The Thinker

Her name was used in the Bible, in the Psalms. It is placed  at the end of some of them, as emphasis, I believe. I've read that it means 'meditate on this'.  Since the word is also a musical term, meaning 'pause', it must mean that something is worthy of the time it takes to pause and think about it.  The word, the term, her name is Selah.

This child, who is not yet eight years old, has always been unique in many of her ways. She was never one to sleep much. She'd sleep only when she was being held, and then just for a few minutes. If she was put down, she'd immediately waken, and her eyes would be wide open, as though she was concerned that she'd miss something important.  Sometimes she would just stare into the air, making us wonder what she might be thinking about. As she grew, she would mull over everything anyone would say to her, and ask one question after another, until her curiosity seemed to be satisfied.

At an early age, before she could write, she would compose stories,verbally.  Once she'd gathered the skills necessary to put words on paper, she would sit at the table, writing and erasing, thinking, editing, rewriting. I was amazed at her ability to put her stories together in legible form, with beginning, content and ending, and very little wandering. She often surprised us with the subject matter of her compositions and conversations. It often felt as if we were dealing with a tiny adult person with a mind far more advanced than our own.

This child is a thinker, there is no doubt. She's proved that to us again and again.  The other day, she rocked me to the greatest degree ever, since her birth.  She had this conversation with her mother. Her lines begin with the "S"...her Mom is the "E".  

Kathleen Beebe Waygood

Conversation between daughter Erinne, and granddaughter, Selah

S: I have it figured out.
E: You're not even 8. What have you got figured out?
S: All of it
...E: I'm 40 and I haven't got it figured out. Can you teach me?
S: Well, yes. See, all of time is a chapter book.
E: Yes?
S: And each year gets it's own chapter. We're on chapter 2011.
E: Okay, I follow.
S: And each day gets its own page.
E: I love this.
S: And we just have to keep reading until God stops writing.

Yes...Selah is a thinker.... and a deep one.  I believe that she has got it all figured out.

"

Family Reunions...

Lately I've been thinking about family reunions.  Not the 'small' ones like families who gather for birthdays, but those bigger ones.  I read about them all the time, where three or four generations of cousins, aunts, uncles, etc. get together for a grand old time of remembrance and family stories.

I have, in the past, planned two reunions. They were smaller than some families do. One was for the descendants of my grandparents, my Mother being the matriarch, her children, our children, and theirs.
It went pretty well, except for a few episodes of stories being told that embarressed some of the kids.
The other party was a camping weekend, which included Mike and I, our kids and theirs. One of my brothers attended, as did Mom, but they didn't camp out, choosing instead to visit for the afternoon and dinner. 

That party didn't work out as well. It could have been that everyone was lacking in enough sleep, I don't know, but it seemed that people were all on edge with each other. There was some ornery behavior in a few, resulting in one family leaving early, and I don't blame them. If I'd been spoken to by that brother in that way, I'd have left too...or better yet, asked him to leave. They were all adults, but there were moments  when those two acted like little boys.   As for the adults, the eldest were Mike and I, and somehow the younger parents thought we should be the ones to cook for them, and clean up too, while they all went to the beach or to the playground or for a walk.  It was the plan that each family would bring their own food, and prepare it for their families, and we'd all eat together. Eventually, when we were asked "what's for breakfast?" I got the point across by responding, "I don't know, what are you cooking for your bunch?" 

Maybe a camping weekend wasn't the best idea for so many. We've done some weekends with family members at other times, and it's gone fine...but this time we had included other, 'strangers' (I say that because we don't know them well. )  Perhaps that was the difficulty.  Whatever it was, there won't be another reunion that is so lengthy.  In fact, with thoughts of that weekend, there may NEVER be another...not if I have to plan it! It is a lot of work to organize, and you just never know what's going to happen. The work wouldn't be an issue if you came away thinking, "Boy! That was worth every minute of the effort!" But when you get to the other side of the gathering, and come away feeling disappointed,
you might not be inclined to try it again.

I guess, only time will tell.

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Looking For A Sign

Whenever I'm in the car, I look at the signs in front of churches.  Some of them are humorous, some are serious, some are double intendres. All of them catch my interest.

