No Shortcuts

It’s all about shortcuts.

The election, the news coverage of the candidates, and the candidates themselves. It’s all about taking shortcuts.

News organizations of all kinds decide to toss up a big story to increase their ratings, clicks or newsstand sales without taking the long way around and checking the details, putting it all in context, or giving the historical perspective on the issues. They take a shortcut for the sake of their wallets.

We, the audience, read the news headlines without taking the time to read a story and weigh what it says, weeding out the biases or the illogical conclusions and considering the history of where we’ve come from or the history we want to leave behind for our children.

And let’s look at the candidates themselves.

Hillary takes no shortcuts. She does the research, digging down into the details that determine what makes life better for people who cannot fight for themselves. She allows herself to see the challenges and difficulties faced by the underprivileged and feels empathy for them. She takes on their challenges and works hard to find solutions, whether this work gets headlines or not. This is a way of life for her and always has been.

Donald has always taken shortcuts. It appears he has no understanding of the difficulties faced by others, as demonstrated by the way he repeatedly refuses to pay people who have done work for him, by the way he preys on women, by the way he dodges taxes that are needed to fund programs that help millions of people and then brags about it all. He cares only for himself and his own publicity. He prefers acting on instinct, which means he does not want to do the research and preparation required for a debate, nevermind for the office he seeks. He seems to have no understanding of how much more would be required of him if he occupied the Oval Office.

Some will say Hillary has taken shortcuts by using her own email server or by being less than fully transparent when answering questions from the media. Personally, I’d rather have a president who can admit mistakes and learns from them than one who thinks he’s never done anything wrong.

There are no shortcuts for my family now. My husband has cancer.

We have to take every slow and painful step along this road, celebrate the victories when they come and pick ourselves up and keep going when they don't. Every decision I make, whether it’s regarding his care, household chores or financial responsibilities I ask myself, “If I take this next step, where will we end up?”

As a country, we need to ask ourselves, “If we take this step, where will we end up?”

Consider how you’re voting.

Where does that path lead?

Is it a shortcut or is it a path toward real and lasting solutions?

Christmas Ideals

It had to be Scotch Pine.

No spindly Spruce or Fir for us with their short needles. We always always got a Scotch Pine.

Long needles filled in the space between the branches so you could hardly see through the middle of the tree to the other side. Perfect for poking your hand when reaching to hang an ornament or crawling up under it to give it a drink of water. Those Scotch Pine needles could last well into Spring as we continued to find strays that had been missed by our rocket-shaped Electrolux canister vacuum cleaner.

After Thanksgiving we saw Christmas trees bundled and lined up in front of the 7-11. Tree lots popped up in vacant spaces along the highway. We might visit two or three places but often found ours at Wolfe Nursery. I breathed deeply, taking in as much of the woodsy scent as I could, running up and down the long aisles looking for one that wasn't too tall or too short or too crooked. Eventually, a winner was declared and carefully tied down in the trunk of our car for the trip to its new home.

Everybody had something to do because getting ready for Christmas was a big job. First, the bench had to be moved from its place at the living room's big picture window and put in the kitchen in front of the sliding glass door that led to the backyard. Then Daddy took down his big saw from the garage wall to take a little off the bottom of the tree so it could take in water and stay moist and green until Christmas was over. Getting the tree centered and fastened tightly into its stand was a group effort. Daddy held the trunk while Mother and Debbie told him which way to tilt it, and David and I crawled underneath to tighten the screws that held it in place.

Next, time to untangle the lights. Big red and green bulbs, some with star-shaped plastic reflectors. Our little blue and white record player sat on the bench in the kitchen playing Firestone Christmas records while we decorated the tree. Ornaments were sorted and hooks were ready and waiting. Icicles went on last. They took a long time if you did them properly, adding one at a time instead of throwing them on by handfuls.

White fluffy stuff that looked like sparkly snow was spread out on top of the piano. The nativity set went there when I was little. Later, I helped Mother fold magazines that were spray painted red, and Daddy drew faces for styrofoam heads and those choir dolls sang faithfully from the piano every year. (I still have them.)

Candles were set in their places throughout the house. At each end of the piano, on the coffee table and in each bathroom. Bayberry, cinnamon, sandalwood and sometimes vanilla or pine. When I was old enough, I got to light them. In the middle of the kitchen table, on either side of a little pink poinsettia Christmas tree, Mother put tall white candles that dripped all different colors. I watched them during supper to see which color would drip down next.

