THURSDAY, MAY 27, 2021 A SIDE TRIP - DALE CARNEGIE

 THURSDAY, MAY 27, 2021 A SIDE TRIP - DALE CARNEGIE

Over the years, I’ve heard of the “Dale Carnegie Course’.

Yesterday, I found this and wanted to share it with you.

*****

Dale Carnegie’s Six Ways To Make People Like You are invaluable.

They are:

1. Become genuinely interested in other people.

2. Smile

3. Remember that a person’s name is to that person the sweetest and most important sound in any language.

4. Be a good listener. Encourage others to talk about themselves.

5. Talk in terms of the other person’s interests.

6. Make the other person feel important—and do it sincerely.

*****

Let’s look at the points in some detail.

.1 BE GENUINELY INTERESTED IN OTHER PEOPLE.  

There are some people that I instantly like and that seem to like me.  

We all have stories on our journey through life, and I like to hear the journeys and share the trip with them.  When I meet somebody new, I might ask where they are from, what they do for a living.  

Aside, sometimes this is hard.  When I substitute taught this year and I was in a room of 20 eighth graders, I tried to know their names, but that was hard.  There was a stretch where I was with the same group for six days, and I did get to know their names and a little about them - were they in sports, music, thinking of going to college.  

There was a new lady playing granny basketball the other day.  I did introduce myself, but I know in the future we’ll get to know each other.  There is a new person at my apartment complex and I will get to know her some.

My knowledge and wanting to know something about the person (at least to me), is not being a ‘busybody”, but a friend.  Maybe we had some shared experiences or common likes.  The Oklahoma speaker, Will Rogers said “I never met a man I didn’t like”.  Unfortunately, there are those that I have met that might not share that sentiment.  That is when I need to apply LOVE WINS.

.2 SMILE

I hear a speaker say “A smile is a way of disarming another person”.  In the last two weeks, my mask has been worn less and my smile is more prevalent - and my smile is more visible.

Or “Let a Smile Be Your Umbrella on a Rainy, Rainy Day” (song by Bing Crosby)

.3 REMEMBER THAT A PERSON’S NAME IS TO THAT PERSON THE SWEETEST AND MOST IMPORTANT SOUND IN ANY LANGUAGE.

I lack at doing this.  Maybe too many names over too many years of too many students.  When I taught, I prided myself on getting to know the students in the first two weeks.  I had my students fill out information index cards, and I worked on them like flashcards!!!

.4 BE A GOOD LISTENER. ENCOURAGE OTHERS TO TALK ABOUT THEMSELVES.

I’ve called this ‘active’ listening in the past.  Listen, really listen.  As the adage goes, God gave us two ears and only one mouth, so we should listen at least twice as much as we talk!!!

.5 TALK IN TERMS OF THE OTHER PERSON’S INTERESTS.

 

To do so, you really need to know the other person.  Are they grandparents?  Where are their children and grandchildren?  Do they get to see them so?  Where do they live?  What are their hobbies and interests?

.6 MAKE THE OTHER PERSON FEEL IMPORTANT—AND DO IT SINCERELY.

Make it more than just lip service, make it genuine, authentic, and wholehearted.

If you want to have a friend, you have to be one.  Being a friend, being somebody who relates well does take time and effort.  Yes, you can use index cards, write down what you know.  

*****

The best things in life are friends - and you need to be a good friend!!!  Do unto others are you would have them do to you.  Love one another.  LOVE WINS!!

Hugs!!

Karen

WEDNESDAY, MAY 26, 2021 - The Blind loving the Blind

WEDNESDAY, MAY 26, 2021

First a minor detour - my Grammarly statistics from last week.

I was more productive than 98% of Grammarly users

I was more accurate than 89% of Grammarly users

I used 95% more unique words than other Grammarly users

The “tones” Grammarly detected

Confident - 30%  (up 9% from last week)

Friendly - 21% (the same)

Optimistic - 13% (down 3%)

Informal - 9% (up 5%)

Disapproving - 8%  (up 8% - my goodness, I don’t want to be disapproving)

Admiring - 8% (up 3%)

Joyful - 6% (down 1%)

Note to self - I still make too many mistakes - especially with commas!!!

*****

It was seven years ago now.  I had been on an accreditation trip to Florida and was returning to Texas.  But, as happens, the flight from Tallahassee was delayed two hours and when I got to Atlanta (flying Delta), the flight back to Texas had left with no more flights until the next day.

