Post-Op Shenanigans

Never leave inflatable gloves

where crazy peoples

can reach them.

 
 



Lifeboats

The rains came and the dam just outside of town broke. The water came rushing into town and began to rise around the houses.

A man was standing in his living room, water up to his ankles when his neighbor pulled up in the driveway in his SUV. “Come on, get in! I can help you! We’ll drive out of here before the water gets too high!”

The man smiled from his door and waved his friend on, “I’ve been praying! God will take care of me. Thanks, though!”  And his neighbor drove out of the neighborhood.

Soon the waters were so high the man had to go to the second floor of his house. The water was just below the sill of his upstairs window when one of his church friends came by in a fishing boat. “Get in! I can help by getting you out of here before the water gets too high!”

The man smiled from the window and waved his friend on. “No, it’s ok. I’ve been praying! God will take care of me. Thanks, though!” And his friend from church left.

Soon the waters were up to the gutters and the man was on his roof. Overhead came a police helicopter. They dropped a rope and yelled down to the man, “Grab on! We’ll help you! We will haul you up and save you before the waters consume your house!”

The man smiled and waved, refusing to grab hold of the rope. “No, please go. I’ve been praying! God will take care of me. Thanks, though!” And the helicopter flew away.

A short time later the waters consumed his home and the man drowned in the rushing water. At once, he was standing at the gates of heaven. God opened the gate with a look of surprise on his face and said, “What are YOU doing here? You’re not supposed to be here for years!”

And the man says, “Well lord, the dam broke and waters flooded the town. I prayed and I prayed and I prayed for you to save me from my trouble but you never showed up and I drowned.”

And God said, “Man, what about the SUV and the boat and the helicopter I sent?????”



Pray without ceasing,
expect miracles
and don't miss the lifeboats
God sends to your stormy seas.

And So It Begins

Here is how it starts.

We'll be sitting in the usual spot.

A restaurant.

A coffee shop

Like this one.

A favorite.

 

It will be a neighborhood sort of place

where people sit with laptops

and study

or biking buddies

and stop for a caffeine buzz

mid-morning ride

or catch up

over breakfast

with old friends.

 

It will be a

come as you are

kind of place

whether as you are be

yoga pants and sneakers

or college sweatshirt

and backpack.

 

It will be an Iowa sort of place.

With a hometown feel

and friendly chatter

drifting around the room

on the fragrance of coffee

good and strong.

 

And then they appear.

The entourage.

They will be polished

and properly dressed

for a Wall Street meeting

with $150 haircuts.

They will be smiling

just a little too big,

talking a little too loud,

eyes scanning the room

to see

who is present

who is watching.

 

And they will orbit

like little

crisp-shirted planets

around the

Star of the Day:

The Candidate.

 

And then

In. Walks. The. Candidate.

 

Democract

Republican

or

otherwise

they will be dressed in

one of two ways:

crisp, white shirt

with proper accents of

flag red or flag blue

in the tie/scarf/jewelry

or

farm-family casual

with sleeves rolled up just-so

and everyman/everywoman pants and shoes.

(Hog-lot appropriate, just in case.)

  

There will be baby kissing.

 And burger flipping.

There will be inspection of corn notsogood.

 

And corn lookingnotgreatbutbetter.

(No political lean intended here

not even a little bit

but

doesn't this photo just scream

"I spend lots of time in farm fields!"

 

Yeah.

(Smiling)

I think so too.

 

So anyway.

That's what they'll be wearing.

 

Today Chris Christie

chose the more formal attire

when he walked into the

local hangout

for breakfast and coffee.

Crisp, white shirt.

No jacket.

Dress pants.

 

As a politico friend of mine said

when I told him about seeing him here,

"And so it begins."

 

Indeed.

Today Governor Christie

was the first in what will be a

nonstop parade

of would-be candidates

and candidates

and probably

Bruce Springsteen.

 

 

And while it will look like

every person living in Iowa

came out to greet them

in general

no matter where they all go

the reaction will pretty much

be the same:

 

We'll keep drinking our coffee.

And talking about our kids.

And checking our phones to make sure

we're not late for our grandson's ballgame.

Because we're so used to having these folks around.

 

We remember not to park on certain streets

because CNN and all of the other satellite trucks

are blocking more than their share of lanes.

 

We see news anchors sitting at bars.

Press secretaries ordering lunch.

Celebrities ducking into Starbucks.

First ladies caravans

making us late to work.

It's all part of the game.

 

 

And every campaign

it starts earlier.



Can you spot the maybe-candidate for President in this picture?