The front door got special attention, too. Daddy even changed the porch light to a spotlight to show it off for the neighborhood. One year we wrapped it all in bright red foil paper and made it look like a giant Christmas present. Another year, he made a big sign that said "Merry Christmas from the Dillards".

At some point in the process someone reached deep into the front closet to pull out a stack of the Christmas Ideals magazines that Aunt Fiesty sent every year and put them on the coffee table. I'd read each one and travel to mythical places where Christmas came with snow and children hung their stockings on real fireplaces and got sleds and puppies and kittens on Christmas morning.

Now, we're ready for Santa. Or the relatives, whichever comes first....

My mother, Marah Dillard, with our Scotch Pine tree, Christmas 1972

A Blue Teddy Bear

A few months ago I got a message on Etsy from someone who was looking for a blue teddy bear. Alyssa said she worked for an online retailer that likes to go above and beyond for their customers. She and her team had searched for months trying to find a very special blue teddy bear like the one that had been lost by a little boy with autism. The boy's mother had tried to replace it with something similar but it just wasn't quite the same. They hadn't been able to locate it anywhere and now Alyssa wondered if I could make one like it.

I could tell from the photo she sent that it was very different from the teddy bears I make but I said I wanted to help and I'd be glad to look around and see if I could find another Etsy artist who could make one. I started right away and after finding some similar handmade bears I remembered I'd seen many of the toys my daughters grew up with listed on eBay so I decided to look there. I thought I might at least find a similar one that would tell me what company had made it.

After some searching... there it was. It looked exactly like the bear in the photo. Same blue fur, same floppy look, same pink nose... it was the same bear.

I sent the link to the teddy bear to Alyssa and she was ecstatic! She said, "You have my entire team in awe! We have been searching for at least two months! Thank you for the bottom of my heart! Can I please have your email address I would love to send you and your family some Zappos.com friends and family coupons. Thank you, thank you, thank you, a million times more!!!"

Oh, that online retailer!


What they didn't know was that I'd just begun searching for a job for the first time in decades and had been feeling pretty down about my prospects. It made me feel really good to know that I had made a difference for Alyssa and her team and especially for that little boy.


A few days later I heard from Alyssa again. The blue teddy bear had arrived and it was perfect! They had decided to tell the story of how this had all come together for their customer and since I was a big part of it, they wanted to include me. Would I be interested in allowing someone to come to my home for a video interview?

Well, why not?

So, besides my new friend, Alyssa, I now have a new friend, Sara, who came to my home to ask about what I do and how I ended up finding a very special blue teddy bear for a very special boy.


I guess Zappos.com knows what I know from selling on Etsy. It's not just Customer Service. It's a relationship.

Sheeba

I first met Sheeba when I stopped by the office at the SPCA of Anne Arundel County. Sheeba was Rita Melvin’s office cat for the day and she greeted me with joyous meows at the safety gate in the door. As I stepped back to let Rita move the gate, Sheeba protested loudly and took a flying leap up to my shoulder as if to say, “Oh, no! You’re not leaving yet! You just got here!”

I spent the next hour or so talking over volunteer possibilities with Rita while Sheeba did figure eights in my lap so I could do a thorough job of petting her on all sides. Sheeba was as busy and playful as a kitten so I was surprised to hear that she is over ten years old . She purred and meowed and made little noises of satisfaction and I’m pretty sure she thought I had come just to see her.

Shelter cats get as much loving as our cat caretakers and volunteers can give them but it’s never as much as if they had their own family in a forever home.

Sheeba was recently moved to a foster home from the shelter, where she's been since May of last year. Foster families provide a place for animals who need a quiet place to recover from illness or surgery or who just need a little extra attention and a break from shelter life.

I went to see Sheeba recently in her foster home so I could take a few photos and share her story. When I first arrived she came running to see who had come to visit. I think she remembered me, but she was a little shy at first, probably wondering what I was doing there. She is definitely a curious cat.

It didn't take her long to get used to the sound of my camera's shutter and relax. (I think she was trying to figure out why my hands were busy with that clicking box I was holding instead of busy petting her!)

