Don’t ask me where I am.
OK. You can ask.
But I don’t really know.
Sitting in a restaurant that’s closed. (A nice lady said it was OK.)
Got here after I was turned away from Amicalola Falls State Park
Now you know where I am.
It’s called “lost.”
**
Went to a funeral this morning.
Young lady, 23.
I hardly knew her.
Extended family of one of my daughters.
Let’s just use the word “tragic."
Saw both my girls at the funeral.
Both my grandsons. The Princess, too.
When the service was over and we were all making our way to a true meal of fellowship, it hit me that – for the first time – all my grandchildren were in one place, and I was there.
In a resplendent display of my “It’s all about me” attitude, I commandeered everyone long enough to get pictures of myself with my grandchildren.
Simply thrilling.
For me, anyway. Annoying for everyone else who actually understood why we all gathered together.
Got the pictures.
Love them.
Love my family.
Although I continue to place my needs above theirs at such times.
***
The Musician and The Artist
Met them last night.
Nice folks.
They live in an RV and travel the country.
With their dog.
Meandering around America
That’s what I’d love to do for a year or two.
Maybe more, depending upon the companionship.
Or lack thereof.
Didn’t hear the musician play or sing.
Heard him bark at his babe, though.
Makes me angry to hear men sound the way I did for so long.
I mean, what’s the matter with these people?
Why can’t they be better than me?
sheesh
I am so old that I don’t give a rip ...
how well you sing.
how many songs you’ve written
how many chords you know
or if you can do that annoying machine-gun doodley-doo thing trumpeters do to show off.
Wanna be significant to me?
Be nice to your lady.
**
No man would last 30 days as a woman.
We’d strangle the first person who crossed us during what Melinda’s mother used to call “The Curse.”
And we’d never wear high-heeled shoes, pantyhose, skirts in the winter, keep our legs crossed, not fart in public, or wax anything.
Natural childbirth? Ha! Men can hardly survive occasional hemorrhoids. The birthrate would be zero within days.
If men ever had to switch roles with women, we would *never* pretend that other men were funny, smart, charming, attractive or worth putting up with. And the first guy who grabbed us would awake, as the French would say, “sans winkie.”
If a man ever rudely told another man to get up and make him a sandwich, grab him a beer, change the channel, rub his neck and then shut up because the game is back on there would be no discussion. Only gunfire. And there wouldn’t be a jury anywhere that would convict the shooter. He’d probably get free ammo for a month from Little Bill’s Patriotic Guns & Bait Shop.
***
The Half-Life of Love
Maybe women get scammed by men who put on SUCH a good show in the beginning.
Opening doors. Gifts. Dinners out.
Actual kissing. Holding hands RIGHT IN PUBLIC.
Gargling, flossing, wearing drawers without skid marks.
Helping in the kitchen.
Smiling. Listening.
Being sweet. And nice.
How many women LONG to have their significant others speak to them the way their “lovers” speak to unknown waitresses? (And if a man *doesn’t* speak to waitresses kindly, what hope do you think YOU have, ladies?)
I actually believe an observant person can tell how long couples have been together by watching how they deal with one another. Yes, maybe it’s abandoning performance-based acceptance or they simply settle into habits they’re fine with. What do I know?
Love fades sometimes.
***
Becca
(Sorry I put this off until the end.
Just. Don’t. Want. To. Deal. With. It.)
I love how nothing is wasted in nature.
Walk through a forest or spend hours gazing out my windows into The Dancing Deer Forest. Try to find anything that doesn’t contribute to the Grand Scheme.
Everything works together in God’s creation.
Even death and decay have a place.
I want to believe that nothing is wasted in our lives.
*
Been thinking about this since I heard about Becca’s death.
At 23.
She had an army of people to do battle on her behalf.
To come alongside or to fight for her when she didn’t have the strength herself.
Joey the Wise says, “Most of our wounds are self-inflicted.”
If I understand correctly, Becca didn’t protect herself from harm.
Enough, anyway.
And not even an army can protect us from ourselves when we yield to invaders.
*
Becca’s life wasn’t wasted, it seems to me.
Bet there were 200 people there today to celebrate her life. To support her parents and family. To mourn. To confront the evils that entice all of our children … and to renew our vows to do what we can to protect them from what seems so attractive ... at first.
Becca’s life matters, without regard to how or how quickly it ended.
It always will.
***
Meredith
Made me think of Meredith, a woman I never met … who changed my life. Seems like I’ve always known her and the others who were affected by her life.
Meredith was a victim of a maniac.
Her life ended needlessly on a frigid January day in 2008.
Meredith’s death was a tragedy.
But it wasn’t a waste. A serial killer was stopped, for example.
Meredith’s life and death inspired many people to work for the safety of those who love the woods. We will not allow her passing to snuff out her memory.
That’s the purpose of Right to Hike. You’re welcome to join us.
**
Becca and Meredith matter.
They are gone.
They will not be forgotten.
We will protect their memory.
We will do what we can to protect others … from themselves and from strangers.
**
We will all die someday.
Who will celebrate our lives?
Why will they celebrate our lives?
Why will our lives matter?
Why will our passing matter?
How will others be better off because of our existence?
**
I’ve never been to a funeral where anyone was eulogized for their wealth or beauty. When we speak of the lives of others … we relate tales of sacrifice and giving. Remembrances of our love for them and their love for others.
“True worth is in being, not seeming,
In doing, each day that goes by,
Some little good--not in dreaming
Of great things to do by and by.
For whatever men say in their blindness,
And spite of the fancies of youth,
There's nothing so kingly as kindness,
And nothing so royal as truth.”
I am learning to revere kindness.
Might even begin to practice it. Someday.
**
We cannot undo our failures.
We cannot make others forgive us.
**
The past is the past.
The future is the issue now.
As a Christian, I have the example of Christ, a pattern to follow.
And I can draw upon God’s strength to accomplish His will.
I have hope that God can even use our failures for His glory.
***
Had many lean years.
Spiritual droughts.
Many wars and battles.
***
I’ve learned that our days here are indefinite.
Transient. Temporary.
Able to be wasted. Able to be meaningless.
And I’ve learned that it is never too late to inspire others.
As Becca and Meredith did.
***
I believe that the more we become like Christ, by the strength of God, the greater our chance of impacting others ... now and forever.
So, when I go, don’t cry for me.
Just download All My Tears, by Julie Miller and sing it once in a while.
And remember me well.
Please.
In spite of my faults, sins and failures.
If you go first, I’ll do the same for you.
I promise.
:~)
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