Being in a large family is like living out in the world. For example, in a large family you don’t always get a name; you get a number. (I’m number six.) You don’t always get what you want. Sometimes you have to wear what someone has already worn. (Like buying a previously owned home.)
The teachers always ask, “You are so and so’s little brother or sister.” She thinks she knows how you will act. (Like in the world opinions are formed on where you come from.)
And when the oldest one leaves home to go to college, the others fight for the bedroom like people who fight for land. Also, when one leaves home, the things you leave behind are at risk. The aquarium might disappear from the table in the corner of your bedroom. Your posters might also be taken down. (You abandon a place and transients might take over.)
And when you return for Thanksgiving vacation and you take your problem to your mother, you may not get a welcome answer. (Like the United Nations who doesn’t know what to do with a country, errant or not.)
Yes indeed, living in a large robust family and trying to get along while learning to compromise is very much like adults living in the larger world. We have to get along, sometimes look the other way, and visit with one another from time to time.
Thursday, April 22, 2010
Wednesday, March 24, 2010
Caution: Under Construction
Years ago in a Vacation Bible School I heard small children sing a song, “Kids Under Construction”, a song in which they asked folks not to judge them for they were still in the process of becoming. They were kids under construction.
All of us are in the process of becoming. The amazing fact about this theory is that a young man and young woman choose each other as life partners, perhaps in their twenties, and are far from being that which they will become.
We are all under construction because a variety of outside influences affect us: death, unexpected money, children with problems, difficult jobs, etc. If both parties don’t recognize the outside influences and work to deal with them, death to the marriage occurs.
In one marriage between two folks deeply in love the wife studied to better herself. He refused to improve himself thinking he was fine as he was. Kaput went that marriage.
There was another marriage in which the wife became a high-earning realtor while the husband stayed behind and did not keep up with her either in ambition or in earning power. The marriage failed.
And yet, some of these young folks who commit do, in fact, grow into different beings and manage to stay together.
There is the young woman who began studying art and became a good artist thereby surprising her husband and friends. The husband appreciated her efforts, supported her emotionally and kept up with her intellectual growth.
In some marriages one of the parties develops a love of politics. It appears that suddenly one is catapulted on to the political scene. Quite a test, and yet some master the problems associated with a spouse holding public office, and they stay together in spite of the challenges. An accomplishment.
Yes, we are all still under construction.
All of us are in the process of becoming. The amazing fact about this theory is that a young man and young woman choose each other as life partners, perhaps in their twenties, and are far from being that which they will become.
We are all under construction because a variety of outside influences affect us: death, unexpected money, children with problems, difficult jobs, etc. If both parties don’t recognize the outside influences and work to deal with them, death to the marriage occurs.
In one marriage between two folks deeply in love the wife studied to better herself. He refused to improve himself thinking he was fine as he was. Kaput went that marriage.
There was another marriage in which the wife became a high-earning realtor while the husband stayed behind and did not keep up with her either in ambition or in earning power. The marriage failed.
And yet, some of these young folks who commit do, in fact, grow into different beings and manage to stay together.
There is the young woman who began studying art and became a good artist thereby surprising her husband and friends. The husband appreciated her efforts, supported her emotionally and kept up with her intellectual growth.
In some marriages one of the parties develops a love of politics. It appears that suddenly one is catapulted on to the political scene. Quite a test, and yet some master the problems associated with a spouse holding public office, and they stay together in spite of the challenges. An accomplishment.
Yes, we are all still under construction.
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
Compromise
The “C” word, compromise, is sometimes used to connote a lowering of one’s values. The meaning of the word in this context means that you might have abandoned your beliefs or values by agreeing to do something you would not ordinarily do.
The word, compromise, need not be an undesirable word. A situation in which two parties compromise or agree on an issue may well be a win-win: a result in which both parties can end up happy.
Compromise can be a successful strategy you may utilize in a variety of relationships: Mother-child; wife-husband; teacher-student; friend-friend; etc. A domineering member of a relationship coupled with a compliant party is doomed. Sooner or later the passive partner is going to abandon the relationship or be filled with bitterness from having been trampled over.
Even children realize when they have no input in a situation. Naturally some issues are non-negotiable. A small child cannot under any circumstances be allowed to cross the street alone. But a small child can be given a choice of this cereal or that cereal, this cookie or that cookie. Would a parent have an undesirable cereal or cookie in the home anyway? He has input into the decision and he gains self worth. The “do it because I said so” can’t be enforced all the time without some negative result.
In dealing with one another and attempting to make sure both parties agree to an issue, respect is the premise from which one works. Respecting a person is considering another person's feelings. And respect, as we all know, is something we appreciate from one another.
The word, compromise, need not be an undesirable word. A situation in which two parties compromise or agree on an issue may well be a win-win: a result in which both parties can end up happy.
