Love is Not a Natural Occurence

Good morning everyone.  Today is absolutely beautiful and the morning is so perfect one would want to absorb it.  Absorb is an old fashioned word that many choose not to use in the literary world of writing adverbs.  When I think of absorb, I remember once when I was in love I used to think it would be wonderful to absorb the man.  Good thing I didn’t.  It would have changed who I am. Hmmm….makes me wonder about a lot of things pertaining to love.  MY BELIEF:

“Love is not a natural occurrence”

I believe that we are emotionally attracted to others.  When I held my son for the first time or when they handed me my daughter.  Wow.  I loved them both so much.  Emotion city magnified.  Right?  Now think about this.  If I had given them away and walked away without ever looking back would that love have been as overwhelming as it was that first time I held them in my arms?  I do not think so.  I do believe the heart hungers for the love we lose or walk away from but the extreme emotions just are not there.  We choose to love and allow that love into our life.  Regardless of the situation or the person in our life, we have a choice.  We either love them or we do not.

My childhood was huge to me because I was taught to love.  My parents loved me so much they drove me crazy once I decided I wanted to have my own way about something.  My parents had no choice in their minds, but to prove their love yet again, by saying no. No, no, no, and I forgot all of the yeses!  We must remember to teach our children to love.  If we do not, then they will not have a pattern to fall in love and teach their children to love. 

If we were just programmed to love then Christ would not have been so adamant about his teachings.  I call it the New Testament, AD, Commandment.  “Love one another as I have loved you.”  This does not mean give everyone everything they think they should have.  This does not mean provide more than you can afford to, to prove your love.  “Love Hurts”.  That was a song title and if you recall it also states, “Love mars and scars.”  My Dad was known for his little quip, “You’ll get over it.” When I hear myself or one of my siblings make this remark I smile because it is true.  If the love you lost or chose not to invest yourself in hurts then remember that you will get over it.  We only carry with us the true loves that we gave our all to and have lost by one means or another because we gave all and knew it even just short of dying for them.

When a woman makes the statement, “You did not carry that child so you do not understand my decision”.  She has the right to say this to you.  Women invest all of themselves into the health and caring of their child and when the child is born that does not change.  This child becomes a visible person outside of the womb that requires the Mother to continually invest in every phase of his/her life.  I hear my children tell one another, concerning my grandchildren, “I choose the battles.  I cannot dictate a life to them.”  That would make parents controlling and give no live to the young ones for exploration and choosing the right things for themselves.  They must fail from time to time or they may never learn the importance of being successful.  When children are dictated every move then any failure becomes gigantic in their minds.  On the other hand, when a parent knows what is best and the child is not adhering to the best causing harm, danger to others or to themselves, then a parent has a battle to enter in and not give in.  New idea, Mama Up!  Daddy Up, sometimes Grandma or Grandpa Up, Teacher Up, just the same as a Cowboy Up!  This takes a lot of love investing.  For some there may be a lot of self-learning before the Step Up.  Facts change a situation in a moment so we all have to continually learn and trust to see it happen.  It takes a village to raise a child, hmmm… love and learning must begin with the tree the little apples fell from, and the village contributes.

We were taught to love everyone but we were not held accountable for loving them, when people were abusive or mistrustful.  I decided from all I had been taught, that I could easily have loved the abuser or mistrustful person if they had been the person they were created to be.  I could have watched over, nurtured and invested my emotions and affection on them.  People do get lost and we have large and caring hearts for them but we cannot allow ourselves to be abused or mistreated.  The person can overcome their choices of inflicting pain on others.  That beginning is itself their first choice.

So, Love is Not a Natural Occurrence.  I choose to save the most precious ability I poses for those whom I treasure and daily invest my time, attention, and affection in.  The ability to love! When we love wholeheartedly with everything we have, we must remember to love ourselves.  If we cannot do this we have to remember that love is not a natural occurrence and today we invest in us.  I know first-hand how hard this is because I forgot to love myself for many years.  Be happy every day and have fun!

God's Hugs

Good morning all.  A day like today would be a good reason to change the reason we call home the Treasure Coast.  The weather is our treasure today and the ocean is bringing a soft, yet steady wind across the beaches.  It is so beautiful!  Today my blog time will be devoted to the most precious part of a parent’s heart; children. I cannot speak for all of you so I can only example my experiences.

The Viet Nam War (crisis) deprived my son and daughter of their father before they even had time to know him.  A sweet home-town Christian boy left us and returned a man that no one understood.  All of the wisdom in the world could never prepare families for these tumultuous times.  Well it wasn’t long before he chose his own path to walk and it did not include his family, so life began again the way it first began; just the three of us.  Some of you can relate to this and sadly, too many of you.  We were scrutinized, criticized and passed over by an older generation who simply wanted everything to remain the same.  How could it?  There have been generations of single moms rearing their children alone, yet this time we were treated like we were diseased.  Yep.  A lot of forgiveness has come down the pike and a lot of that same, torture of being different came with it.