Because it was a mechanical problem, we were put up in a hotel near the Atlanta airport, and given vouchers for food.  There was a young man -maybe in his mid 20s that rode the shuttle to the hotel.  We struck up a conversation.  He was from Watertown, South Dakota, and I had been at Dakota State in Madison for 18 years.   But, nobody was next to him on the shuttle.  I don’t know the exact issue, but the young man’s face was terribly disfigured.  Maybe he was born this way, maybe he had been in a fight or a fire or some other event.  

People shied away from the man because of his face.  His brain was good, he was smart, but people were avoiding him because of his appearance.  

I’ve thought of this over the years.  Do I shy away from a black person, from an ugly person, from a person of a distinctly different appearance than me?  While the adage is “birds of a feather flock together” and people and birds tend to allow only similar people into their social group.  

*****

There is a concept called “Lookism”

Lookism is a term that describes the discriminatory treatment of people who are considered physically unattractive. It occurs in a variety of settings, including dating, social environments, and workplaces.

This young man was hard to look at - honestly.  I was trying to befriend him for the short interaction on the shuttle bus because of the airline's mechanical problem.

I can only imagine the pain and separation that he has suffered through.  My brain is pushing me into statistics and in particular to bell curve analysis.  If you remember the bell curve analysis, there are very few people at either end of a large population.  In this case, maybe 1 or 2% are really beautiful on the outside. On the other end, 1 or 2% of the people are really ugly on the outside.  The bell curve suggests there are some nice looking and some not so nice looking people, and most of us are in the middle.

Now cosmetic people want to suggest we can improve our looks.  Ladies have had make-up for years, (I’m still learning some basic techniques).  There are those who can do amazing things with hair - from color to tints, to style; then make-up - blush, mascara, eyebrows, lipstick (we haven’t seen much of that for a year of mask-wearing).  

Then we have clothes that also can improve our looks.  As a male professor, I wore ties most days.   As a woman, my closet is full and as most women can tell you, I “just don’t have anything to wear” - which I think is for the specific day or event.  

[Aside, last Sunday I wanted to wear a red dress.  I have four red dresses, and I tried all of them on before deciding.  To me, some were too short (for going to church), I think senior women should have their knees covered; one was to blah - a nice red house-dress, but not a church dress.  

And, an additional note here.  Maybe 50% of my clothes have been given to me - women are very generous - then another 40% were from thrift shops, and the last 10% were things I really bought.

There was a television show “What Not to Wear” where the hosts took a lady and found clothes that changed her style and did make-up and it was a significant change.  

Back to the young man in the airport.  I don’t know his circumstances.  Maybe his appearance was from a recent accident and plans are being made to do some plastic surgery.  Maybe he doesn’t have the funds to do a major make-over.  

From Isaiah 53 we have this:

“There was nothing beautiful or majestic about his appearance, nothing to attract us to him. He was despised and rejected—a man of sorrows, acquainted with deepest grief. We turned our backs on him and looked the other way. He was despised, and we did not care.”

From the body language of others in the airport, this young man was like that - nothing beautiful or majestic about his appearance - a man of sorrows, acquainted with grief.  

Back to life - LOVE WINS means loving everybody - beautiful or ugly.  Our exterior image is not our interior beauty.  

Note to me, I still need to work on LOVING everybody.  

HUGS!!!

Karen

May 26, 2021

TUESDAY, MAY 25, CRAZY FRIENDS

 TUESDAY, MAY 25, 2021 FRIENDS 

Do you have some crazy friends?  Like real crazy?

I want a scriptural basis on this, so from Mark 2 we have

“When Jesus returned to Capernaum several days later, the news spread quickly that he was back home. Soon the house where he was staying was so packed with visitors that there was no more room, even outside the door. While he was preaching God’s word to them, four men arrived carrying a paralyzed man on a mat. They couldn’t bring him to Jesus because of the crowd, so they dug a hole through the roof above his head. Then they lowered the man on his mat, right down in front of Jesus. Seeing their faith, Jesus said to the paralyzed man, “My child, your sins are forgiven.” Then Jesus turned to the paralyzed man and said, “Stand up, pick up your mat, and go home!” And the man jumped up, grabbed his mat, and walked out through the stunned onlookers. They were all amazed and praised God, exclaiming, “We’ve never seen anything like this before!”

So, four crazy friends really loved their other friend (the paralyzed one here).  They had heard that Jesus healed everybody.  But, it wasn’t going to be easy to see Jesus.  Think about meeting a United States President (anyone, no political nature here).  The President is surrounded by secret service police and bodyguards [aside, and I know one of them].  So, if I want to say “Hi” to the President, I can’t just call 1-800-PRS-DENT and say “Hi (insert name), I know you are going to be in Austin next week, I’d like to shake your hand and say hi”!!!  