Sheeba loves that big bay window at her foster home, running to see what's up when she hears a car go by then staying just to soak up the sun.

She has her own special perch in front of another window that lets her keep watch over the squirrels in the backyard, too.

By now, Sheeba is accustomed to having me follow her around and point my funny little clicking black box at her. Maybe she realizes I'm taking her picture because it seems like she's started posing for me.

When she's had enough of solitary posing, Sheeba decides it's time to jump into her foster mom's lap for some hands on attention in a cozy chair. That means a lot to a cat at any age but especially to an older cat like Sheeba. 

I hope this lady with the heart of a kitten finds her forever home soon. If you're interested in adopting Sheeba or becoming a foster family, please call the SPCA of Anne Arundel County at 410-268-4388 or check out our website. So many like Sheeba would love to hear from you.

You can see more photos of Sheeba in my Flickr album.

Wellness

I haven’t written much for this blog lately. The fact is that for the past few months I’ve been in an emotional (and sometimes spiritual) survival mode.

It was almost a year ago that my husband’s car was totaled by a loose highway reflector bracket that flew up into his front grill and spiraled it’s way through the length of the car, flattening a tire and popping open the trunk as it exited out the back. It was only a 1997 Skylark, but it had belonged to his mother, then came to us when she died a few years ago. After a few months and lots of red tape we did get a settlement from the state highway department but it wasn’t enough to replace it. Thankfully, some very generous friends gave us the key to an extra car of theirs and said, “Keep it as long as you need it.” There is a God.

Last fall we hit a crisis point with our bank and are still scrambling to make arrangements to pay what we owe so we can keep our house and deal with other creditors, too. That’s what happens when you spend a few years losing a job or two and your insurance premiums keep going up until they drop you and the “good” car needs repairing and you have to have glasses so you can see to do your job and… well, I’ll spare you the details.

Last fall I also had to have eye surgery. It was just a routine exam for new glasses when the problem was discovered. Mine was not the kind of laser surgery that fixes you up good as new in a day or two, this was the kind that takes a few months to heal, limiting your ability to function well in the meantime. I’m grateful I had wonderful doctors and other medical professionals and insurance to pay for them, plus a husband and daughter at home to look after me.

I was almost back to normal when I got sick on Christmas Day. It started with a cough and quickly went into a sinus infection, as little sniffles tend to do with me. From the description of other friends who got the flu and were left with a lingering cough, I’m guessing that’s what started it all. And just to remind me that I’m only a frail little human, bronchitis set in for another week or two for the big finish.

Today, I’m feeling like myself again. Finally.

Mind you, I’m well aware that these challenges we’ve been facing are a drop in the bucket compared to a cancer diagnosis or the death of a spouse. But I confess that as these issues piled up I waffled from a fierce determination to overcome them all to facing my own helplessness and just trying to hang on for another day.

If I have spoken to you at all during the past few months, please know that every smile, every friendly wave, every “I’m praying for you” - whether in person or over the internet - has been tucked away in my back pocket and carefully saved, to be taken out again and again as needed to shed a little light on a particularly dark day.

Thank you.

In October of last year, when I was feeling especially powerless to change my situation, I decided to volunteer at the the Anne Arundel County SPCA. I needed to spend a little time with animals who have always calmed and comforted me. During a time when I felt like nothing I did was making a difference I thought I could at least make the day a little better for the homeless animals cared for by the SPCA by giving them a little time and attention. It’s amazing how a few purrs and tail wags can change your whole perspective on life and teach you something about God and Grace.

A couple of weeks ago I took pictures of an Animal Wellness Event at the SPCA where several volunteers use their skills and training in Reiki, massage and other healing touch modalities to benefit the animals who may be stressed or having trouble adjusting to shelter life. It was the first time in quite a while that I’d covered an event, though I used to do it frequently years ago. It felt good to get back into the groove and stretch those old muscles of observation and storytelling. At the end of the evening when I started to gather my things and drive home I found Pebbles Cuddles, our official office cat, curled up for a nap on my coat. I think I’ve been accepted into the family.

Thank you, God, for your grace.

Thank you, family and friends, for your love and support.

And a special thank you to Pebbles Cuddles and the Anne Arundel County SPCA.