Now, let’s stop and think about this.  The children grew up without the best of both worlds and found their way through life the same way we did, but in a different age of technology.  Are you still with me?  Many parents of the sixties and seventies have managed to retain the devout Christian beliefs without interference in a world created for them.  Today parents and their children are being forced to deal with the world our ancestors left behind. 

I think about this a lot because our ancestors, the puritans, were building a world free of all of the things that were causing chaos in other parts of the world.  As time rolled along the sixties generation ushered in the unbelievable world of technology, the one that seemed to take this country by surprise.  Not our governments or military, but to us it was wowing.  I remember when we had to decide to go back to school and learn this new operation of offices or get left behind...  Since then this generation has played the extreme highway game of keeping up with the technical industry.  I remember selling a rather gaudy diamond bracelet to purchase a single strand of pearls and two computers!  How small the world suddenly became and war was on television twenty-four hours per day in vivid color.

Let me not go too far off my course and forget the crux of this visitation.  The parents now have young pre-teens, teens, and young adults to keep up with.  The basic rules of life are changing and that is my great concern with our present generation.  How do parents keep the basics yet live with all of the changes?  Grandparents help, church helps some, extended families reach out more often, the neighborhoods they live in pay closer attention and perhaps the most important is continual encouragement within those basic boundaries.  Choices do create consequences. They always have and always will.  Choose wisely is far more, than just a bumper sticker.  When our ability to grow older and understand the present generation, occurs, if it ever occurs for some of us, then we will relax.  We can throw away the stress pills, laugh louder, smile more often, and enjoy the wonderful people in our lives.  Judgement of others is not a new concept!  From the puritans to the pulpits of today, judgements seem to be steady and continuing. 

Please let us not confuse judgements of living in our world with judgements of faith.  We judge the distance we in a car travel at a particular speed and give the person in the car in front of us plenty of room to make judgements also.  Our faith, the Christian faith that is, will always suffer scrutiny yet we have to remain stable in our faith and not judge others for their disagreement.  Now we come to the purpose of this visit today.

We are not the Holy Spirit and we are not capable of controlling other people or circumstances that are not ours to have.  We can push open every door that we think will work for us but until God’s perfection is applied in the pressure of the push it will not come to fruition. 

Now, I take a deep breath, have a sip of coffee, and relax.  God is in control.  Wow!!!! I keep losing sight of that fact.  My children and grandchildren are my greatest reminders.  When those days of Viet Nam separated our family, I gave up.  I gave my children and everything I had to God.  I told him that I could not fix it, deal with it or even imagine in my mind a way to work all of our problems out.  He took them and gave me a hug.  Well you may find this amusing but it is not when the night is long and you have no idea what is going on with a child or grandchild, so you cannot sleep for mentally trying to fix it.  That is right.  As Christians and as parents we think we can fix it!!!!  All of it!!!  That is when a trip to the carpet with open arms, and face down, I allow God to remind me that he has not given me control and he never will.  That is freedom to know that he is in charge.  I can relax and sleep and work and dream and be happy.  How about you?  Do you need a hug? Sit up from lying on the carpet and wrap your arms around yourself while God’s spirit encloses you in his arms.  That my friend; is a God hug.

Now let’s ask God and our children and grandchildren to forgive us for thinking we had control of God’s decisions.  We can be there and we can love with all of our hearts but we cannot make all of those decisions.  We have to keep trusting them to back away if the door is not opening with God’s force of perfection, and embrace the beautifulness of watching God take us to joyous reunions that we could never provide ourselves; on the carpet.

My friend sent me an email message about Mom’s.  Thank you.  We are truly blessed.  Will life be easy?  No.  Will decisions be difficult? Yes.  Are we in it alone? Never!  Are our children alone? Never!  We can change the consequences of our present actions by choosing well.  We can practice patience, and still hold onto the basics while we live in a world of continual change.

My motto:

·         Remember where you came from.  God created you.

·         Remember who you are.  God’s child with all of his benefits, and never ending hugs.

·         Remember where you are going.  Back to God!

Now everything else is the stuff that life gives us and we give to life.  Always remember to get your God hug!  Don’t have to always ask a friend, since God is the perfect parent.

Daddy Sure Could Pick a Good Dog

Good dogs always lived at our house because Daddy knew how to pick a good dog.  Boy I really thought Daddy could do anything and I expected all Daddys to be that smart, but one day I saw a man lose a dog to a stranger and the dog just ignored his owner.

I asked Daddy, “Why on earth would anyone let their dog go off  like that with a stranger?”

“Well, Ludy,” he said, “Some owner’s don’t treat their dogs too good, but I know that dog was treated real good.  That dog is any man’s dog that’ll hunt him.  All dogs are not good, Sugar.”

