We have this hope as an anchor for the soul, firm and secure. It enters the inner sanctuary behind the curtain, Hebrews 6:19
I don’t know how or when I learned and fell in love with this verse. Which was followed by the tattoo on my wrist.
My July 29 reading in Jesus Calling is about Jesus being “the center of your consciousness, the Anchor of your soul.” An anchor on a short rope lets a boat drift slightly before the taut line tugs the boat back toward the center.
Since I re-read the book annually, I’ve read this day’s story more than once but today, it really made sense.
The more we become aware of His presence, the shorter the rope becomes and the quicker we return to Him. Soon, He’s front and center in our mind.
I was listening to something on the radio a few weeks ago. Likely just two DJs on the radio, but they were talking about the least impressive award they ever received. It was humorous, but I guess you had to be there!
It made me go back in time of course, to two awards I received 4 years apart, that to me were not what I wanted. They both made me feel shame because, although one was done in jest, I didn’t think that way about myself! Bear with me, I’m going into the Way Way Back machine.
Eight grade awards ceremony. Yup, 8th grade. I received an award called, “My Affair Lady” . Did I say this was a catholic school? Two classes for each grade at the time. So yeah, I had a couple of boyfriends that year. There were some tumultuous moments during the year. But did “the committee” really have to put it out there? I think what made it worse was, it was my twin sister and her friend who created the awards. I can still picture the friend really laughing it up. I’m sure I gave a smile and laughed but I felt the jab.
Senior year of high school. Class Superlatives. You know the ones? Best Smile, Cutest, Most Class Spirit. Me? Class Flirt. Wah-wah-wahhhhh. Pattern anyone? The superlatives are voted on by the class but once they reach the yearbook committee, all bets are off. If someone was top two in a category and they were on the committee, they picked which one they wanted, and give second place the other. I don’t sound bitter after 48 years do I? Anyway, yeah, Class Flirt. I guess I didn’t stray far from “My Affair Lady” did I? The male Flirt was someone I knew well, and he IS a shameful flirt. I was not like that, I thought to myself. I’m friendly, I talk to people (only boys evidently). But votes don’t lie right? We had our picture taken and it’s there for all eternity.
Why do I even care? Because I know that events like this affected my identity and self-worth as years went on. I might not have changed my pattern, obviously that was already ingrained, but it colored how I saw myself and what I thought about myself. Past events are going to be carried with you whether you say, “Oh that didn’t bother me at all” or not.
Modern chivalry is defined as “courteous, polite, and gentlemanly behavior, especially a man’s respectful conduct and gestures of goodwill towards women”.
I’m all for chivalry but sometimes someone can take it a little too far. Case in point – I approached the line at the CVS pharmacy to pick up my prescription. There were 3 people in line and the two stations were occupied. An older gentleman was at the end of the line. I asked him if he was in line, and he said yes so I headed behind him. He told me “No” and to go in front of him. The other woman in line laughed because he had told her the same. I encouraged him to go before me, but he wanted none of that.
His response was, “my father would smack me if I didn’t get a woman go first, he taught me chivalry”. The lady in front of me said, “so, I said sure!”. I laughed and said, “and I’m the woman that will tell them absolutely not! You were here first.”
So I went in front of him, picked up my prescription, and left. I didn’t notice whether he was still letting people in front of him, or if he finally got in line.
I’m not opposed to men being courteous, but if think this was going a little too far.
Why is it, after tossing left, right, front and back for 3 hours in the middle of the night, I always manage to be asleep when my alarm goes off?
At some point, those life and death problems I can’t seem to shake are tucked away long enough for me to drift off, only to be startled by the sound coming from my phone.
Saturday morning I was having some BIG emotions. I was deep in Woe-is-me-ville territory. It’s weird how it can hit me.
The day before was great with celebrating our son’s birthday. We went out to dinner and dessert….. and that started me thinking about what food I put into my body that day.
Breakfast might have been a spinach smoothie, ok that’s normal.
I was running late preparing for work, so I didn’t have time to pack a lunch. Hmmm. Husband came by the office and took me out and I had a grilled cheese sandwich and half his French fries. Not normal. I can’t tell you the last time I ate white bread, and since they didn’t ask what kind I wanted, I’ll assume that’s what it was.
I starved my way until dinner, where I had four super thin crust pieces of pizza, followed by a cup of hazelnut gelato, and, when we got home, the Italian Eclair topped with vanilla and chocolate cream that I purchased as a treat. I ate that around 7:30pm.
Hmmm. Lots of “bready” stuff, rich dessert past my dinner time followed by sitting on the couch. No alcohol though!