Teddy Bears For Mike

This is the story of some very special custom handmade teddy bears that I made for my friend, Lori. When Lori's brother passed away suddenly last year she asked if I could make some of my custom teddy bears out of his old t-shirts as memorial gifts to all of his siblings, nieces and nephews. I told her I would be honored. 

It took me about six months to make fourteen teddy bears. It's a big family. Fortunately, I had a few months to get them all done.

Lori lives in Alberta, Canada and I live in Maryland, so we had to do all this long distance. Lori picked out the first t-shirt I would use and mailed it to me. It had a big beautiful dragon on it and I saw lots of possibilites for the bears. We met via Skype so I could show her how my pattern pieces could be placed so that different parts of the design ended up on different parts of the bears. A few hours later I had a pile of tiny t-shirt scraps and nine stacks of teddy-bears-to-be and I got busy sewing.

I took photos of each teddy bear in progress and shared them on Instagram and Twitter so my friends could keep track of the story of this family of bears as I went along. 

Hint: If you're planning to do a lot of hand sewing, take care of your hands. Keep your favorite lotion nearby. And I highly recommend leather thimbles.

When I was close to finishing the first nine bears Lori sent me another shirt for the remaining five bears, a white shirt with an argyle pattern and an interesting texture. Again, I had fun choosing which parts of the design would end up on what parts of the bears. 

All fourteen teddy bears were completed and delivered in time for Lori to distribute them at the Brown Family Reunion last month. She lined them all up on a bed and brought everyone in to see them and choose the one they wanted to keep. Lori says, "Losing Mike was devastating to our family, and missing him is part of every day. Having a small piece of him to hold onto, with these beautiful bears, is a comfort.... The bears are another way to heal our broken hearts." 

You can go to my Flickr gallery of Mike's Teddy Bears and see a photo journal of this project with views of the teddy bears in progress and all four sides of each finished bear. 

Find more custom teddy bears in my Etsy shop 

and let me know if you have a special project you'd like me to make for you.

I Need More Practice

My sister and I have a challenge going to write something, every day, for ten minutes. Here's mine from yesterday....

Since I have only ten minutes left in the day, I guess I’ll do my daily ten minutes of writing now.

Last night was the wrong night to have a bad case of insomnia as I had to roll out of bed and get to the church on time this morning to set up audio and video for the closing program of Vacation Bible School. It was also the wrong week for my bad back to flare up but fortunately, I took my daughter with me to help with any heavy lifting and/or fetch me my ice pack, whichever came first. During a break in the action we enjoyed visiting with a young man who had grown up with my daughter in our church and is now a student at Baylor and member of the Baylor Religious Hour Choir. That prompted me to tell him a few of my dad’s favorite stories of his student days at Baylor and impress on him the need to take that little drive from Waco to Belton to meet my father who would be delighted to meet one of the the current generation of Baylor ministerial students and share more memories with him.

The VBS program went off without a hitch. The ibuprofen kicked in about halfway through the morning and exercise seemed to help loosen up my stiff back.

I made it to 5pm before I fizzled, gave up the fight, and took a little nap before supper. That reminded me of the way my mother used to take naps. She’d come in from work and say, “I’m going to just lie down for ten minutes before I start cooking supper.” I used to wonder how much good ten minutes could really do. After all, it usually took me at least a half hour just to fall asleep. But she would fall asleep, sometimes not even disturbed by the phone ringing next to her bed. Then exactly ten minutes later she would emerge, fresh as a daisy, and dive into dinner preparations.

My mother… the original power napper.

Before I got to my power nap today I had edited video of the VBS program so it could be uploaded to youtube later… added a few rows of knots to my current macrame project… did a little computer research during lunch… and scanned an estimate of car repairs to be submitted to the state in hopes they might still decide to help with the costs incurred when one of their highway reflectors took a flying leap into the grill of my husband’s car and traveled through the air conditioner, transmission and oil pan, taking out a tire and popping open the trunk as it exited out the back.

My power nap took an hour. 

That’s almost as much sleep as I got last night. 

I think I need more practice.

How Much Do You Know?

I was once asked, “Do you know a lot about computers?”

I didn’t know how to answer that question. I know what I know, but I’ve just picked up my knowledge little by little as I was faced with particular situations. I never took a course in Computer Science or Information Technology. When I was in school those subjects were part of the Math Department which I avoided like the plague because, really, Math and I don’t get along very well.