(Hint: it's not the one with hands clasped like a reverent nun.)

(I made it easy, follow the arrow....yep, the one

basking in the glow. Sidenote: it was glowing in that spot

before he arrived.

Just sayin.)

 

Can you spot the TV camera?

Can you spot the weary reporter?

(Buck up, kid. It's a long road to the election and you might

as well grab a punch card. You're going to be

earning lots of free coffee in this state.)

 

CAN YOU spot the incognito security guy??

(Hint: He needs to review the Incognito Manual)

 

And so it begins.

Welcome would-be, won't-be and I-hope-you'll-be candidates.

You pump fistfuls of cash

into our local economy

with your expense accounts.

 

We're glad you're here

and you can be sure

regardless of political ilk

we'll welcome you like neighbors.

 

 

A Time for Everything

 

Ecclesiastes 3: 1-8

There is a time for everything,

and a season for every activity under the heavens:

a time to be born and a time to die,

a time to plant and a time to uproot,

a time to kill and a time to heal,

a time to tear down and a time to build,

a time to weep and a time to laugh,

a time to mourn and a time to dance,

a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them,

a time to embrace and a time to refrain from embracing,

a time to search and a time to give up,

a time to keep and a time to throw away,

a time to tear and a time to mend,

a time to be silent and a time to speak,

a time to love and a time to hate,

a time for war and a time for peace.

 

There is a time for all things;

a time for all of these good and right things

in the unfolding.

 

 

It's good.

It's all very very good.

 

 



Sense of Touch

Should I

possibly suggest,

through my frequent choice of

inspirational thoughts,

a life

free of the usual

day to day complexities

and indignities

everyone else suffers,

here's this mornings

down and dirty:

 

3 AM

Sound asleep.

Awakened abruptly

from a warm and

snuggled-in sleep,

by the sound of this one

horking hairballs

onto my second-favorite pillow

about three inches from

my head.

 

 

Sweet face or no,

we were not amused.

 



I'm Here

I can't erase the past.

But I'll keep pointing at the future

and reminding you

every day is new.

 

I can't answer every question.

But I'll pray while you seek

the answers.

 

I'll walk next to you.

And sit with you.

And stand by you.

I will listen.

I will hug.

I will cry.

I will laugh.

 

I'm not going anywhere.

 



Embracing the Burden

 

While there are

plenty of things

I don't like about the amazing

advances in technology

and our increased

ability to communicate,

I take full advantage

of the beauty

of those advances

too.

Every morning
I spend an hour or so
listening and learning
from messages
posted online
by a variety of churches.

One of them is
North Point Church
in Atlanta
where Andy Stanley is pastor.

It took me a while
to find my place
as a student of
Andy's teaching
but I'm there now.

This is a favorite thought
which recently
resonated with me
in a powerful way.

One of these days
when the time is right
and my puzzle pieces are fitted
just a wee bit tighter
corners secure,
I'll tell you about the burden on my heart.
Not today. 

Today,
let me tell you how
an Iowa girl
came to listen and learn
with the congregation of
North Point Church
in Atlanta, Georgia.

My dearest, sweet

and much-adored mentor

Judy W

used to say to me

in her slight Southern drawl

"Meggie,

if you love Dr. Charles Stanley

you absolutely MUST

listen to his son, Andy."

 

First thing:

No, my name isn't Meggie.

She called me that

because she thought

(don't choke here, I have no clue why)

I looked like Meg Ryan

the first time we met

when taking a shared class

on the University of Denver campus.

(Sorry Judy. Not even in dim light on a cloudy day.
I blurred sweet Meggie up a bit and hid behind a weed, too.
Nope. No resemblance, gurrrrrrl. None.)

 

"Meggie!

You just muuuuuuuuuust

listen to his sermons.

Oh darling girl,

he is sooooooo much better

than his Daddy and you knowwwwwww

how I love his Daddy!"

 

Second thing:

Yes, Judy was a cherished friend and mentor.

No, I had no inclination to

follow this particular advice

because her description

sorta made me think of some

young kid

standing up in front of a congregation

hot-dogging on his Daddy's coat tails

and I had no interest

in entertaining

that

sort of sideshow.

 

Yeah, that's really what I thought.

Shame on me.

Shame on me for not trusting my Judy

who was to be trusted

in all things

if anyone at all

can ever be trusted.

But on this count,

I just ignored her advice.

 

I liked Dr. Charles Stanley.

Loved him, actually.

I'd listened to him on the radio

for years.

No reason to

go in search

of his kid.

 

So.

Fast-forward a few years.

