Saturday, July 31, 2010

A cheerful heart does good like medicine



Every now and then God makes a bright person. I'm not talking about somebody smart, or excessively pale and shiny -- just the kind of person who makes a day, or even a moment, better.

Bernard is "bright." So is Roland.

I ran into Bernard at the Corner Market this morning. Five minutes later, I left feeling good. A rare handful of people have the same effect and I've been trying to figure out why. I really don't think it's intentional or planned. It's just their nature.

Take Roland:
He's not a big talker. In fact, the day this picture was made he was talking only into his bananaphone because he lost a bet. (Teen-agers do the darndest things!)

Roland puts these fancy middle names for himself on his Facebook page, so we'll know what he's really like. Today his name is: Roland "Prettyboiswaggin" Jones. Translation: Roland is adorable and cocky today.

I know it's a black teenage thing -- this middle naming yourself. But don't think other races or ages don't do it. What about "the honorable" in front of judges' or lawyers' names? (even those who are not so honorable.) And lots of people clue you in with their t shirts or bumper stickers, as in: "I'm with Stupid" or "Antique Person."

Just as a warning, I came up with a few middle names for myself.
Melinda "a little out there"
Melinda "left my dress in the fridge"
Melinda "Mom of the World"
Melinda "too hot for the hot tub"

If you try this at home, remember your middle name does not have to be accurate. The more grandiose, the better.

Of course changing the middle name to reflect the mood or circumstance could become exhausting.

Unless you're forever making people's day. Then you can post your middle name permanently, like Bernard or Roland -- "day brightener."









Thursday, July 29, 2010

Jumper Cables for Your Brain

Every day you learn something.

Using what you learn -- or even remembering it -- now that's a different subject.

The term for the day is "potentiation." It's a brain science word, part of a high school summer studies course. I am not a high school student, a brain scientist or even the least bit science-savvy. But sometimes moms get called on for tasks outside the comfort zone.

After studying Wikipedia, here's what I think about "potentiation": It means powering up inside your brain. That makes sense. Potent means strong. Omnipotent means all-powerful. Impotent means weak or useless, lacking power.

This "powering up" can happen when drugs add power to the nerve connections -- weed smoking or ecstacy can take you there.

But the cool thing is that "powering up" happens at other times: when you are excruciatingly happy, or exhaustingly sad. When you are horribly embarassed or irrationally frightened.

Emotions power up the nerve endings in your brain and make things unforgettable.

I remember the turqouise color of the vinyl hospital bench from 15 years ago. I was napping there, my cheek stuck to the vinyl, when Dr. Fitzwater came in to give me my child's diagnosis -- kidney failure. I remember the resident standing beside him, the way my husband nudged me and even the words "you might want to hear this." I remember the shape of the room and the way my mind started racing frantically. I remember the nurse interrupting to say my mother-in-law was calling.

I remember Christmas morning from 45 years ago at my grandmother's house. The presents, a Chatty Cathy doll and a Dr. Kildare medical kit, were positioned on the deacon's bench underneath the picture window.

I don't remember football plays or baseball scores. No emotion -- or even pain, I guess -- in that.

I definitely don't remember phone numbers, gate codes, usernames and passwords.

But dulce la leche cheesecake at the Cheesecake Factory? Man, I remember that!

Emotion creates the memories to give us hope.

Or hold us back.

Now what was that word for the day? "Potentiation." Use it with power.













Tuesday, July 27, 2010

No wash out for Em

Emily is no average washer-woman.
Her cheerleader looks and glowing smile make her look more like a sitcom star or a cosmetics model.

But this brown-eyed girl in the laundry at Young Life camp is an orphan, and a rebel and a former drug user. And that's just part of the story.

When Emily was 12, her little sister got cancer and died. Her single mom came home from the hospital and found comfort in alcohol. So Emily left to live with her father, who had never cared for a kid, much less a drug-using 13-year-old.

That arrangement didn't work. Emily found herself alone.

Her parents weren't dead, but they might as well have been. Then she met her real Father.

I've heard testimonies and turn-arounds and turning-overs. But Emily's is astounding.

This month she is washing bedding and towels from morning to evening WITHOUT PAY -- hoping that the campers, many of whom hurt like she did, will see God in her carefully folded towels and hospital-cornered sheets.

This mite of a girl reminds me of the widow Jesus pointed to as an example of true giving. She had nothing, but she gave it all.

Emily's story can make the average teen feel ashamed to have two parents -- or even one -- who loves their guts.
Sad to have a brother or sister they push around.
Reminded that those who have been given much are expected to give back more.

St. Francis of Assisi said, "It is in giving that we receive."

Emily proves it.

She is one rich little girl.




Saturday, July 17, 2010

You were made for this



To really live life, you have to get out of your comfort zone.