So the best answer to that question is, “I know enough to know that there’s a lot I don’t know.”

Each time I’m faced with a new computer mystery I search online for an answer but a part of me is always wondering if there’s one thing I left out. Just one little thing about that component or software glitch that I didn’t realize might come into play so I didn’t bother combing online forums to see if anybody else had been tripped up by that, too, when they tried to fix this one little thing that’s gone wrong with my computer.

That kind of thinking can lead to a Technology-Paranoia-induced paralysis which results in multiple Windows computers in varying stages of assembly filling up the floor of my living room while I use the one Mac in the room to continue with my usual work as a writer/photographer/artist or whatever I’m calling myself this week.

These techno-DIY projects have taught me some lessons about life and God....

1. I know enough to know that there’s a lot I don’t know.

I grew up in a Southern Baptist home and most of my life has been spent around people who were very sure of their beliefs and their particular interpretation of Scripture. The more time I’ve spent around people whose beliefs differed from mine, the more I could see God relating to people in different ways. I could not deny the Fruits of the Spirit I saw in their lives but I knew they’d never walked down the aisle of a Baptist church or been baptized by immersion as I was. I know it’s possible to share my interpretation of Scripture with them and listen to theirs without either of us feeling threatened or judged. How about that? I don’t know why God relates to each of us the way he does. That’s just one of the things I don’t know yet.

2. You get what you pay for… or … You get out of it what you put into it.

The more time I spend reading about computers, taking them apart and putting them back together, talking to other people who know about computers, the more confident I am in my knowledge of them. The more time I spend focusing on the spiritual side of life, listening for a word from God, looking for Him in others, the more aware I am of my place in the universe and of God’s love for me.

I used to work with a young man in the seminary Print Shop and now and then forgetful professors would come to him with a big rush job, begging him to run copies immediately. He’d look at them with a slow smile and say, “How much is it worth to you?”

So, how much is it worth to you to really know what you want to know?

3. Stick with what works best for you.

My husband and I bought the original Macintosh when it came out in 1984 and used it for years until an upgrade was needed and it was clear that we would not be able to afford Apple’s pricey machines, even if they were worth every penny. We’ve been PC users, exclusively, until my daughter gave me her old iMac. I’ve only been using this  iMac for a few months but I have to admit, I do love it. I’m sure I’ll always keep a PC around for things I have to do with PC-only apps but I’m hoping to stay with Macs from now on.

The lesson I take from this is that it’s important to know what works for you and go with that, whether it’s what you expected or not. 

When I was growing up I expected that I would remain Southern Baptist all my life but things changed. The denomination took a definite turn to the right just as my personal beliefs were becoming more clear to me and I could easily see that we were no longer a good match for each other. Some of my old Southern Baptist friends may be praying for my salvation now when they read certain posts on my Facebook page but I don’t mind. I know what makes sense for me and I’m sticking with that, regardless of what others may do or think or even what my own opinions may have been in the past.

It’s amazing what you can learn from technology, isn’t it?

For Maya

I’ve been trying to gather my thoughts and write something about Maya Angelou but I’m stuck on the first sentence.

“Maya Angelou died last week —“

No, that’s not right. 

Her spirit will never die. 

“Maya Angelou is no longer with us —“ 

No, that’s not right, either. 

She is still with us in every word she ever wrote, spoke, or sang. 

So instead of writing…

I’ve been listening.

I’ve listened to news reports and talk show hosts,
to celebrities and people on the street,
all talking about what she taught them about life and love. 

Just the way she spoke taught us something

about the power of words, 

about the value of thoughtfully considering what it is that we really want to say, 

and about the joy of letting words spring from a hopeful heart without hesitation.

The many roads she traveled taught us 

that what we have been is

not necessarily

what we always will be...

that life brings changes...

that we can do better when we know better...

and that forgiveness brings freedom.

We learned from her because
she was always learning. 

She shared what she learned the way a toddler comes running

with eyes shining bright

shouting with joy,

“Look what I found!”

The lesson… the joy… cannot be contained. 

It is given to us to be shared.

And share it, she did. 

Faithfully.

Frequently.

Fearlessly.

It’s the “Fearlessly” part that often stops us in our tracks.

To share what you’ve been learning you must first admit that there’s something you didn’t know.

It calls attention to parts of ourselves that we don’t like to look at…

That we hope the rest of the world doesn’t see.