In the dreadful heat of this summer, I saw a sign that read, " If you think it's hot here, you don't want to try Hell."  Well, no, I sure don't, and years ago, I made sure that Hades wouldn't be my permanent resting place! Another on the same subject said, "Stop, Drop and Roll" won't work in Hell.  Now, those are what I call 'heavy' messages, and serious ones, at that.  Hell-fire for all eternity is not my idea of a joke.

A sign, relating to the fierce heat of our area, gave me a chuckle. It said, "Come inside. Our church is 'prayer conditioned.'   Cute, and hopefully, true!  Another let me know that, "God answers Knee Mail".
And then, there are those that use abbreviations, followed by meanings, such as "ATM inside...Atonement, Truth and Mercy."   Another says, "P,U.S.H... Pray Until Something Happens."

There are various other messages pinned up on the signs outside of the churches everywhere.  I'm sure they strike people in the same ways people do when they hear a verbal message.  If they have a sense of humor, they will smile or laugh at the comical. If they are very serious, they will relate more to the less funny words. If they are hard-hearted folks, they won't want to respond at all, or at least not in a positive manner.  I guess, some of us will allow the opinions and messages of others to affect us  and  others will not.

As for me, I'm always looking for a sign.

The Man Clan

When we moved here, there were a number of guys in the neighborhood who would come by whenever they'd see Mike in the yard or on the front porch. He couldn't get a lot done, if he was attempting to shovel or rake or weed or mow. Mike was brought up to believe that you should look at someone when they are speaking to you, and pay attention, so if someone stopped by, the work stopped.

It wasn't long before I pinned a nickname on these buddies. "The Man Clan" is what I called them. Sometimes they'd sit on the porch for hours with Mike, chattering and laughing. As frustrating as it was that our landscaping wasn't getting done, I was glad that the guys were getting to know Mike and he was making new friends. You know how it is...when a new person moves into the neighborhood, everyone is curious about them.  In a subdivision that's brand new, noone knows anyone, so they make a point of trying to get to know their neighbors, at least that's how it happened here. Things have settled down a bit, and the neighborhood has had some changes. Some people have already moved out, due to loss of job or other changes in their lives. New people have moved in, but the newness has worn off. The Man Clan has slimmed down to a few and their visits are less often than they were, with each of them settled into their own life's business and work.

This morning some of these guys are off to have breakfast together. Every now and then, I wish I could be a fly on the wall!  What do they talk about? Do they gripe about us wives, or maybe they praise us? Or do they talk about other people in the neighborhood? Sports?  What do guys talk about?!  I try to disappear when one of them is around, other than to say a few words of greeting. After all, guys need their time together, just as women do. Sometimes when there's one of them on the porch, I'll hear them comparing recipes like two old women! They sometimes rib each other about something. Sometimes they are seriously discussing politics or a show on the history channel or some local news story.  Depending upon who it is, there might be the tossing back and forth of military experiences.   I guess that's what they talk about...'guy stuff.'

I hope The Man Clan will enjoy themselves this morning. It's a good break for them from their routine lives of family and work. I tease them all about their comradarie, but they know that I'm just razzing them. I'm really blessed that they have each other.... just as I am to have the women friends I've made.

It all comes down to this, people need people  whether the relationship is called family, friends, acquaintances or 'The Man Clan."

Thankful...

My blogger friend at  Blessing the Elements invited us to blog about something for which we have Gratitude. If you are interested in her blogs, see my followers and click on the one which says 'Blessings of a Wildflower" as her name on the picture. It'll carry you to her blog.  Here is my offering:

Is my heart full of gratitude? For sure!   'Why?' you might ask. I can tell you, quickly...and with certainty, if you've got a moment.

I am flooded with gratitude when I think about the fact that I am alive and well. Years ago I was sick, for nearly a year, and no tests results had a cause for it. To this day the only thing they've come up with was 'you must have had a pelvic infection, at some point, leaving the web of scar tissue that caused you such abdominal pain."  I've learned to live with the unknown cause and the vague diagnosis.

