The Expression of Love

Our Sunday School teacher kindly asked me if I would write a story for this Sunday, Dec. 27 on the Love Chapter from Corinthians.  With my eyes downcast I shook my head sideways and mumbled, "No." I honestly meant no because I understand God's teachings, but I felt unprepared to tell a Bible story in my own words. So Curtis asked others in our Zoom meeting to please write and share. No one took him up on it. 

Even a NO isn't final. First thing on Monday I sat down and read and read the passages from ICorinthians 12, 13 along with explanations in the New Oxford Annotated Bible. It began to open my heart. Paul the Apostle, shares with the people of the church in Corinth that the gifts of wisdom, knowledge, faith, healing, miracles, prophecy along with the speaking in tongues and the interpretation of tongues, come from the spirit, but are nothing without LOVE. 13:8.  LOVE never ends. LOVE is like the wind, it never subsides.  Without this LOVE that is patient and kind, like a mother’s love for her child, we have nothing.

 I knew the feeling of God's love, but...

The story might have ended there, except for two reasons. I rarely run from a challenge, but my heart and head made excuses. To my delight on Tuesday, December 22, my five year old companion, Ruth Anne, and I had the opportunity to tour the lovely home of the Christmas Tree Lady. While touring her home filled with colorful trees and walls of Christmas decorations, I realized that she opened the door to her heart by sharing her home and childhood stories about her mother. I knew that this LOVE is what Paul was relating to his followers in Corinth. 

The pictures will show the beauty of her trees, but the deep and abiding LOVE comes in every stitch her mother made in the delicate three hundred and fifty handmade decorations carefully stitched by hand with love in the tree shown above. Her walls were filled with hand made decorations, trees and tree skirts sewn with nearly invisible stitches. There were ornaments, trains, toys, and stockings.

In her husband's library she filled the spaces with trees decorated in his favorite themes of cars, airplanes, OU. Some of the small cars had tiny packages inside, all going to grandma's house.

Her kitchen displayed a cookie cutter tree, a gingerbread man who talked, and a cupcake tree. These were some of Ruth's favorite. 

Deloros’s tonality of sharing changed from a teacher’s voice of explanation and humor for the spectacular Hallmark glass ornaments, to a soft tone; a mother’s tone of caressing a child; a mother’s tone of kindness, a mother's tone of grace and love whenever she touched a handmade gift from her mother’s talented hands and heart. 

Her mother’s love we felt in every tiny Christmas ornament, in every colorful bead of her hand stitched ornaments. The Christmas stockings are hung by the chimney with care, but they were made with love. I could see the love radiating from Deloros as she walked us through her home.  Every space glowed with sparkling glass centerpieces, ten trees each decorated in a theme, and a fireplace beaming with stockings and trees.

Deloros’s connection with her hometown of Carthage, Missouri carries its roots deep into her heart. Her collection of Precious Moments figurines shows the love she cherishes in the artwork and vision of its creator, Sam Butcher. The creator, Sam Butcher, says that his fondest memories are of his grandmother telling him Bible stories, giving him a deep interest in spiritual things. Sam’s life changed one night in a country church, where he heard the good news of salvation, and asked Jesus to come into his heart. Since that night, he decided to only use his artistic talent for the Lord. Something tells me Deloros felt that love when she began collecting these precious figurines.

Ruth Anne's favorite scenes in Precious Moments were of the little dog, Sugar and her puppies. 

When God gave Deloros’s mother the gift of being a seamstress, he also gave her LOVE. LOVE that was passed on in every stitch she took for her daughter. Even touching the round green skirt showing the elaborate forms of the Twelve Days of Christmas, I could feel the love.  

I believe this is the spirit within which God works. We each have gifts and his unconditional love if we choose.  The spirit of LOVE which Paul hoped and prayed that his followers would understand.

 

For more information on Precious Moments click on this link:  Timmy's Tower

 

 

JOY TO THE WORLD

 

Dear Friends, 

Oh, what a JOY to come to the end of this year of COVID.  When the dramatic news of Covid hit the airways, I found myself with friends in La Quinta, Ca. playing golf. Driving to the airport on March 17, we felt the emptiness and fear while driving through Palm Springs. There was NO traffic; No people shopping, No one standing in line and No restaurants open. Even the life sized statue of Sonny Bono sat alone in the city park.. Suddenly, the masks appeared at the airport.