You've gotta spit crickets,
and dress up like a hillbilly
and sing along with Miley Cyrus
and drop to your knees and pray.

We'll be doing that and more -- way, way more -- for the next week, living the Young Life at camp in Asheville, N.C.

There is not enough blog-space to explain what Young Life is. You can't REALLY understand it without turning off the TV and experiencing it.

But here's a vignette from last year's camp that gets to the heart of it.

The song "I'm Not Who I Was" is playing in the dark. Hundreds of kids are sitting cross-legged or propped against each other. In the quiet. Listening.

I wish you could see me now
I wish I could show you how
I'm not who I was
I used to be mad at you
A little on the hurt side too
But I'm not who I was

Quietly and solemnly a young woman walks onstage carrying a poster-sized piece of cardboard. On the front it says: "Abandoned by my dad."
Turning it over, she reveals the truth she holds:
"My heavenly father will never leave me."

Behind her is a muscular Latino guy with his cardboard message:
"Addicted to porn."
Smiling, he flips his sign: "Satisfied in Christ."

In walks a wisp of a lady, with her tears. Her sign says: "Cutter"
Eyebrows raise in the audience as she overturns her cardboard. On the new side: "Totally healed by God."

One after another they appeared, baring their old lives on cardboard:
"Anorexic"
"Party-girl"
"Whore to the world"

And, one after another, their signs turned, revealing their new lives:
"Fulfilled by the life-giver"
"Dancer for Jesus"
"Pure in Christ"

Pretty dramatic.

Drama, adventure, lavish love. All part of a time often called "the best week of our lives."

Mine too, my precious teenager friends... mine too.





Friday, July 16, 2010

Say a little cheer for me

Dr. Seuss is the best rhymer of all time. Who would think to rhyme "deft" and "left"?

As in: "Just never forget to be dexterous and deft and never mix up your right foot with your left."

I was talking with my friend Cindy Lou Who this morning via text message. She is in a particularly difficult, useless place that Dr. Seuss rhymes about: the waiting place.

You know, that excruciatingly painful spot where nothing seems to be happening -- at least not to you. It comes in stages of your life.
Just after college.
Pregnancy.
Before and after surgery.
When you have one or more kids under the age of five.

As much as you long for accomplishment and activity, there you are --
"Waiting for a train to go
or a bus to come, or a plane to go
or the mail to come, or the rain to go
or the phone to ring, or the snow to snow
or waiting around for a Yes or a No
or waiting for their hair to grow.
Everyone is just waiting."

A rhyme seems to make it more beareable.

When things get kind of bluesy-foggy, we make up a little cheer -- a stupid rhyme that's not even close to Dr. Seuss poetry.

If you're lucky, you might get a birthday cheer like this one for Meg's birthday:

Shake your pom poms and be a Meg Turner fan
She married the son of a preacher man
Everyone knows she's a gorgeous creature
But her smile is her very best feature
She loves a party, you know she's a hottie
And everything she wears flatters her body
Meg Meg Meg Meg
Love Love love Love Love

Or a cheer to help you through law school exams:
Prince Peter the first deserves a toast.
He's the son-in-law so it's right to boast.
He's a guy with looks and brains
Who never ever gives us pains.
So here's a tip for the graduate hubby:
Live a good life and never get tubby.

Oh well. It's better than a greeting card by Anonymous.

"So...
be your name Buxbaum or Bixby or Bray
or Mordecai Ali Van Allen O'Shea,
you're off to Great Places!
Today is your day!
Your mountain is waiting.
So...get on your way!"

Thanks for the cheer, Dr. S!

Thursday, July 15, 2010

Got a meeting in the ladies' room

We've come a long way bather. If you want evidence, here it is: bathroom excess.

The crown jewel of every fabulous house I've seen lately is the living-room-size bathroom. Marble, granite, glass, chrome -- even a chaise lounge or two for relaxing before and after your bathroom duties.

Hmm..Wonder what that says about us?

At Mawmaw Tressie's house there was one toilet and one white enamel slop jar. That could make for desperate times when grandchildren were visiting and one kid locked himself in, flushing away the key.

Personally, I'm all for bathroom comfort. I like a roomy shower and a place to spread out all the smell-better, live-younger potions.

But my Rachel is a fanatic about her bathrooms. At home, she never confines herself and her beauty products to just one -- she makes good use of them all. Out in public, she is a bathroom connoisseur. Ever since she was old enough to toddle to the ladies' room, she insisted on examining each one, whether she needed to or not.

We now know that....
At Macaroni Grill, a sexy lady's voice speaks Italian while you pee.
Walnut Circle Restaurant has a fountain flowing outside the restroom to get you in the mood.
At Purple Parrot Cafe, the bathroom walls decree that creamed corn is better than sex.

