Comparisons

"Comparison is the thief of joy."  That's one of my favorite quotes.  It's so true.  You can be feeling on top of the world, but there will always be someone who does better than you, who looks better than you, who feels better about themselves than you.  Next thing you know, there goes your joy!  This is just one good reason to not concern yourself too much with what others are doing.  You're only seeing the surface, anyway.  They probably have issues, too.

The one exception to this comparison theory is the TV show "Hoarders."  I am currently watching episode after episode of the show, and it makes me happy.  These people really make me feel good about my housekeeping skills.  I feel bad for them, most of them, anyway.  Some of them are just so hateful.  I do not have issues like theirs, though.

To be honest, I've not always been a good housekeeper.  In recent years, I have gotten a handle on it.  I no longer live in fear of someone showing up unexpectedly.  My house is relatively presentable all of the time now, just don't look in my bedroom or bathroom.  Earlier, I was feeling bad about the clean laundry that is folded and stacked in my room.  I need to put it all away.  Then, I turned on "Hoarders," and ta-da!  I don't feel so bad, anymore!  Comparison: the source of joy.  It's all perspective.

Delete files.

Memory.  It's a funny thing.  As I am getting older, I am noticing my lack of memory more and more.  I often wish there was a way to throw out the useless information that is stored up in my brain to make room for more important things.

How many phone numbers do you have stored in your instant recall?  Five?  Ten?  More?  Cell phones have been the ruination of phone number recall.  If you lost your phone and needed to call someone for help, would you know anyone's number by heart?  Chances are, you would remember a few people's numbers.  They would most likely be the ones that have had the same phone number for many, many years... as in, before cell phones.

My brain has managed to retain phone numbers from my childhood that are useless to me now.  For instance, my grandma's number ended in 3347.  My close friend's number was 8664.  Here's a sampling of just a few of the numbers I can recall from my childhood.  If you've been in my life that long, you might recognize your number here.

6026
4331
4905
8339
9666
6242
7537
7417
4431
1240
3092

Those are just the ones that instantly come to mind for me.  I could tell you the name associated with every one of those, too.  Some of them are the most random people.  Now, ask me to list five of my friends' current phone numbers.  I couldn't do it.

Wouldn't it be nice if there was a delete button for our brains?  I could go in and delete these useless old phone numbers and maybe remember why I came into the room.

And these are the random ramblings of my brain for today.  :)

When you know the goodbye is coming.

I've never been sure if I would want to know that the end of my life was nearing.  There are pros and cons.  You can live with a new kind of intention when you truly feel your own mortality.  Most of us don't live like our days are numbered.  We know they're numbered, but we assume that the number is still a pretty big number.  There's not a sense of urgency to life.  In some ways, that's a nice thing.  I don't know if my mind could bear the weight of such knowledge.

I mowed the yard this evening.  I really dislike the heat, the dirt, and the bugs of mowing, but I'm learning to love the solitude of it.  When I mow, I plug into my music and my thoughts.  It's one of those rare occasions that I embrace my thoughts.  I usually spend a good amount of time praying, too.  I don't know.  It's just a good time to be alone.  The dull roar of the motor behind the eclectic mix of tunes in my earbuds makes for a strangely relaxing mood.

Tonight, my thoughts turned to a dear friend that is facing a very poor cancer prognosis.  I'm sure he's feeling the gravity of the ticking clock.  I'm sure he's wishing he felt well enough to really enjoy the moments he has left on this earth.  I have a desire to go and take some pictures of him and with him while I can.  I started to reflect tonight on the fact that I don't have a memory of life without him in it.  He and his family have been a part of my life since before I have memories.  When I think of that, the tears fall unbidden down my cheeks.  Free-flowing tears.  I'm realizing that I may have to know life without him much sooner than I had ever imagined.  And like a little girl, I cry.  I'm not ready to lose him.

As most moments in my life do, this one brings to mind a song.  Patty Loveless released this song many years ago.  It made me cry then for the general emotion of the song.  It makes me cry now for the preparation to say goodbye to a loved one.  "It's okay to hurt, and it's okay to cry...."

How Can I Help You Say Goodbye? by Patty Loveless

Through the back window of our '59 wagon
I watched my best friend Jamie slippin' further away
I kept on wavin' till I couldn't see her
And through my tears I asked again why we couldn't stay

Mama whispered softly, "Time will ease your pain
Life's about changing, nothing ever stays the same."

And she said, "How can I help you to say goodbye?
It's okay to hurt, and it's okay to cry.
Come let me hold you, and I will try.
How can I help you to say goodbye?"...........

........
Sittin' with Mama, alone in her bedroom
She opened her eyes and then squeezed my hand
She said, "I have to go now.  My time here is over."
And with her final words she tried to help me understand.

Mama whispered softly, "Time will ease your pain.
Life's about changing, nothing ever stays the same."

And she said, "How can I help you to say goodbye?
It's okay to hurt, and it's okay to cry.
Come let me hold you, and I will try.
How can I help you to say goodbye?"

Listen to the full song here.

Being important is not so important.

I've noticed something disturbing.  Most everyone these days fancies themselves a person of importance.  Don't get me wrong.  I know each and every person is important in their own way.  I just think we all think we're way too important.  My opinion is important.  Validation from others tells me so.

Last night, I logged off of Facebook.  I wanted to actually deactivate my account, but that would have meant losing my business page, too, and I didn't want to go that far.  I typed up a post to let my "friends" know that I wouldn't be on there for a while.  I don't know how long I'll stay off.  I admit that I want to go on and see if anyone has commented on or liked that post.  I've done this in the past, and it usually doesn't last more than a week or so.  It's a good test of one's priorities, though.