Now here we find ourselves in the same boat as the world. We are all floating down the same stream; a community of the world where we all face the same virus and dis-ease. Jack and I found JOY in the projects we completed in the first few months. Walking the dog became our lifeline.  JOY turned to sobs when our dog, Lucy died in September. Now we find our doggie fixes by walking our friends' dogs.

Golfing with friends in the fresh air has been our life boat. Rather than eat inside for our lunches on ladies day, we found a group of shade trees near the clubhouse where we could sit in our golf carts to chat or enjoy a lunch from the Trails menu. 

As if we hadn't spent enough time outside, Mother Nature saw fit to send an October ICE STORM. The next few weeks Jack and I practiced strength training in our yard, as we cut, carried, and stacked tree limbs, which six weeks later still decorate our yard.. There are blessings even in this mess. We are so thankful to our neighbors for helping, and to the broken brown limbs that have attracted more birds to our feeders. One evening a Great Horned Owl sat at the top of a broken tree and lifted our spirits with his grace. A few days later a Pinkish Dark-Eyed Junco appeared at the feeder. JOY indeed as we identified a bird we had never seen before. Like magic, the third stranger appeared to us; a Great Blue Heron adopted our neighborhood for a few days. What magnificence he shared as we watched his shadow fly over our heads, where he rested on roof tops. To think of what we would have missed if we hadn't been "home". 

 May each day bring Joy to your World. 

 

Sincerely,

Literally Letty Watt

Taking Center Stage: A True Story 1958

 

Tom and Virginia Lee Wilson’s Dance Recital memory

Miami Memories

 

View from the balcony (where the lovers used to meet).

        Before the floodlights and spotlights brush the stage, before the music begins and the plush burgundy curtains part, a world appearing in crisis is scurrying back stage, but the black and white photo of three future Rockettes shows childhood confidence and pride moments before the curtain call.  Three little girls are posing by the stage door, proudly grinning ear to ear in their colorful neon orange costumes, standing like Rockettes with an outside arm on the hip and the inside arm over shoulder, arm over shoulder, arm over shoulder and closed by an outside arm on the hip.

        Much of the excitement of that dance recital so many years ago is lost in the black and white shades of the Brownie Kodak camera photo (now lost on paper but not in my memory).   Our boots glistened pure white and silver tassels hung from the boot top.  Our white cowboy rolled hats were placed squarely on our heads with chins straps securely holding the hat in place.  Two blue eyed blondes adorned my sides while my shoulder length brunette hair hung to my shoulders.  No braces, no glasses, no earrings, no curves to our bodies, shapeless, yes, but lips flashed of Elizabeth Taylor red. Many of our mothers who never let us wear makeup allowed Virginia Lee and her mother to carefully line our lips and make us shine on stage.

        Our short dance dress costumes were sewn in the newest shiny neon material (never before seen on stage).  Mine a brilliant orange while my bookend friends are dressed in contrasting chartreuse green.  We could have passed for characters in Alice in Wonderland with those flashy colors.   The bodice of our costumes was fitted with darts and little puff sleeves.  I was mortified that I had darts, for I certainly didn’t own a bra, wear a bra, nor would I ever be caught dead in a bra.  Just the same I had darts up from the waist and arrowing across my flattened chest, but a giggle from some of us echoed that it was about womanhood.

        The twelve inch circular skirt was sewn to the bodice with a long zipper going up the back.  Unlike the surrey in the play Oklahoma our skirts had a fringe on the bottom.  Not just any fringe but silver glistening threads that sparkled in the flood lights.  When our dancing legs kicked in line our matching bloomers showed, and our conservative parents laughed.  The motivation to kick high came easily in our costumes.

        Now the Wilson Dance Recital was upon us.  A covey of nervous young girls huddled back stage awaiting the musical cue, but in the stilled silence of the dancers nervous breathing we could smell the stench of rotten fish emanating from a nearby unknown source.  Not a breath of air circulated back stage on that sultry June evening.  The sounds of “ Pee—ew” grew louder as the stench grew stronger the closer we all gathered.  Eyes scanned the area on the floor looking for the source of the sickening smell.  Mothering stage hands flew to our huddle to silence our fears, but nothing could silence the smell so strong that flowers could wilt and eyes could tear.   Suddenly, a whispered screamed and finger pointing explosion came my way.  “It’s you.  It’s you.  It’s on your back.” 