Maya Angelou wasn’t afraid to take us with her on her journey of learning,

To show us all the paths she had taken...

The lessons she had learned...

The things she had released in order to take hold of something better.

She showed us the hope in her heart,

The good in us that we did not see in ourselves,

The heights we could reach when we felt mired in the depths.

I pray that, like her, we will see…

In our weaknesses 

opportunities for growth, 

In our discouragement 

a spark of hope,

And in each other,

our best selves instead of our worst.

She said,

“I’ve had a lot of rainbows in my clouds. 

I’ve had a lot of clouds. 

But I’ve had a lot of rainbows in my clouds.”

Which will you remember best…

The rainbow or the clouds?

Makers

This afternoon my daughter and I watched a couple of hours of Makers: Women Who Make America. I'd seen it before and she had seen parts of it but this is the first time we'd sat down to watch it together that way. It gave me the opportunity to share some personal memories that put some things in perspective for her.

I recalled where I was as particular dates were mentioned. 1972, when Title IX was passed, I was in the eighth grade and my older sister was graduating from high school. I got married in 1980, the year Oprah dared to ask for a paycheck equal to her male co-worker. A record breaking number of women were elected to Congress in 1992, the year my daughter was born.

Yesterday was a day of memories for me, too, as I watched Vice President Joe Biden on The View. He talked about the Affordable Care Act and how it will give women more choices because they won't have to be dependent on their jobs for health insurance anymore. When he said that I was suddenly back in 1984, driving my daughter to daycare, holding it together until I'd dropped her off and then crying the rest of my one hour drive to my job that provided our family's health insurance. Or on the phone with a neighbor, begging her to look after my baby whose fever was too high to leave her at the day care center, knowing that my paycheck would be docked if stayed home with her myself and we couldn't afford that. I cried on the way to work on days like that, too, knowing that I had no choice. I was the primary breadwinner while my husband was in seminary and we both hoped our situation would be different once he graduated and got a full time job.

Today I watched a clip of Elisabeth Hasselbeck and company on Fox News discussing the Vice President's comments, saying women don't go to work just for the health insurance and it's insulting to say that they do. I'd go back and pull a quote out of that one for you but, frankly, I don't have the stomach to watch it again.

And I can't tell you what I think of them or their opinions because my mama taught me not to use language like that.

But it strikes me that comments like those shared by Hasselbeck and Crystal Wright show their ignorance of the lives of those whose experience differs from their own. Could it be that when they say that “people” don't do such and such they're actually saying “real people”, “right people”, “good people”, you know... “people like us”. Because those other people just don't matter. Not as much as “our kind of people” matter.

And this, to me, is the difference between conservatives and liberals.

Conservatives, by definition, are trying to do the least they can. Conserve your resources, your time, your energy. Don't spend anymore than you have to of any of it. Look after your own needs and let everybody else take care of themselves.

Liberals want to do the most they can for as many as they can. Find the money somewhere because there are people who need it. Change the laws so everyone knows their rights are protected because they've endured enough and we shouldn't make them wait any longer. Your success makes life better for me, too, because we're all in this together.

I guess that makes me a Liberal.

My 8th grade school picture

Puzzling

I grew up in a family of puzzlers.Wherever two or three are gathered during the Christmas holidays you will likely see a jigsaw puzzle in progress. Hours are spent assembling the picture and bonus points are given for complexity.

My Aunt Becky is the Master Puzzler, picking out the most intricate, detailed pictures with the most and often oddly shaped pieces, accumulating a great collection of her own over the years. She has now begun to pass along the best of these to the rest of us to enjoy. The most challenging one I recall was a transparent lucite puzzle that included straight pieces in the middle, not just on the edges. You didn't know if a piece was part of the edge or the middle or even if it was upside down or right side up.

This year my family received from Aunt Becky a 1,000 piece puzzle with a picture of a giant, multi-layered hamburger. It looked delicious, but we soon discovered its particular challenges. Did that green piece belong to the lettuce on the bottom layer or the third layer? Was that red one part of the tomato on the second layer or the slice of bacon on the top? That yellowish brown piece might be part of the bun but was it the top, middle or bottom – or maybe a piece of cheese. It didn't help that the missing piece often turned out to be two or three oddly shaped pieces instead. It took about 4 days but we got it done.