You wouldn't believe how many times in the last 24 hours I have had an urge to post a thought or what I'm doing.  How ridiculous is that?!?  Am I really so important as to think others are waiting to hear what I have to say?  Am I really so insecure as to need someone to comment or agree with what I have to say?  When did I become so needy?  That's not at all who I am.  I am determined to stay off until this urge to share isn't so second-nature.

You might say, "Well, what do you think a blog is?" and that's a valid point.  The difference is I have about two followers on here, and I rarely get a comment.  And I'm okay with that.  This is more of an outlet for me.  That's a healthy thing for my busy brain.

I enjoy many things about "social" media.  I use that term very loosely, since I believe it makes us decidedly less social in real life.  I enjoy catching up with friends and family that I would otherwise not see.  I like seeing everyone's personal pictures.  I'm a picture lover.  I do enjoy hearing what people are up to.  I'm just tired of seeing the same old "memes" making their rounds.  For anyone that doesn't know what a meme is, it's a picture with some kind of phrase on it.  Right now, you can find hundreds about the confederate flag, gay marriage, and a countless list of other hot topics.  There are ones in favor and against all issues.  Honestly, I like some people better when I don't know where they fall on certain issues.  I know that's a terrible way to be, but it's how I am.  I don't want to judge them.  That's easier done when I know less of their personal beliefs.  My newsfeed is also full of recipes.  I love a good recipe, but that's why I have Pinterest.  Okay.  So Facebook just isn't working for me, anymore.

I think it's important to look at why I want to share my life with others, especially the casual observers that aren't actually my friends in real life.  I think it's an easy way to make yourself think you have friends that aren't really friends.  If so-and-so likes my post, they must like me, too.  Right?  Wrong.  Again, I'm just not that important.

It's time to figure out what is really important to me.  Being important isn't important.

A piece of my heart.

If you know me really well, you know that I have a tender heart.  I'm a deeply compassionate person.  The pain and struggles of others affects me.  It's not always convenient or pleasant, but I wouldn't want to be any other way.

My previous post was inspired by a song by Joey & Rory.  In finding that song, I found a blog by Rory, the husband in this singing duet.  I knew of them before, but I knew little about them.  I'm wishing now that I had found them long ago.  The most recent entries in his blog chronicle Joey's relapse of cancer.  It's heart-breaking and inspiring.  I am so touched when a man can freely share his emotions like Rory does.  I'm in awe of their relationship with each other and God.

When I find something that grabs my heart like this couple's story, I feel compelled to share it.  I think it would be selfish not to share it.  If it can affect me in such a way to make me hurt and pray and hope for strangers, it might do the same for you.  And that, my friends, is called being a part of this human race.  We should feel for one another and share in each other's trials and triumphs.

Join me in praying for this little family.  Listen to a beautiful song written by the couple here.  And read Rory's blog here.

Does anyone have a soapbox handy??

Sometimes, a song comes into your life, and its impact is felt immediately.  So it was when I heard this song for the first time yesterday.  My parents did not ever use a belt on me, but there was always the chance that they might resort to that if the behavior called for it.  I respected and feared them for that.  The Bible was taught to me from such an early age that I cannot remember life without it.  My parents read scripture and a devotion to us every night before bed.  The Daily Bread.  The three of us kids would be in our beds with our lights out, and my parents would stand in the hallway between our rooms with the hall light on.  My mother would read the devotion, and my dad would pray when she was done.  We feared the Lord and trusted that His word was The Truth.

I watch a lot of court shows.  Call it a guilty pleasure of mine.  I've actually learned quite a bit over the years.  There seems to be a recurring theme among many of the cases, though.  There's a lack of taking responsibility for one's actions.  Time after time, litigants will argue that something is not their fault.  They cast the blame off onto someone else or just flatly deny wrongdoing.  The most alarming pattern I've seen is parents making excuses for their children's bad behavior.  Gee, I wonder why the kids are behaving badly in the first place?  If my parents had been willing to shift blame off onto someone else every time I did something wrong, I would have tried to get away with all kinds of nonsense.  Why not?

Our world is becoming filled with people willing to accept any excuse for someone's bad choices.  How can we ever expect to be respected and feared, as a country, if we allow lame excuses to rule public sway?  We need to declare what we stand for and stick to it if we are to be the great country we once were.  We cannot be swayed by every group with an agenda that gets offended by the convictions upon which our country was founded.

Okay.  You can have your soapbox back....for now.

Click here to listen to this wonderful song.

A Bible and A Belt by Joey & Rory

They were both made of leather
both black and frayed and worn
I was brought up to respect them
since the day that I was born
One came here from England
it's been handed down for years
The other one was ordered
from a catalog at Sears

One my momma read to me
'til I was well into my teens
And I thought all the other one was for
was to hold up Daddy's jeans
'Til I told a lie and learned
it had another purpose too
out behind the shed my Daddy said
"This'll hurt me more than you."

Cause one had my daddy's name on it
The other said "King James"
With love they taught us lessons
but we feared them both the same
One led us to Heaven
and the other left a welt
Those were the days when kids were raised
with a Bible and a belt.

I remember when I was twelve
I stole a dime store comic book
and how Momma read where the scripture said
to take back what I took
When I refused, my daddy grabbed
my arm and said, "Come on"
I needed more, he knew, than just
Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John

Well sometimes they made me cry
Sometimes they made me fightin' mad
and I'd wish I'd been raised without them
like some other children had
But now I'm grown with kids of my own
and I know just how they felt
You know, it seems to me what the world still needs
is a Bible and a belt

Cause one had my daddy's name on it
The other said "King James"
With love they taught us lessons
but we feared them both the same
One led us to Heaven
and the other hurt like Hell
Those were the days when kids were raised
with a Bible and a belt.