        “Smell it.  It’s on your back! Ugh, Letty.”

        “On my back,” I whispered in angry humiliated tones.  Nearly wrenching my neck peering backwards. I begged,  “Get it off whatever it is.”  All I could imagine was a dead stink bug stuck to my neon orange costume.

        No, the black and white photo does not show the oval tent shape of an iron left too long in place on the back of a costume from my mother's attempt to iron the wrinkles, nor the stench that arose from that never before used shiny neon material.  Nor does it show the disgust and moans of the dancers around a young girl when it was discovered that I was the source of the unusual odor only seconds before hearing our queue.  Before I could run and hide the music began.  My head snapped up and my heart dropped like a heavy bucket to my stomach.  The dance must go on. 

        Dancers pranced and giggled off stage and in seconds the three future Rockettes lined up proudly with hats squared.  Marching like well trained horses, one smelling of manure, we appeared on stage smiling ear to ear.  We strutted magnificently that night on stage at the Coleman Theater with tassels glistening making our parents proud.

        And yes, one little girl was made stronger that night by stepping onto center stage and kicking those tasseled boots high into the flood lights.

On stage about 1960. left to right young girls: ?, Lynette Rains Kemp, ? Nancy Owens, ? Letty Stapp Watt, Dottie Miller, Nancy Adams, Beverly Gaines. 

Letty Stapp Watt

I would love to hear your  memories or stories of the Coleman Theater or  in The Wilson Dance Recitals of the 1950's--1960's.  Please use the comment section below. 

*The original Coleman Theater was built by George Coleman and opened in April 1929. In my childhood the glory remained but had begun to fade. Now thanks to the Friends of the Coleman Theater it has been completely restored, and is the most magnificent theater that your mind can imagine.  Come travel Route 66 to Miami, Oklahoma and visit this stunning showcase. 

This photo of the replaced original carpet and shows the insignia of 
George L. Coleman Sr
Click on the link below for more information on the Coleman Theater
The Coleman Theatre

CELEBRATING A DAY TO BE THANKFUL

And the dog barks just as I reach my fingers to the keyboard. Doesn't she know that I have thoughts and feelings to share with friends on this Thanksgiving, but toss and tug will not wait on words or the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade.  Stepping outside into a cool day with sunshine on our backs,  Jack and I play toss, tag, and tug with a Golden Doodle. We could qualify for the funniest video of the day. We are younger because we can still play with puppies. We jump, we run, we make sharp turns, and then we take a Advil. We give thanks that our knees and legs can still move with agility.  

I give thanks that the Macy's Day Parade is being held, even in the light rain fall. Afterall, as my husband says, "Be glad they didn't postpone the Parade this year." I am glad that it is being held for the world to see and hear the music from Broadway musicals.  Al Roker, who is dealing with cancer, looks sprye and happy to be on 34th street. This year's parade is being broadcast so that visually impaired people can enjoy it, too. Perhaps one of the blessings in this year of COVID is that we are all learning to be more inclusive. 

West Indian American Day, Jamaica, Haiti, Panama, Trinidad

 There is something special about parades, from hometown Christmas parades, to Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade, and my favorite the Rose Bowl Parade. They remind me that this is a time to come together, to share  our lives through colorful scenes, songs, beauty of the flowers, fascination with floats, themes from books and imaginative idea, and a time to be  happy together. 

I am keeping an eye on the clock. No, we have no turkey cooking. We have reached a new level of enjoying the day.  My sister and her husband are in charge of bringing two homemade pies from Shari's Diner in OKC.  Jack and I ordered a meal from The Trails Country Club.  At 11:30  I will simply put the two trays of side dishes in the oven to heat, along with the turkey and beef tenderloin.  On my own, I will fix Pepperidge Farm stuffing and open a can of jellied cranberry sauce. The puppy, we are dog sitting, will then clean the dishes for us. 

When we turned the cooking over to someone else, it seemed to ease the day for my sister and I. We can share a relaxed time with our husbands and each other. For that I am grateful. 