My precious friend

went home to be with the Lord

years ago after a brave
battle with cancer.

I miss her terribly.

Actually I still write her emails now and then.

And no, I don't think she's checking them out

from heaven.

And I honestly don't know

what happens to our email boxes

when we die.

But our friendship lived

mostly on computer screens

and email pages

since she lived in Colorado

and I lived in Iowa.

It just seems natural to

continue chatting with her

by email

now and then.

 

I miss her

and credit her with

teaching me so many many things

and serving as a treasured

and much-revered mother figure

in my adult life.

 

This summer

quite unexpectedly

I came face to face

with some heart challenges

which required the

serious stretching of my

faith muscles.

Ouch.

 

I thought I was pretty good on the

faith treadmill

but a few intense miles

reminded me

my spirit was in need of

deeper conditioning.

 

Seeking to

deepen my

understanding

of God's Word

and his direction in my life

I reflected on

the wisdom shared with me

through the years

by wise friends

as I sought direction

and a stronger faith

to rely on

as I walked

some unexpected paths

of confusion

and challenge.

 

In the midst of it

I heard Judy's sweet voice

urging me to listen and learn from

her favorite pastor on earth:

Andy Stanley.

 

Years after her

gentlest of persuasion,

I gave in to the urging

of that dear voice.

I went looking for Andy.

 

I'm so glad I did.

He's a wonderful speaker

I love his scripture-based messages

which I find

feed my soul

pique my interest to learn more

and help satisfy my longing to grow

deeper in my

walk with Jesus.

 

I am so very, very thankful for North Point Church

from whose platform he (and others) preach.

I'm thankful

Sunday service messages

from North Point Church services

are available online.

 

And I'm so thankful to my

dear Judy for hounding me

over and over

and over

to listen. 

 

Miss you, dear one.
I'm listening.
I'm learning.

Most recently I went through a 2-part series called
Killin' It.

Y'oughta give a listen.
Click below.
And I hope the messages
bless your heart
like they did mine.

North Point Church / Killin' It Series

 

 

A Proper Place for Every Thing

I never use a recipe

so the meatloaf is different

every time.

 

This weekend's version?

It was

pretty darn good

~ especially good, I might even venture ~

if I do say so myself.

 

I only wish

I'd remembered

to put the leftovers

into the refrigerator

after wrapping them

with a Ziploc

instead of leaving them

on the kitchen counter.

 

 

 

 

 

I knew the winter birds

would be just

so excited

when I bought the big bag

of sunflower seeds.

 

How I wish

I had remembered

to put it up in the cupboard

instead of leaving it

on a lower

kitchen shelf.

 

 

 

As the temperatures drop

the dry air

assaults my skin

in the worst way

leaving my little

crackled-up self

begging

for humidity.

 

My squatty bit of a

favorite tube of

Neutrogena

is the bestest

of forever friends

in the winter.

Just a dab!

It's so concentrated

that's all I need.

 

My goodness

how I wish

I'd remembered to tuck that tube

into a drawer of my bedside table

instead of leaving it

lying on the bed yesterday morning

after my shower.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

???????? WHAT ???????? 

 

Overcoming Fear



It's All About the Shirt

 

It's my

good luck shirt.

I walk further

and work harder

when I wear it

to the gym.

I really

think I do.

 

 

 

They're more like

afternoon moves

but they're

good moves

all the same.

And that's what

the ol' girl

was needing.

 

Thank you, Bob Seger.

 

Just a few

good moves

to get ready for a

brand new knee

in two weeks. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Brrrrr

Don't mind it.

 

As long as the furnace is working.

(It wasn't)

 

As long as the remote start on my car is working

so I can warm it up and get those sweet, heated seats cranked up to
warm-bun cozy before I have to sit on them.
(It isn't)

 

As long as I don't have to go outside into the cold.

(I do.)

If that be the case

and I must venture out

to test my wits against the elements

of nature

I'm thankful to do so

wrapped in a

clump-lusciously fabulous

hand-knitted scarf

to keep my neck

deliciously

warm.

Thank you, crafty niece!

 

Winter?

Mehhhh, it ain't so bad.

Unfold

 

This year

instead of thinking

and planning

and considering

I'm just

buckling in

rolling down the window

throwing back my head

and enjoying

the ride.

 

What's the worst thing that could happen?

 

I'll be swept away by a moment?

Taken completely by surprise?

Rendered speechless

(don't bet on it)

at how fun life is

on a road

without a map?

