend it, unless you’re into literature for the sake of literature.  Me?  I just want to be summarily entertained, which Continue reading “Better than d’Artagnan”

Roses are red, etc…

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I know, I know.  This is called “Not-My-Poetry”, but I couldn’t resist.  It is, after all, a) my site, and b) traditionally a woman’s prerogative to change her mind.  So I thought I would add my yet-to-be-discovered talent to the mix.  I do, however, maintain my disclaimer HERE.

Proceed at your own risk. (An encomium to some great folks where I work.)

 

To: Our most wonderful middle school custodians!

Have I told you lately how much I appreciate all you do??  (No, probably not, so here it is again–)

ROSES ARE RED

AND CALL ME A KOOK

BUT I’D RATHER DO BLOOD

THAN MOP UP THE PUKE

(wait a minute, that wasn’t very good, let me try again…)

ROSES ARE RED

AND PB IS BROWN

CLEANING MY FLOOR

COULD MAKE ANYONE FROWN

(wait, except for Donna, ‘cuz she’s always smiling.  Once more…)

ROSES ARE RED

AND IVY IS GREEN

YOU ARE THE ONES

WHO KEEP MY ROOM CLEAN!

(So who cares what color roses are anyway!  You guys are super to work with!! Thanks for all you do!  Nurse Dawn, the “non-poet”)Picture1

 

“God is more powerful than my stupid”

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My husband’s brothers and their childhood friends are an interesting lot.  Nice guys, really, but growing up in the 60’s and 70’s, they made their mark, and thankfully were also prevented from doing so a time or two.

One of the (many) stories that has passed into family lore has to do with Bob’s brother and a friend who were caught as they were trying to set fire to some old newspapers in an alley within a neighbor’s garage.  For “some reason” (thank God for guardian angels), the Continue reading ““God is more powerful than my stupid””