I’m beginning to understand the reason for my mood. It was a food hangover.
I snapped at my husband when he came to give me some comfort, accused him of patronizing me but I was quickly able to turn that around and just tell him I didn’t know what the he** was going on, and thanked him for being there for me.
We went out for a little retail therapy after lunch – book store (“The Calamity Club” for my book club), Marshalls (shower cap while looking for a water infuser), and Michael’s (some yarn for a scarf).
I’m now in the land of All’s-right-with-the-world and boy, it feels good!
Me and my best guy
It’s crazy how what I consume can affect my mood. Do you notice the same when you have too much of something you don’t normally eat?
Yesterday was my son’s 36th birthday. It feels so momentous to have a child that old. Of course it makes me think back to what I was doing when I was 36.
I was raising a 6 year old who had just finished up kindergarten. I was working a job I hated, at a company I loved. We had passed the one year anniversary of our move from California back to purchase my childhood home in Connecticut. My father lived with us for five years after that. My mother-in-law was diagnosed with cancer that April and in the next month, my husband would travel back to California to visit her one last time.
My son was loving life in 1996, oblivious, I hope, to the turmoil around him. He was spending days at the YMCA camp along with after camp care until one of us picked him up. He spent some Fridays with a friend’s family at a favorite Rhode Island beach. Most weekends were spent at my sister’s in-law’s pool with the rest of his cousins by marriage.
It was a time of trying to make everyone happy. Appease everyone. Get to work, don’t fuck up, don’t get sick because then someone had to do my job. Make sure no one felt slighted or offended by any choices I made. I didn’t have that living in California, but I had it in aces here.
It did smooth out and get better. I left that job and found another closer to home with better hours, and better pay. I adjusted to life in the family fold while creating my own life with my own family.
My husband and I wrote letters to each other from May until September in 1987. We met in early May, went home to our separate coasts, visited twice, and I moved to California five months after we left.
I don’t think I’ve ever re-read the letters, just carried them around from house to house, and took them on another cross country move.
I read them all again the other day. Wow. Talk about some in-depth thoughts and dreams. Mine, of course. His letters were sometimes a half of a page. But they talked of our visits, and our day to day lives.
I look at my husband now and I fall in love with him all over again.
Some of my favorite flowers – I love the way they change color
I call myself a Realist which is defined as “someone who recognizes and accepts situations as they actually are, dealing with them in a practical and objective manner.” But what happens, when that Realist never looks at the good that happens? They’re always working in the next situation, “dealing with it in a practical and objective manner”? Like Sisyphus pushing that rock up a hill over and over. Did they get to stop and say “hey! Good job!”
The other day, a blog I look forward to reading every day, Waking Up on the Wrong Side of 50, celebrated her mini goals, big and small, and I know this is something I need to do for myself.
Though I don’t have any specific goals, her post made me realize, I need to reflect, recognize and celebrate the big and small events of the day.
I got through my day, recognizing and accepting situations, dealing with them in a practical and objective manner. Sometimes with a lot of loud, choice words, but I get through it. And then I get up and do it again, and again and again. Never stopping to think, “hey, that was a good thing that happened here”.
I had a really amazing summer vacation in June. My husband and I drove to Nashville, Tennessee to meet up with cousins flying in from Washington State. We have visited with them many times and enjoy their company. The driving trip brought back memories of our trip across the country in 1995. I already talked about that here.
AntietamOur first timeDinner in AshevilleGreat MillSmokies overlookAlum Cave
We spent four days driving there with three overnights in Hagerstown MD, Asheville NC, and Gatlinburg TN.
We stayed in an air bnb just a few blocks from Broadway and really got to see the city with the Hop On, Hop Off trolley, and a lot of walking! The food was amazing, and sunsets from the pedestrian bridge across the Cumberland River were so beautiful.
NashvilleThe RymanSunset on the Cumberland
We parted ways with one couple on Wednesday and we and the other couple headed to Memphis to listen to the music and visit Graceland. Memphis is much different than Nashville but I enjoyed the atmosphere and the music. The food was very good there too!
Beale StreetGraceland Tour
We headed home on Friday and initially wondered if we’d be able to make it home by Saturday evening. It was no problem getting to Roanoke VA and pulling into our driveway on Saturday evening. It was no surprise that the only accident delay we encountered was at the very end about a half hour from home!
We enjoyed the trip and would like to get back down to the Maryland area to scout out more battlefields, and are thinking of other places to go that allow us to drive and sightsee.
Thoughts From The Passenger Seat 