Later today we will call our daughter, Katy, in Okc, our oldest son, Michael, and his family in Dodgeville, Wisconsin, and son, Matthew,  in Brooklyn, NY. Like so many families in the world we have not seen our sons since 2019. I am not thankful for that, but I am proud of them for taking this virus seriously and staying safe. 

Over a month ago many locations in the OKC area woke up to frozen and broken limbs and trees. Trees covered with leaves and ice sound like gunshots when they break and fall to the ground. It took Jack and I nearly two weeks of cutting, dragging, and stacking  tree limbs. I have not found reason to be thankful for this blow of nature, until we offered to babysit June Bug, a four month old Goldendoodle, for the week of Thanksgiving. Suddenly, our cut tree limbs have become the greatest toy for a chewing puppy. Jack took time to cut up limbs, some heavy some light for her to chew, and several have found their way indoors. Suddenly, bark takes on new meaning when it is a puppy barking with surprise at a new discovery or tree bark all over the living room floor. I texted my sister and said,  "We have a puppy dog visitor. Please dress appropriately for a dog who wants to chew anything in sight." 

Jonya, my sister, replied, "We will dress appropriately, protectively, and defensively." So our family will celebrate this day and say our blessings that Covid has not struck our family. Our prayers and heartfelt love is extended to all who are suffering at this time. 

MAY THIS DAY BE A REMINDER OF THE WONDERFUL THINGS IN LIFE.

Meaningful Moments

November brings sunlight, migrating birds, and a chill in the air, and yet this glorious state of Oklahoma can find summer days in November. Next week we have planned golf tee times for four days out of five. It is refreshing to enjoy so much sunshine and warmth after the ice storm of October, that has left our landscaped scarred. The rising fear of COVID 19 once again has settled into our souls, and we are looking for chances to enjoy friendships in the sun. 

Taking time to breath and relax after chopping, pulling, tugging, and tossing tree limbs, Jack and I took a long walk over the hidden hill, up and down, breathing deeply and laughing when we tired so quickly. On the last hill upward and homeward bound we saw a giant 'kissing tree,' or at least I saw a giant  tree on the horizon filled with mistletoe the size of leaf bags. Needing a chance to slow our pace, I gently tugged on Jack's arm and pointed upwards. He looked at the mass of mistletoe and smiled saying, "I love you." I returned his smile but didn't budge.

Once again pointing upward I asked, "And what is the custom when standing under mistletoe?" Without another word he pulled me into his chest, covered my body with his arms, and planted a sloppy loving kiss on my lips. I just love being in love.

During this week when the world whirled with Presidential controversy, we said yes to babysitting a Goldendoodle puppy nearly four months old. No cliche of my mother's could describe the hysterical mayhem that existed in our quiet home for two and a half days. So innocent, little Miss June Bug appeared.

Her puppy energy flowed indoors and outdoors. Like we did with Lucy, we went outside with our puppy and played ball. It didn't last long because she discovered the torn tassels of the pampas grass broken and strewn all over our yard by the storms. Junie B, as I nicknamed her, carried the flowering tassels in her mouth and ran in a gallop back and forth across the yard. Tiny fluffs of pampas grass floated into the air like children blowing bubbles.

On day two I drove to PetCo and bought chew toys, and oh, did she ever love to tug, growl, and bit at anything that moved, including our feet and ankles. We never quit laughing.

On day three I attempted to sit in on a Zoom meeting. What was I thinking? I did my best to pay attention, but Junie B had other plans, like chew on a golf ball. Not good I tried to explain to her, then she found a squeaky toy that I keep for kids to play with, not good I explained and grabbed it from her.  At last she found a workout ball that she could chew, and occasionally found my sock and ankle to chew on. I lasted forty minutes on Zoom. I can't imagine the view my friends had of me as I continually dropped away from the computer screen to pull something out of the dog's mouth. 

That afternoon, I invited our neighbor to bring her six month old puppy over to play.  

Quinn, Australian Shepherd looks so regal on his footstool, but in action he runs like an Oklahoma dust storm in constant motion, never missing a swirl.  