As I spent hours pouring over the pile of pieces, making myself take time out from the usual routine, a few life lessons began to surface. I'm listing them here, in no particular order.

It takes many pieces to make the whole picture. And it wouldn't be complete if even a single one was missing.

Whether you're talking about an extended family or about the larger picture of your life, every piece has it's place. The shadows help us appreciate the highlights.

Small things can make a big difference.

Subtle color shadings or contours determine whether a piece is the one you need or just another one on the pile. Similarities in color or shape do not always guarantee a good fit.

Get help when you need it.

In life, as in jigsaw puzzles, we need each other. We can do more together than we can separately. Even when the progress seems slow, the journey is better because we're not alone.

Proximity can lead to unexpected conversations.

Just by being there, bending over the table, scrutinizing the pile of puzzle pieces, we may find ourselves talking about things we might never have brought up in the usual hustle and bustle of the holidays. Family memories are shared, details filled in about stories we thought we already knew, words of encouragement shared that we never realized were needed. Relationships can be reinforced in these “Oh, by the way...” moments, just because we were there.

Be patient.

Piece by piece, the picture becomes clear. Don't give up or you might miss it. When the picture begins to appear we can become too eager. But if we rush to fill in all the blanks too quickly something vital may be overlooked.

Last, but by no means least....

You know the missing piece is right in front of you. It just doesn't look the way you expected.

Let's hope we keep our minds and hearts open so we may find our missing pieces this new year, even when they come in unexpected ways.

That Day in Dallas

I was five years old, watching As the World Turns with my mother the way we always did during lunch, when Walter Cronkite broke in to announce that President Kennedy had been shot.

I lived in Oak Cliff, the south part of Dallas, a few miles from where Lee Harvey Oswald was captured later that day at the Texas theater. My family was acquainted with the police officer who was shot and killed when he confronted Oswald on an Oak Cliff street.

I remember my mother crying. It was probably the first time I saw her cry. As she made up the beds after we'd gotten the news she punched the pillows harder than usual, as she said "Why would anyone want to do that to that man?!"

I went outside and climbed up to the top of our swing set in the backyard. From my perch I could look to the north and see the skyline of downtown Dallas on the horizon. I have a very strong memory of thinking how strange it was that the things they were talking about on TV were really happening, right over there.


For the next several days there was nothing but news coverage about the assassination on TV, including the murder of Lee Harvey Oswald and then the President's funeral. The images stay with me - Caroline kneeling with her mother beside the flag draped coffin in the rotunda, the caisson carrying the coffin, the grief-stricken faces of Mrs. Kennedy and the President's brothers, the horse with the backward boots, John John's salute and the eternal flame.


When I was a teenager I went on trips with my church's youth choir. Sometimes, after singing at a church in another city, we would stay in the home of the church's members. Once, I recall our host making comments about us being from Dallas, the "city that killed the president."


As I grew up in Dallas , I went to movies at the Texas Theater, worked a couple of summer jobs near where Officer Tippett was shot, and often drove along Stemmons Freeway overlooking Dealy Plaza and the Texas Schoolbook Depository.

But never without thinking of that awful day.

Rainy Day Memories

The SD card in my phone died a couple of days ago. Fortunately, I've got photos backed up on Google+, Facebook, and Flickr with my best photos on 500px. But while checking to make sure I hadn't lost anything I really wanted to keep I ran across this one and I just had to stop and look at it again.

I took it while spending the weekend in New York City with some very special friends in July, 2012, when we were surprised by a summer shower. Ducking into a doorway to get out of the rain and wait until the storm had passed, I snapped this photo. I'm not even sure why but it's become one of my all time favorites. 

Maybe it's because I've always loved rain and it takes me back to playing in puddles when I was a kid. Maybe it helps me remember to stop and look for the beauty and serenity that might be right in front of us when we're surprised by life's little inconveniences. 

Or maybe it just reminds me of the company I was keeping that day.

Word Games

It's not that the words won't come.

It's that they won't stop.

They chase each other around in my head
like kittens around a couch.

I never know when one will pounce

demanding my full attention

only to be nudged aside by another

squirming to take its place.

I see each newborn idea

take its first steps

standing tall

stretching out

reaching wide

gathering others in to join the party.

And there they go around the couch again
inviting me to come and play.