The pinnacle of all restaurant bathrooms, however, must be at Caliza in Alys Beach, Fla. Push your way through a cascade of metal beads to reach the Meditteranean mosaic tile. Inside, there's a shower with multiple heads and individual stalls with mahogany doors. All part of your fine dining experience.

If you find an incredible "comfort station" in some exotic locale, no need to search for a deeper meaning. Enjoy the comfort. You'll need it next time you walk, spatula-size key in hand, around to the back door of the Shell station.

Monday, July 12, 2010

This dog had his day


Toby has the love of God in his heart. All he wants to do is stand beside the road and be a friend to man.

Maybe he'll get to spread more love now that he's passed his therapy dog test. The test certifies that dogs are safe to visit in hospitals, nursing homes or other therapy situations.

It wasn't easy. The evaluator gave him a little leeway because the white picket fence around the testing ring was obviously discomfiting. Maybe the metal latticework reminded him of prison bars at Sawmill Animal Hospital.

There were 18 challenges and Toby had to pass all 18.

I knew he would be great with kids -- he's used to teenagers worrying the dog out of him. But I feared the required encounter with numerous old people speaking gibberish and buzzing around on crutches. That would be scary to any species.

Not Toby.

He acted as if the ranting handicaps didn't exist.

He sailed through "sit," "stay," "come" and "wait with a friendly stranger."

His family was so proud -- even Papa called to congratulate him.

So let him be an example to all of us easily-agitated humans.

Toby's advice:
Don't be afraid of loud noises or uncomfortable encounters.

If they ask you to perform, share your talents with others.

Make friends easily.

Be tolerant of children and old people.
and, oh yeah...

Don't get fenced in.

Friday, July 2, 2010

I get by with a little help from my friends

There's a long list of things I know now that I didn't know then.
Children are God's best gifts.
Cats are less trouble than dogs.
Money, china, jewelry, nice cars and furniture can't make you happy.

Some things you have to live through to figure out. But I'd really like to save people the trouble when it comes to one true thing. I preach it to my daughters and my needy friends and even random brides and grooms.

Here it is:
One person, no matter how wonderful, can NOT be expected to meet all your needs.

It goes against the Snow White-Prince Charming fairy tale, but it's true. A husband, wife, best friend, mom or daughter is just one person. And you have too many burdens for that one person to carry.

A good husband can fix your frozen computer or tell you what medicine to take for whatever aches you. A best friend can clean, babysit, spy, eavesdrop, wait, laugh and celebrate with you. Your mom can untangle the biggest mess you ever got yourself into.

But nobody can be all things to one person.

I confess that I have been the "one person" sort. Like Cristina and Meredith on Grey's Anatomy. They openly claim to be each other's "person."

They are still young. Maybe they can meet each other's emotional needs -- at least the ones their doctor boyfriends leave dangling.

But I need an army of needs-meeters. I need my aerobics class and my Bible study friends and my tennis teammates and my subdivision neighbors. I need the law wives and the relatives and even the garden clubbers. I have seen my needs and they are legion.

So I write it on the card with the wedding gift -- just a little free advice for all you innocent, starry-eyed brides and grooms. Don't expect him to do it all. Don't expect her to always be there for you.

There's your bonus. Take it or leave it.

And best wishes for a life well-lived.


Thursday, July 1, 2010

We are fam-i-ly


Mississippi's author legend William Faulkner made famous the South's "sense of place."

Oh Mr. Faulkner. You got that right.

But it's not just about place. It's about people who live in that place.

When Rachel was just a baby and very sick, she needed two pints of blood a day for 14 days. It had to be A negative, the doctors said.

It had to come from friends, her parents said.

The doctor was a big city guy who had only recently moved to Mississippi. When we said we could find 28 hometown people to donate blood, he was incredulous.

It's impossible. Do you understand that all these people must first, have A negative blood, and second, be willing to give? And how will you find these people?

Well ..... We could call out the National Guard.
(They came.)
And ... The school district could ask employees to donate and let them leave work to do so. (They gave.)
And ... We could hold a blood drive at church. (Dozens donated. Two passed out while bleeding for a good cause.)

Dr. Fitzwater was blown away. Not only did we have two weeks' worth of blood -- 28 donors typed as A negative -- we had extras. And for each extra, the hospital took $50 off the hospital bill. We paid off that multi-thousand dollar bill with blood.

How's that for a blood sacrifice?

So here's to a sense of place, and people with good sense. We don't have an Outback Steakhouse or a Target or a tricked-out YMCA.

But -- in small town Mississippi -- we are family.

And just to prove it, the blood of at least 28 small-towners runs in Rachel's healthy veins.