Watching Junie B trying to run figure eights was a riot. Quickly, Junie B caught on that she would not be able to keep up the race, so she stood crosswise to the running dog and took the passing blows of Quinn, leaving both dogs to roll and tumble. For nearly an hour, Linda and I sat in lawn chairs watching the dogs play. For a moment, I thought back to the days when I sat in the park, a proud young mother watching her daughter play on the slides and swings. She was always a dare-devil in the spirit of play. 

Our minister called to check on us this week. It filled my heart with joy to hear his voice and concerns. I explained that even though we felt apprehensive with the coming months of indoor activity, we had managed to play more golf this summer than in the years when I felt younger. He wished he had an escape like golf.

Ironically, I have golfing friends who sometimes say things like; I am really not competitive, I just like to play golf with friends and be social. I just laugh, because I know that deep down inside each one of my golfing friends has a competitive streak. 

On a warm day this week, with only a hint of a breeze three of us teed off near the ten o'clock hour. Even though I thought I hit the ball with zing and power I found that my short game stumped me. On hole nine, I chunked my favorite chip shot to the green and my head dropped in disgust. "That hurt my ego," I expressed out loud. We laughed. 

On hole thirteen none of us went in the water, but Donna, our five foot tall dynamo out drove me, on a great drive I might add. She nearly danced a jig she was so proud. Naturally, we took a photo with her showing her bitch wings and me pointing to a ball not even in the picture.

Being a non-competitive group of ladies, and that's a tall tale, we continued on our lovely day in the sun sharing stories. On hole number eighteen, the last hole of the day, we teed off and each of us found the fairway with our tee shots. Being able to say that our tee shot is in play (in the fairway), is a great line to use in golf, especially when the leaves have fallen and the rough is littered with brown crumpled leaves that hide golf balls from men and women alike.  

"Ah ha!" Kathy yelled pointing her finger toward the ground, "Look what I did. I just out drove both of you."

With a little imagination look for three golf balls, 
foreground, middle left, and front. 

I am sure glad this is not a competitive group of women golfers, but they are some of the greatest ladies I have ever been blessed to play golf with regularly. And that is most meaningful for me.

Meaningful Moments

This week has passed in a wintry blur of frozen tree limbs hanging to the ground building igloos underneath.  For a week the weather predictors promised ice and rain, but since when do we put a great deal of credit in their exuberance to share diabolical weather conditions?

We felt the sting of winter and our trees bent and broke before our very eyes. 

In those my moments of awe at Mother Nature's power, I found some amazing moments. 

I love zinnias and enjoy watching the birds freely scatter the zinnia seeds from year to year. They may pop us anywhere in our gardens bringing a smile to my face and the hum of insects exploring their red, pink, violet, burning orange, or yellow petals. With this ice storm I discovered their beauty encased in ice. Isn't nature amazing?

Along with the shock of the ice storm came the experience of waiting in line to vote early at the Fairgrounds. I really don't know what we expected to see at 8:00 in the morning with a cold blustery damp rain falling, but it sure wasn't the line already wrapped around the building on the outside! Being the problem solvers that we are, we drove over to IHop and ate breakfast. Still not believing a line in the weather, we drove by the Fairgrounds and moaned. The line was even longer. 

By noon the weather changed and the sun came out. It seems like another few hundred or thousand people made the same choice. We stood in line from 12:24pm until we voted at 2:35pm. 

I am proud to be an American, and even more proud  that our crowd of people from our county all wore masks, displayed no abusiveness, no arguments, nothing negative. In fact, I enjoyed people watching. Amazing how we all seem to blend as thoughtful caring human beings. Each and every person felt a duty to vote and not make a scene. 

  I'm Proud to Be an American by Lee Greenwood (click here to listen to the music)

And I'm proud to be an American

Where at least I know I'm free

And I won't forget the men who died

Who gave that right to me

And I'd gladly stand up next to you

And defend Her still today

'Cause there ain't no doubt

I love this land

God Bless the U.S.A.

There is still nothing better than neighborhood friends who step in to help in times of need, and we all need help from time to time. Thank you Charley and Debi for helping us to save one tree in the front yard, by cutting down the damaged hanging tree. 

After several hours of labor over two days, the tree is down and stacked all around the yard. We finished off the night with pizza and a few adult beverages. Cheers! We are thankful for meaningful moments in life.   