Patience doesn't mean making a pact with the devil of denial
ignoring our emotions and aspirations
It means being wholeheartedly engaged in the process that's unfolding
rather than ripping open
a budding flower
or demanding a caterpillar
hurry up and get that chrysalis stage
over with.
Sharon Salzburg

 

The voice I hear

is just a whisper

but the words

are clear.

 

Oh Debbie
relax and enjoy the ride,
I got all of this.

 

 

 



Glorious Sunrise; Beautiful Day

The day started with a text message

which arrived as my cat was trying to talk me

into getting out of bed.

I was up earlier.

Crawled back in.

 

Good morning! Look at this glorious sunrise!

Suggest you have a little preparation at home

in case of surprise snow event.

 

Glorious sunrise, indeed!

Man, I wish I had a view of it in the mornings.

Sunrise is my favorite time of day.

 

I got up and checked out my sliver of a view.

 

 

Glorious, indeed!

Even just my tiny little sliver of it was so lovely 

through the living room window.

 

Snowstorm?

I figured it was just a joke.

 

A few hours later

right after lunch

the snow started to fall

and it just kept snowing and snowing

until I packed up and left work early

wondering about the roads.

 

I didn't have to wonder long.

The roads sucked.

The snow was coming down so hard

I couldn't keep my windshield clear.

 

Ice was building up.

I used my washer fluid.

Cool!

Now the ice was thicker but

a really really pretty

bright blue.

Awesome.

 

Finally I had to jump out of the car

while stopped at a light

in traffic

and see if I could snap some of the ice

from my wiper blades.

 

"SNAP" would be the pivotal word here.

Snap, indeed.

I flicked at the ice on the blade and

S N A P.

 

Interestingly

and certainly inopportune

considering all the cars around me,

the whiteout conditions

and the thick layer of ice on my windshield.....

all of a sudden I was holding

a wiper blade in my hand.

 

It was an odd feeling.

I liken it to what one might sense

should one reach out to shake someone's hand

and end up pulling their arm off.

Not a good feeling.

Not a good feeling at all.

 

I looked over at the guy sitting next to me

in traffic and his eyes

were bugged out

staring at me

not wanting to laugh

at me standing there with my wiper blade

in my hand

and praying

I'm pretty sure

I wouldn't yell

"Help me!"

in his direction.

 

When the snow is falling

and the wind is blowing

and ice is building up

apparently

it's every driver for themselves.

Whatever, dude.

I got this.

I know wiper blades snap back on.

No problem.

I got this.

 

Well.

There was too much ice on the blade

to quickly snap it into place.

The lights were changing.

Traffic was starting to move.

There was no way to keep the windshield clear

no where to turn for help

and I'm not much for crying in traffic

so I got back in my car

and squeezed my brave little Saturn nose up

real nice and close to the truck in front of me.

We were cozy. Really cozy.

Cozy enough

I'm pretty sure my license plate number

is now tattooed on his rear bumper.

All the while he had no clue.

He was none the wiser

of our symbiotic relationship...

a truth which burdens me

with a small measure of guilt

considering

I'm pretty sure

it wasn't nearly as fulfilling a relationship

for him

as it was for me.

 

That aside.

Thank you big truck

with big taillights

for helping me through the intersection.

I followed you for half a mile or so

until I finally slid onto a side street

and you left me.

LEFT. ME.

 

After all we'd been through.

I watched your taillights disappear

and ok, I will admit it.

I almost

almost

cried in traffic.

But, nope.

No sir.

You can leave me Mister

but you ain't gonna make me cry.

I had a wiper blade to re-attach.

 

So I ended up nose-first in a massive driveway

leading to a very large house

in a big neighborhood.

Up the road a US Mail truck

was making its way

box by box by roadside box

inching nearer

with every handful of mail

delivered to a nearby address.

 

Yay!!!!

I was a postal carrier for many years!

Fate has smiled down upon me.

A handy automotively-inclined mail delivery fellow

will no doubt

pull up here momentarily

and help me!

 

Wanting to look proficient and able

I leaned over my car,

ankle-deep in snow

and reached across the hood

to re-attach the blade.

 

And that's when the connection mechanism

broke into about three pieces

in my hand.

 

This is not good.

NOT good at all.

(Swearing was becoming an attractive option.)

 

So consumed was I

in the unfortunate circumstance of the

shattering connector

I failed to notice the mail carrier

exit his vehicle

walk up the driveway toward me

and stand by the opposite side of my car.

 

I looked up.

He smiled.

I smiled,

already grateful for the good training

afforded him by his dear mother.

My good Samaritan had arrived!

 

He handed me the mail.

 

HUH????