Compromise can be a successful strategy you may utilize in a variety of relationships: Mother-child; wife-husband; teacher-student; friend-friend; etc. A domineering member of a relationship coupled with a compliant party is doomed. Sooner or later the passive partner is going to abandon the relationship or be filled with bitterness from having been trampled over.
Even children realize when they have no input in a situation. Naturally some issues are non-negotiable. A small child cannot under any circumstances be allowed to cross the street alone. But a small child can be given a choice of this cereal or that cereal, this cookie or that cookie. Would a parent have an undesirable cereal or cookie in the home anyway? He has input into the decision and he gains self worth. The “do it because I said so” can’t be enforced all the time without some negative result.
In dealing with one another and attempting to make sure both parties agree to an issue, respect is the premise from which one works. Respecting a person is considering another person's feelings. And respect, as we all know, is something we appreciate from one another.
Thursday, March 11, 2010
Hobby
A hobby is a wonderful thing to have. You give yourself time to study in depth a particular area perhaps totally unknown to you. You read about it and look up pictures for additional information. You study it and finally you take the first step.
That is how I learned to knit. I was in a new city and knew very few people. I had always heard of knitting but it looked complicated. Well now I had time to tackle something that required time and study. I bought a book, knitting needles and yarn. And I stumbled and fell and tried again and failed again. But I never gave up. I discussed it with friends who knew more than I did. And I practiced some more, and I mastered it.
What this hobby gave me was information I did not possess. It also enabled me to meet people whom I might never have met, for we spoke a common language: knitting. I made gifts of some of my knitting. I did it for pleasure and also with purpose. I knitted while watching television, and on an airplane and in a hospital. My knitting started conversations, and I answered questions.
It opened another road in my life and it has fulfilled me in so many ways. Pursuing a new hobby is much like the famous line from Robert Frost’s Poem, The Road Not Taken, “Two roads diverged in a wood, and I –I took the one less traveled by, and that has made all the difference.”
That is how I learned to knit. I was in a new city and knew very few people. I had always heard of knitting but it looked complicated. Well now I had time to tackle something that required time and study. I bought a book, knitting needles and yarn. And I stumbled and fell and tried again and failed again. But I never gave up. I discussed it with friends who knew more than I did. And I practiced some more, and I mastered it.
What this hobby gave me was information I did not possess. It also enabled me to meet people whom I might never have met, for we spoke a common language: knitting. I made gifts of some of my knitting. I did it for pleasure and also with purpose. I knitted while watching television, and on an airplane and in a hospital. My knitting started conversations, and I answered questions.
It opened another road in my life and it has fulfilled me in so many ways. Pursuing a new hobby is much like the famous line from Robert Frost’s Poem, The Road Not Taken, “Two roads diverged in a wood, and I –I took the one less traveled by, and that has made all the difference.”
Wednesday, March 10, 2010
Help
Our family lived on Main Street in a small town in Central Texas. Highway 6 took Baylor fans east to A&M to see the two teams as they played football. The next year the Aggie fans drove west to see the Aggies and the Bears engage in a football game.
Sometimes we sat on the front porch and just watched the traffic, large trucks taking farm workers from S. Texas to West Texas. Other times we saw Greyhound or Continental buses drive by loaded with folks, and we wondered what their stories were.
One day there was a knock on the front door. One of my brothers and I ran to see who it was. We left the screen door latched as the man spoke to us. "Tell your momma I am hungry. See if she can give me something to eat." We closed the door and went to give Mama the message.
She spoke to the man and told him to wait. Then she returned with some food and handed it to him. "God bless you," he told her. The man walked off. My brother said, "Did you notice his shoes were held together with baling wire?" I said, "And his hat had a piece taken out of it, like a bite? And his face was dirty. His belt had lots of holes in it like he had to move it over and over to get it to fit." "Maybe he lost weight." My brother added.
Mother spoke to us both, "When you see a person who is hungry, feed him, for it might be Jesus Christ you are feeding." We looked at her. We knew what Jesus looked like for she had pictures on her altar and the Catholic Church had Jesus on a cross. It didn't make sense.
She read our minds. "And Jesus may not look like you think he does. Just remember to feed a person when he asks you for food. You will make Jesus happy."
"Inasmuch as you have done it unto one of the least of these, my brethren, ye have done it unto Me." Matthew 25:40
(originally published in Lenten Booklet at Parkway Presbyterian Church 3-3-10)
Sometimes we sat on the front porch and just watched the traffic, large trucks taking farm workers from S. Texas to West Texas. Other times we saw Greyhound or Continental buses drive by loaded with folks, and we wondered what their stories were.
One day there was a knock on the front door. One of my brothers and I ran to see who it was. We left the screen door latched as the man spoke to us. "Tell your momma I am hungry. See if she can give me something to eat." We closed the door and went to give Mama the message.