A Funny Ending After All

Between Braum's malts, with an extra dip of malt please, hitting golf balls on the driving range, and walking, I let go of all things that consumed my gut earlier this month.  This only took a day of my life and lots of laughter therapy at myself, and then I read this cartoon. "Autumn shows us how beautiful it is to let things go." I could have played in the leaves and forgotten everything instantly.  *Previous blog link Looking for a Funny Ending

Except our leaves haven't fallen and now we have a snow and ice storm tearing our tress apart. This is why Oklahoman's have such a humorous backbone when it comes to weather. It is, after all, October 26. Why should we be surprised at icy roads and closed schools?

The computer is no longer in danger of a dastardly virus, and so far we haven't caught a virus either. Best of all my new car adventures reached closure with the purchase of "Helen Reddy."

2020 Ford Escape

This purchase reminded me again of how resolute we women need to be when taking on the world of car buying. After I relaxed from three days of golf competition, I returned to the computer for info on new smaller SUV's.  I also queried women friends who had newer cars with safety and technological advances.  Then I put together a list of what I wanted and what I didn't need. I didn't need all of the space I once needed for golf adventures across Kansas and Oklahoma. I needed new safety features and wanted a sporty color, not white, not black, not gray.

Within three days, the dealership worked with me and found a red Ford Escape. Only people who are five foot five or shorter might appreciate the most important feature on my new car, the seat belt that crosses my chest fits me. For decades I wore the seat belt under my left arm, knowing that on impact I would crush my left boob, my lungs, and my heart and die! Now I feel safer than ever. 

Owning a new car and with confounding technology, like remote start, travel apps, audio messaging, warning systems that light up without explanation, means that I have to learn to drive all over again. 

Let's start with the beginning. Immediate success doesn't happen when learning how to start the car with NO ignition switch. My right hand is trained to insert a key, not push a button; trained to reach for a gear shift, not a shift dial; and besides that the car runs so quietly that I can't tell if it is running or not. Older cars can be heard.

My weekend reading highlights included "Memory Function." It seems my car knows more than I do. "Intelligent Access Remote Entry Icons"-- directions that anyone can follow IF they've done it before. The cold temperatures yesterday pushed me to read and learn how to use the remote start, but now I need to know how to program myself or "smart phone" to warm the seats and the steering wheel before I get in. (Matthew please come home from New York and teach me how to be as smart as my car and phone.)  "Intelligent Access" but nowhere does it explain the training involved in changing the mind of a woman who could still start a car with a clutch and run it through the gears. Best laugh of technical reading: The index refers to a "bonnet lock." Where was this when the pioneer women needed it?

My favorite technology is a BLIS (Blind Spot Information System). Even after cataract surgery I worried that my eyes might not see a small car coming along side of me. Now my car tells me with orange flashing indicator lights on the side mirrors when a car is in the blind spot. Relief!

 Somewhere on the car the book tells me I have a "panic" button. Where was that panic button when my car vibrated and tightened the steering wheel when I was test driving the car? The manual tells me to use the panic button only in case of a "Post Crash Alert." I hope I never have to learn that system. 

1972 Capitol Records

Sadly, I can't play my Helen Reddy music.  A new challenge of learning how to upload or download music to the cloud creates a sense of stress. Yes, Sirius plays my music until the contract runs out. I can plug in my EYE phone and listen to Pandora, but I have
no EYEdea of how to listen to my favorite CD music. Turning my head to the right of my computer, I see three shelves of CD'S. Oops, and a pile of records.  What to do?

I think I will simply listen to the ice hit the roof,  watch the house finches flutter around the bird feeder, hope that our trees are strong enough to withstand a freak winter storm, and give thanks for all we have. 

Ironically, in a time of smart phones and cars, we still need candles and matches lined up on the kitchen counter, just in case the power and brilliance of our world goes out. It must still be 2020. 

The End. 

The Never Ending Story/Storm rages on....

Looking for A Funny Ending

I vividly remember sitting in fifth grade taking a test on the multiplication tables! Rather than looking around the room or out the window for answers, I simply rubbed my tummy and felt ready to leap to run. Over and over I rubbed my tummy. 

Carl Sandburg must have felt my pain when he said, Arithmetic is where you have to multiply--and you carry the multiplication table in your head and hope you don't lose it."