But, because of all that testing and mystery of cause, I saw one doctor after another, finally seeing another gynocolgist who took a fecal testing. Never before had I had the painless test, but I'm glad this doctor did it. I had occult blood in the sample.  From there, I was sent to a proctologist for a discussion and a scheduling of a colonoscopy. (yeah, I know...such fun.)  Actually, the prep drink was the worst part of it, and the test was a breeze, sleeping through the procedure, and waking a short time later with no after effects.  The doctor's news wasn't wonderful, however. I'd had a couple of  polyps, which were removed and one was sent for biopsy. It looked as if there was a small, new cancer growing on one of them.  When the word came back, that was exactly what happened.

It wasn't a problem. It was so new that it hadn't had a chance to grow into the intestine or cause any trouble. With the polyp removed, it wouldn't cause me any, but I was told to be diligent in having routine colonoscopies in the future.  So,  another appointment was made for three years later. That one came up free of any growths of any kind.

Since then, I have followed Dr.'s orders and have had my colon scoped on schedule when they tell me I should. If no polyps are found, it's every 5 years. If there are polyps, they are removed, and I return in three years.  All is well in that area, and there's been no more cancer scares.

So, I have a heartful of flowing gratitude. I am grateful for the year of abdominal pain, because it led me from doctor to doctor, until I had a test that saved my life.  I am grateful for the medical technology, invasive and otherwise that finds and saves lives.I am thankful for the prayers of many friends who took my name and my mysterious ailment before the Throne of Grace.  I am grateful that God watched over me and kept me safe, and I am thankful that I am here to tell you this story, so that you,too, might heed a warning and have your testing done. I am grateful that you are reading this, and hopeful that you will run, and not walk, to your telephone to arrange for your appointment. The life you save may be your own!

Great Grandma Rackett

Again, I write about a woman whose blood flows through my veins. This time it is my maternal Great-Grandmother.  She was born in Nantucket, Mass., the daughter of Henry Fisher and Maria Chase. She met Clinton Rackett, who was a fisherman from East Marion, Long Island, and moved to that little community in New York state.

I think of what it must have been like to move away from all she knew, to begin a brand new life as a young wife in a new area.  There must have been a strong resolve and an even stronger love for the man, to leave everything behind. East Marion might have felt somewhat familiar to her, since both Nantucket and Long Island are surrounded by water, and in those days, many of the men worked the sea as a way of life. The air in both places would have smelled salty, and weather conditions would have been somewhat similar as well.

There are photos that show the home that was built by GrGrandpa Rackett, for his family. I'm not sure when it was built, but it stood fairly early in their marriage. It stood close to the Community church, but across the street on the Main Road. It was taken down many years later, but I never had the chance to see the building.  I'm told that GrGramma Rackett kept an immaculate house and yard.  Even the outhouse had starched and ironed white curtains hanging in the window!  There was a garden, a cherry tree, a picket fenced yard.  My Grandmother was married there, in the garden.

Not only was GrGrandmother a woman who took good care of her home and four children, she was also a good business woman, I'm told.  Her husband died in the early 1900's, leaving her alone to raise the youngest child, my Grandmother. She took on the his fishing fleet business, keeping it running in fine order.  How these female old timers got all the household chores done and ran businesses to support the families, is beyond me.  

I was a working woman, but my housekeeping was none too good. I gave up my baking, except for an occasional batch of cookies. I had to let some things go and organize other things when I went to work. But, the women of old couldn't do that. Baking, sewing, laundry, mending, gardening, cooking, canning, cleaning (including beating room sized rugs!), etc. could not be not be overlooked. They didn't have take-out food or frozen, pre-made meals to pop in the oven. They had   to do that work.  Taking on the bookkeeping, records, payroll and other matters relating to running a fishing fleet was a time consuming endeavor. I don't know how she did it.

GrGrandma's obituary tauts her as a 'pillar of the church'. I know she was a woman of faith, but apparently she was quite involved in the women's ministries of the time. I'm sure that involved meeting the needs of other women, widows and orphans. Besides muscle and determination, she apparently was blessed with a compassionate heart. Perhaps it was her faith that gave her the strength she needed to keep going and to accomplish all that she did.

Our ancestors were not wimps. They were hard workers. They knew there was nobody to do the work but themselves, and they did what was necessary.  We could learn much from these family members. They were pretty good examples.

Sometimes it pays to look back so that we know how to move forward.