She spoke to the man and told him to wait. Then she returned with some food and handed it to him. "God bless you," he told her. The man walked off. My brother said, "Did you notice his shoes were held together with baling wire?" I said, "And his hat had a piece taken out of it, like a bite? And his face was dirty. His belt had lots of holes in it like he had to move it over and over to get it to fit." "Maybe he lost weight." My brother added.
Mother spoke to us both, "When you see a person who is hungry, feed him, for it might be Jesus Christ you are feeding." We looked at her. We knew what Jesus looked like for she had pictures on her altar and the Catholic Church had Jesus on a cross. It didn't make sense.
She read our minds. "And Jesus may not look like you think he does. Just remember to feed a person when he asks you for food. You will make Jesus happy."
"Inasmuch as you have done it unto one of the least of these, my brethren, ye have done it unto Me." Matthew 25:40
(originally published in Lenten Booklet at Parkway Presbyterian Church 3-3-10)
Monday, February 22, 2010
The Death of a Hero
I just received the news. A hero has passed on…quietly and modestly, as he lived, a believer in God. A hero for us all.
Early on the morning of June 6, 1944 Roberto Martinez, a paratrooper from the 101st Airborne Division, with painted black marks under his eyes, climbed aboard a plane in England. In the dark morning as the airplane took him over the English Channel and into Normandy the Germans opened fire. “It was like Christmas with lights all over the place,” he said. The airplane kept flying until the men jumped out, one after another after another after another. Finally, it was Roberto’s turn.
“I tried to hide my parachute after I jumped. Everything was dark because they dropped us in the early hours and before the landings were to begin. I couldn’t find my cricket, that funny sounding thing that was to be used by the paratroopers to signal one another, but someone approached me and I heard his cricket.”
The invasion of France had just begun. Roberto Martinez along with all the other thousands of Americans began their heroic effort. And now his life’s journey has ended. May he and all the other heroes who kept this country safe from dictators not be forgotten.
Early on the morning of June 6, 1944 Roberto Martinez, a paratrooper from the 101st Airborne Division, with painted black marks under his eyes, climbed aboard a plane in England. In the dark morning as the airplane took him over the English Channel and into Normandy the Germans opened fire. “It was like Christmas with lights all over the place,” he said. The airplane kept flying until the men jumped out, one after another after another after another. Finally, it was Roberto’s turn.
“I tried to hide my parachute after I jumped. Everything was dark because they dropped us in the early hours and before the landings were to begin. I couldn’t find my cricket, that funny sounding thing that was to be used by the paratroopers to signal one another, but someone approached me and I heard his cricket.”
The invasion of France had just begun. Roberto Martinez along with all the other thousands of Americans began their heroic effort. And now his life’s journey has ended. May he and all the other heroes who kept this country safe from dictators not be forgotten.
A Buried Memory Rises to the Surface
A few years back I attended a school reunion. Since we attended a small school, students from various years of graduating classes comprised the attendees at the reunion. Among the attendants was a successful businessman. He pulled me aside to tell me a story.
“When I was in the first or second grade I went to school one day and some bullies jumped me. They were older and bigger, and they began to beat me up. After I was on the ground at their mercy, an older boy came by and seeing what was happening, told the mean boys to leave me alone. They walked off. I was so relieved and happy and still a bit scared. Well, we all grew up, including the bullies, and boy who made the mean guys get off me. I don’t think I said anything to the boy who saved me, but I never forgot the moment. One day I found him on the internet and I emailed him and finally, after about fifty years, I thanked him for saving me from that ordeal.”
I wondered why he was telling me the story. It was an incident I saw happen often as we waited for the school to let us in. I was a girl and was never bothered, but boys did fight and scuffle.
Then the businessman said, “The boy who saved me was your brother William. I finally thanked him properly.”
It was a wonderful reunion, a memorable one. A flower bloomed and thanks were given
“When I was in the first or second grade I went to school one day and some bullies jumped me. They were older and bigger, and they began to beat me up. After I was on the ground at their mercy, an older boy came by and seeing what was happening, told the mean boys to leave me alone. They walked off. I was so relieved and happy and still a bit scared. Well, we all grew up, including the bullies, and boy who made the mean guys get off me. I don’t think I said anything to the boy who saved me, but I never forgot the moment. One day I found him on the internet and I emailed him and finally, after about fifty years, I thanked him for saving me from that ordeal.”
I wondered why he was telling me the story. It was an incident I saw happen often as we waited for the school to let us in. I was a girl and was never bothered, but boys did fight and scuffle.
Then the businessman said, “The boy who saved me was your brother William. I finally thanked him properly.”
It was a wonderful reunion, a memorable one. A flower bloomed and thanks were given
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