One day at age sixteen when I practiced my golf swing in the heat of day my tummy ached. My swing had abandoned me and the tournament began the next day. My gut ached to the point that I stopped and rubbed my tummy. I couldn't breath because if I sucked air into my diaphragm then I looked fat!  Out of the clear blue my mind began to sing a nonsense Girl Scout song that let me breath, and helped with the belly ache. This one simple skill especially saved me many a times with tension over golf, schooling, and then 'Life.'

 "Om pa, om pa, tiddly pom. Om pa, om pa, tiddly pom

Two blue pigeons....one was black and white  pom

Sandy he belonged to the mill, the mill belonged to Sandy still.

Sandy he belonged to the mill, the mill belonged to Sandy." 

Sandy's Mill 

Decades later my tummy still hurts from time to time, depending on the stress of my life.  I didn't know in fifth grade that I felt stress, nor did I at age sixteen. By age twenty-five  the doctors began to prescribe medicine for those times. Valium does not give answers nor guidance.

Over the years, I leaned on Braum's malts, with a double dip of malt, Saltine crackers, water, singing out loud, walking, and hitting golf balls for a cure.  No medicines can really cure what ails us when the head, the heart, and the gut work so hard to give us answers.  Answers that we, along with faith, must work out. 

There are many ways of going forward, but only one way of standing still." Franklin D. Roosevelt. 

Time and experience helped me figure out that my gut quit hurting when God showed me or coached me on how to solve my problem. 

 Al Anon planted it firmly in my soul to "Let Go and Let God."

Most recently, my gut throbbed with emotions, confusion, and too much happening at once.  I have been car shopping, and must laugh at myself for finding the occasion of driving new cars to be quite overwhelming with technology. Honestly, it is like the car says 'let me do the job since you are not capable of driving and focusing!!!!' No technology will take over my life, I thought. For instance, the car can now tell you when you are weaving down the road, or you get too close to another car. Who drives without hands and head totally focused on the road? Apparently, there are many people who barely pay attention to the road, especially when the driver can text verbally, a message to someone. That thought explodes in my brain like fireworks.

My Prayer: Thank you Lord for not giving us this type of technology in the 1980's when I drove three teenagers around, and help me Lord to adapt and laugh about this someday.

Last Friday, I made an appointment with the dealership to see a new used car that matched my Want list perfectly.  I played golf that morning, enjoyed late lunch and headed to the dealership. The car I thought might be perfect, but I could not stay because the roofer was coming. I raced home to meet the roofer and discover that we do indeed meet and most likely qualify for a new roof thanks to Oklahoma weather. Then I began to ponder the cost of the car, the timing, and since Jack was out of town, how much money do I have to work with?  

That kind of thinking could only be solved by a strawberry malt with double malt from Braum's late at night.

At nine in the morning I met at the dealership to compare this car to two others that might work. Luckily, I solved my problems. The other cars did not match my needs, but doggon'it there was an important football game on TV at 11:00am. The salesman urged me to sign on the paper, but suddenly the rush of Friday and Saturday by 11am to make a decision left me blank. I knew we could afford it, but I wasn't sure how to move money around and seal the deal. I told him I would call immediately after the game. So I went home to watch the game while eating crackers and drinking water (maybe a beer would have been a better idea). My stomach churned like a hurricane in the gulf. 

"In order to reflect, think, and plan, you must quiet yourself. You can't see your reflection in churning waters. Water must be still to see your reflection."      Karen Hentze Susman, 1962 singles women champion at Wimbledon

Game over, our Sooners nearly lost after a 4th quarter meltdown (sounds like me), but they focused and pulled together to drag their fans through four overtime thrilling matches.  A sigh of relief and a call to the salesman to tell him I want the car, but need to talk about any type of reduced rate they can give me. He called me back while I was still watching Monarch butterflies in our yard. 

They sold the car when I wasn't prompt and efficient. Perhaps, I stomped and screamed out loud, as I noticed that the birds all flew from the feeders. I could not quit screaming and my stomach roared like an angry lioness.  Jack walked in from his trip just as I experienced this 'tizzy fit' of mine.

Unable to clear my mind I drove to the golf course to practice.  Along the way I prayed for help, for guidance, and for forgiveness for being so self centered. I thought of all of the people out of jobs, out of income and here I was in a selfish tizzy. 