Now is probably a good time to go backwards and tell you a little about me and my family and our good dogs.  See, we were poor country people and my earliest remembrance was after Mama and Daddy sold Grandmas’s farm and we moved to the city.  There were seven of us kids at that time and Mama had two more later on making out family nine kids and two parents.  Well Mama was like a kid and Daddy treated her like one.  She never had to whip me (today that would be known as spanking) but when she told Daddy I needed one he took care of business and we knew not to cross Mama.   So, where was I?  Oh yeah, nine of us kids living in the city was a recipe for problems; however this is a story of what I remember first hand as a child and believe you me, there have been many stores told to me that I don’t feel I should share since they aren’t mine.  When the ninth baby was born, he was a puny little thing and lived on mashed bananas but he had a head full of glorious blonde curls that would make any Scotsman proud.  By all that is right, Mama named him after the doctor who saved her and her baby.  Calvin Theo.  Those first years in the city were tough and we had no dog that I remember.  Daddy traveled putting up billboards on the side of the road and one of my finest remembrances was the one when I sat on the curb, every Friday in Meridian, Mississippi waiting for my Daddy to come home.  Thrilling was not the word for how I felt when that old red paneled truck came around the corner and he was finally home.

I was still young enough to be lugged on my older sisters’ hips but old enough not to need diapers because I could walk or run all over the place, and when I couldn’t keep up I was thrown upon a hip. The next remembrance I must share because it was a tale told about me and to me.  My sister, Becky with her bright red curly hair and big blue eyes could scare me almost to death and if she told me something, she would say, “And you better believe it too.”

 I certainly did for many, many years.

She told me, “You were on my hip and I was running around the corner of our brick house and you fell backwards and hit your head on those bricks.  Well I dropped you on the ground and took a screwdriver and bored a hole in your head to pour green stuff in your head, since I had knocked out your brains.  You are not smart because of that, so I will tell me what to do from now on. “

 And she did.

I remember two other things about that period of time in the brick house and one was Daddy’s ability to pick a good dog.  It was cold one night and we young ones were sitting on the floor in front of a heater when Daddy came home.  He opened his jacket and pulled out a tiny little German Shepherd pup that was shaking like crazy.  My brother, Calvin Theo had been born on December the 12^th and you remember he was a puny runt, so Daddy brought Calvin a puppy that the police department did not want, because the pup was a puny runt and would never fit in.  I was four-and-a-half years old and that made perfect sense to me.  I don’t remember who named him but my brother, Lavon adopted that little fellow and we called our dog Bullet.  Well Daddy knew how to pick a good dog because Bullet proved to be the best.

Daddy had a brother living over in Jackson, Mississippi and the brother wanted him to come there too, so off we went to another city not fit for country kids.  There is one thing about our family mixed with Scottish, Irish and Cherokee, and that is not a surprise considering Mississippi had 13 flags that flew over her before Old Glory reigned, so all of this mixture assured everyone that we knew how to have fun. Moving to the big city was ok with us if Daddy said so. Jackson was a tough town when you lived on Gallatin Street. One night we were all asleep when someone decided to steal the gasoline from Daddy’s car and Bullet was on guard that night.  When Daddy heard men screaming and that dog growling just before Ole Bullet came unglued, he took off out the door.  All of that commotion certainly woke us up and he came back in the house holding the fabric from the seat of somebody’s britches that Bullet didn’t care for. If my memory serves me right they did not get the gasoline but we moved to a different neighborhood. 

Bullet became our family hero and we depended on him, especially Mama and Daddy depended on him to watch over us, since kids weren’t allowed to hang out in the house and we spent most of our time outside.  I remember all of that sunshine and good times.  My sister, Mary, used to drag me down the sidewalk to go to a walk-in-theatre on Saturday.  Oh she didn’t have to make me go, but she was saddled with babysitting me and that little girl was always in a hurry.  Well my love for western movies was born in that theatre.  I especially loved Roy Rogers and Dale Evans and most of all, Trigger, but Mary wanted to watch Ester Williams swim so I didn’t always get my way about seeing horses, dogs and cows on the big screen.  Remember I was born in the country and that country was in my blood even though I lived three years in the city.  We had some hard times and I guess that same country ran in Daddy’s blood too because after my sixth birthday we moved to the cotton fields of North East Mississippi to a little community called Van Buren.

We arrived on a cold winter night but that is another story all together.  Bullet was about to get his first taste of country living at its purest.  It seems funny sometimes but he was always around when us four youngest ones were outside.  He stayed between us and danger always so I will share a few of these memorable moments in this story.

Our house was a typical sharecropper’s house with four large rooms, two on each side, a small room on the right for a kitchen, a huge middle hallway, a screened in back porch and a front porch that covered the width of the entire house.  Each room had a significant purpose with no wasted space.  These houses were known as shot-gun style houses.  You could stand on the front porch and shoot all the way through the back.  That was my take on the meaning anyway.  The yard around the house was swept clean of grass so there were no pests to contend with, except a few pesky house flies. I was six-and-a-half by then and Bullet and Calvin were four. There was so much for a four year old dog to discover and learn the hard way, and I can assure you that God watched over that nosy dog and us four kids.  I wore dresses and we all went barefoot, but people started calling us the four boys.  I hated being a girl because that meant I was weak and those boys were strong he-men.  It became second nature for Bullet to be with me when I rambled around the place making me think he was a super dog who took care of all of us at the same time.

Every morning Mama called from the back porch door, “Hey Bullet come and get it.”

He was never very far away and truth be told he was waiting for that yell every morning.