My call would be treated as a crank call.  Who is this Karen White, and why does she really want to see the President?  I’m not sure I could get past the first clearance check, and then if they really investigated me and found out my past, I’m guessing I’d be put on the “Kook-list”, and the FBI would really dig into my past.  (FBI Agent 1:  This kook used to be a college professor, then retired and became a woman, and goes around espousing that ‘love wins’ - sounds like a real nut case to me!!) 

And, if I was somehow passed in the analysis, I would have such a thorough body search for weapons before I got within 100 feet of the President.

*****

So, here - a much more (at least in my opinion), the person was having a rally in his hometown.  Everybody who was anybody had gotten tickets (probably no tickets), to the event.  He seemed to be at a private home, not the local church or synagogue, and it was standing room only.  Darn.

Ben Jair (a made-up name) was kind of the leader of this group of friends.  (Maybe TF or LMG).

Abram “Hey Guys, this place is full, no way can we bring our friend Tuvya to see Jesus.”

Ben, pondering this for a minute, “Guys, I’ve got an idea.  Go get some tools - a couple of saws, hammers, shovels, ropes - and meet back here in 15 minutes.”

Abram “Are you crazy?”

Ben “Maybe a little!! <smiling>

In 15 minutes, the group was back together and climbed the back stairs to the house.  

Ben, “We’re going to make a hole in the roof” (again his friends saying “Are you nuts”) and lower Karen-Beth down.”

Ben walked around the roof.  He selected a spot near the northwest corner of the roof for the digging where the debris falling inside would not likely hurt anybody inside.  

The group dug for about twenty minutes, with Karen-Beth on her mat next to the digging.  Soon small chunks of the roof/ceiling were dropping on furniture in the corner.  Peter interrupted Jesus and said, “Hey Jesus, there seems to be some problem with the roof, maybe it is caving in”.  Jesus smiled and said, “It’s okay Peter”.

In a few more minutes, the four friends each grabbed the end of a rope and proceeded to lower Karen-Beth down into the room.  There were gasps, and quiet acclamations (who knows, maybe the audience was saying ‘OMG” (Oh My God), as the map with Karen-Beth was lowered into the room.  

The rest, of course, is written down, Jesus says “Your sins are forgiven, rise up and walk”, and Karen-Beth stood up, gave Jesus a big hug, and yelled “Thanks Guys” to the four on the roof.  

(I think Jesus may have come outside with Karen-Beth and greeted the four friends. And, the next morning the five of them (the four friends and Karen-Beth) were back on the roof, fixing it up!!!)

*****

Do you have such crazy friends that would do this?  Do you have such crazy friends that love you and want you to be healed and healthy?  

*****

Sometimes, like a lot of people, I get down on myself. “Nobody loves me, I guess I’ll go eat dirt”, but I know I have great (and crazy) friends like in the story, plus Jesus.  

So, what might it be like to be one of the crazy friends?  Can you go against the grain and find a way for your sick friend to get in to see the President?  (or to see God in the flesh?)

In my upcoming years, I want to be a crazy friend, I want to support my friends with love and encouragement, with prayer and intercessions.  But, I’m going to have to change my own life and attitude to be such a friend.

My friends, LOVE WINS!!!  Let us love one another today!!!

HUGS!!!

Karen

MONDAY, MAY 24, 2021 “CAN SOMEBODY HELP ME”

 MONDAY, MAY 24, 2021 “CAN SOMEBODY HELP ME”

When my parents moved into an assisted living facility (and greatly enjoyed it), there was a gentleman in an apartment across the hall.  His day consisted of sitting in his wheelchair in the hallway and saying to anybody who walked up or down the hall, “Can somebody help me?”.  

Now, this was an excellent assisted living facility  There were sufficient nurses and aides.  The meals were good, there were activities appropriate for the age level (bingo, sing-a-long, worship services, exercises, and more).  

I’m sure this gentleman got attention throughout the day.  

Maybe his mind was slipping from assisted living into a dementia living environment.  

I asked an aide and was told he had a son that never visited his family, and just paid the bills.  He had the necessities of life - shelter, warmth, meals, clothes, medical attention, but was missing out on attention and love. (My bias, I did not inquire into the actual case as to why the son never visited.  For all, I know the son did love his father and did call and visit when he could, but because he was stationed in Afghanistan or some location, his physical presence was limited. ).