Yeah. He handed me the mail.

And this is where the shameful thing happened.

It did.

I'm sorry.

It shouldn't have.

But it did.

 

I rolled my eyes.

I can eye-roll right up there with the best of them.

Not proud of it.

Not gonna promise I'll never do it again

I'm a work in progress, you know.

Right there in the snow

I looked into his smiling face

and I gave him my very best

ARE YOU FREAKING KIDDING ME

eye roll

and I said

(quite possibly in a sarcastic tone of voice)

"Do I LOOK like I live here?"

 

Shame. Shame. Shame.

Shame, Debbie. Shame.

He's just a guy trying to do his job.

(Tried to hand off first-class personal mail to a total unidentified stranger

so I'm not saying he was doing his job WELL

but a guys gotta earn a living, right.)

 

He turned and cut a deep path through the long driveway of snow

to the front door of the house.

As he came back down the drive I immediately found it in my heart

to forgive him the rough start to our relationship.

 

"Well," I laughed, "I MIGHT have to sleep here

tonight if I can't figure out how to fix this wiper blade!"

Smiling at him

with a big

all-is-forgiven

smile.

 

He smiled back.

He got in his truck and drove away.

Another snowstorm relationship bites the dust.

 

(Note to self, Deb:

You're going through men today

like a hooker goes through red lipstick.

Make note

to up your

damsel-in-distress game.

It's gonna be a long winter.)

 

Left to my own devices

shattered wiper connection in hand

I got on my phone and started texting

for possible help.

 

I did get a couple of interesting, helpful responses.

 

Mike was no where near and suggested I look up a

windshield wiper attachment tutorial on YouTube.

 

Ryan was miles away too

but wanted me to know he and his wife just found

the "Free Babysitting" coupon I gave them as a shower gift when

their now-toddler was born and by the way, does this thing expire

and had I heard they were having twins?

 

I knew Bill was no where near

I just needed the moral support

and I asked him to pray.

 

That's what I was doing.

Literally.

I was standing in what was actually

a beautiful snowstorm

in a neighborhood of beautiful homes

and magnificent old trees

looking up through the branches

and asking,

"God, what am I gonna do??"

No way to call road service, it'd be hours.

I couldn't see to drive, the ice and snow kept building up

even as I scraped it off with my glove.

Everyone else was stuck in their own snowstorm trouble.

The snow wasn't going to be stopping until hours later.

It was gonna get dark soon.

"What am I gonna do?"

 

My reaction to this kinda stuff is always

pretty much the same.

I laugh.

I do.

Ridiculous situations

you'd more likely see on a sitcom

always just make me laugh.

Really?

You were standing in traffic

in a snowstorm

and your wiper blade busts off in your hand?

That's funny, right there.

We might be frozen to death by morning

in a strangers driveway

but that is funny.

 

As I laughed,

all I could think was.....

well girl, let's make MacGuyver proud.

 

I started plowing through the resources in my car:

Seven Starbucks stir sticks

A spatula.

A bottle of Windex.

 A nice selection of CDs in a variety of musical genres.

A dog bone.

Three Bic pens (medium point)

and a big, long stem of dried switchgrass,

a souvenir from a summer Sunday

road cruise.

 

And my gloves.

And the rubber handle that slipped off

my snowscraper, last storm.

 

Ahhhhh-HA!!!!!!!!!!!!

 

 

I know it looks like I ran down Mickey Mouse

but that's my glove

stretched over the rubber handle of my ice scraper

and squished onto the little

back-and-forthy-thing

of my windshield wipers.

 

I got back in the car

said another prayer,

pushed back into traffic

in the direction of a service center

just a couple of miles down the road.

 

Somehow my little glove had a mind to be helpful

stepping up to the snowstorm plate,

cutting the tiniest swath of a peep hole

in the windshield ice,

allowing me to see

taillights.

 

I barnacled us onto yet another truck in front of us

trusting him to make tracks I could follow

and before too long

I was turning into the service center.

 

My hands were so frozen

I could barely turn the door handle

but darn if the first thing I saw

when I walked into the little office

was a wiper blade display!

 

YES!

Smiling to greet me was Trent

whom I immediately adopted as one of my sons

promising birthday gifts and invitations

to Christmas dinner until the day I die.

 

He sold me blades.

And he put them on my car.

(Take THAT, post office mail guy.)

 

  

 

Thank you God, for keeping me safe.

Thanks to my dear ones

for being there when I reached out with text my messages.

 

And thank you Trent

for welcoming me into a warm little office,

for laughing with me

and helping me find my way safely home.