Miracles do happen. I pulled out my 9 iron to hit some golf shots and suddenly my anger flowed down through the shaft of the club. I took proper dirt, called a divot, when I hit the shot. For the next three practice shots I took a divot.  Then I began laughing out loud, nearly doubled over on the tee box laughing at myself. That is the best I have hit a golf shot in nearly a decade. (Yes, taking a divot at contact with the golf ball shows power in the swing.) Now in hysterics in my soul, I let go of the anger, and said, "Thank you Lord for giving me this day and all of its glory."

I most certainly learned a lesson. Know exactly how much money I have to spend before I go searching for a car to purchase,  and be prepared to buy one that day. 

***

On Sunday, today, the same weekend that started on Friday with the car dealership and the roofer, my story continues as I write this blog. 

In order to find quotes that tell a short story in a few words, I search the Internet. I discovered the reflection quote, and began writing it in my favorite quote and words to live by book. The penmanship looked orderly. I wrote the author's name  Karen Hentze Sus......... When my computer turned Blue, like it had been strangled, and screamed at the top of it's volume "YOUR COMPUTER IS IN DANGER." There are no words to express my fear, frustrations, and exasperation at that moment. One miracle yesterday was more than I could ask for. I called the number and when the man began he immediately struck fear in my poor weakened gut. 

With Jack's helped he googled what was happening and I knew that a foreign property was in my computer about to do damage, but it was when the foreign voice said, "It is senior citizens like you who don't understand what a Firewall is. Let me educate you." There were spewing fireworks everywhere in my quiet studio. 

I hung up, shut down the computer, we shut off the internet connection and then I conferred with my higher power. 

"Now what? I asked the Lord. 

Then a calm like an ocean of blue came across me. Jack and I walked away from the computer, a few deep breaths and memories of oceans and calm water created a quiet mind. When I returned my computer worked just fine. The safety protocol saved me and my 'senior' mind. 

I will call Norman Nerds and ask for assurance, but I think we escaped a very nasty showdown between woman and her computer scammer. 

Feels like a Michelob Ultra wins tonight for malt in my tummy.  Cheers to a great ending. Miracles do happen. 

Thank you again dear Lord for this life, for this day, and for this moment to remember and laugh about.  

  *Thank you Kay Watts for sharing this lovely photos of Scotland coastal walkways. 

Saying Goodbye

Each room in our home is emptier now, since Lucy Girl died.  Our "Loved Dog" said her good-byes to us over a three day period of sickness from which she could not recover.

We knew, as we sat on the floor with her. We knew. She Knew.

She knew. Our time together was short, and like every day of her life and ours, we made the most of it.  Our neighbor, Julie, walked slowly with tears in her eyes after I called and said, 'please come say good-bye.' Even then Lucy shared her kisses and found one last bounce in her step for Julie.

  The Joys of our silly cow dog:

 

I once wrote that I might never have become a blogger if it hadn't been for our silly dog (click on the link to read the blog) Loosey Goosey

 

Silly, curious, like every dog, she explored her world with zest and gave us hours of laughter, stories, and memories. First Contact

She discovered the most remarkable trails in our journeys across the middle states.  Guard of the Plains

I-70 Eisenhower Interstate

Even in the garden I find it empty without her curious nose into every plant, bush, and possible rabbit trail. Always near my side she became My Shadow

sixteen stories including our good-bye. Perhaps my favorite was the most recent, as Lucy was 'OUR' companion, not just mine.  Puppy Dog Love

Today, I sat alone in the closet pulling on my walking shoes. Her nose was not there sniffing my shoes, pawing at me to hurry. "Hurry,  let's go walking and exploring."

 So a toast to Lucy....I will think of you each time I put on those old walking shoes. I will look for you under my feet. I will look for you following Jack from the Kitchen to the table. I will miss you at Jack's side. I will look for you in the 'man cave' keeping an eye on Jack, an eye on me, and an eye on the front door. Our great protector is gone.  

 

 Now, we will see her among the flowers. 

 *RIP Lucy Girl, September 10, 2020

Other Lucy blogs: 

First Contact on Becoming a Dog

...And My Shadow

Thunder Is Not Just a Basketball Team

The New Addition--Scooter