Somehow, over a period of time, his rare call “Can somebody help me” - such as can somebody help put on my socks and shoes, or can somebody help me get to the toilet, became a mantra - maybe like the clerk at a story, who says “Have a nice day” to customers as they check out.  That clerk may say her message “Have a nice day” to hundreds of customers in a day.  It is not very meaningful, it probably isn’t that the clerk wants or even cares if the customer HAS a nice day.  It is a message that says “I’m done, next customer please”.  

(Aside, I’m trying to gain eye contact with check-out clerks and then say “Have a blessed day” in a happy, cheery voice.  It might be just enough different than “Have a nice day”.  With establishing eye contact, the clerk just might feel “blessed” - that somebody does care if she has a real nice (aka “blessed”) day.  

Yes, we all get into our routines - our ruts.  When I substitute taught the last few months I said a cheery “Good Morning”, and generally got a “Good Morning” back.  This elderly gentleman had over time, fallen into his routine “Can anybody help me”, but, if I am interrupting the actions of another, didn’t really need any help, other than attention.

How about some humor at this point. Picture this as a cartoon. A man fell over a cliff and somehow managed to grab the only handhold - a bare root.  He is holding on for his life.  He has managed a look down, where there are jagged rocks and sure death.  And, his hold on the root is starting to slip.  He yells “Can anybody help me?”.  After a few minutes, a voice answers him.

“Hello, this is God.  What can I help you with”.

The man explains the help he needs to God, and finishes with “Can you help me”.

Again, God’s booming voice answers.  “Let go of the tree root”.

That is not the answer he wants, and after a few more seconds, he started yelling again, “Is there anybody else that can help me?”  

<end>

The man just couldn’t let go of the tree root, it was all he had.  His rational mind said ‘if I let go of the tree root, I will die. 

Sometimes we might mentally yell “Can anybody help me?” - but we are only going to accept the perfect answer - like a helicopter, or a sudden deposit of a million dollars in our bank account.  

Maybe letting go of the tree root IS the ONLY solution that works.  Maybe there is something we don’t see when we look down, as years of autumn leaves waiting at the bottom of the cliff that will cushion my fall, but we can’t see them.  Maybe trusting God is the ONLY solution.  

I envision that all of us will die someday.  And, maybe we all are yelling “Can anybody help me?” - when the real solution is to accept death and let go.  

If you know somebody who is yelling “Can anybody help me”, help them get help - but not everyone will accept the help they are offered.  The help comes with too high of a price - letting go of all that they have.  (And, if they want, I’ll be glad to talk and counsel with them)

*****

So, maybe the solution is to “let go”.  There is an expression - “Let Go, and Let God”.  but that can come at a high price - letting go!!!

Who can you (and really, who can I) reach out to today, to help, bring hope, and bring light to the darkness?

Because LOVE WINS!!!

Hugs!!

Karen

SATURDAY STORY - MAY 22, 2021 - Ruben Story - part I

 SATURDAY STORY - MAY 22, 2021

As a kid, I dreamt of secret doors and rooms.  

*****

All the neighborhood kids were scared of old man Ruben.  The house was dark, dark red brick, with so many trees and scrubs you couldn't see his house.  It was an old house, built about 1900.  My dad thought it was one of the first houses in Keokuk Iowa.  

Keokuk was an unusual place.  At one time, there were rapids on the Mississippi River, and boats coming up the river stopped there.  Some things were carted a few miles upstream and loaded onto boats and barges going to the Twin Cities of Minneapolis and St. Paul.  Some things just were sold off as to pay to cart them above the rapids was sometimes more than the furniture and items were worth.  The story was that Ruben’s house had all kinds of exotic things from the time before they built Lock and Dam #19 at Keokuk.  

I saw him three times prior to this story.,  Once as he backed his black Citroen (or, I thought it was a Citroen, it was old, mostly black and mud-splattered), out of his gravel driveway. Once as I was mowing our backyard and I thought he was watching me to make sure I didn’t cross into his yard.  And, once when he came on our porch and asked to see my mother and then proceeded to tell her to keep me and the neighborhood kids out of his yard.  (I hadn’t been in his yard, but I think Bobby had dared Dan to go into the yard and retrieve a frisbee).  His English was terrible and I (smart kid that I fancied myself) thought it was more Russian than English (and the Russian/American cold war was on).  I knew he must be some sort of Russian spy, or maybe he was related to the Tzar and was hiding from the Soviets.

That last time I really saw him.  Big black beard, hair that hadn’t been cut in a century, and grubby clothes, with oil and grease stains.  He was about my mother’s height, and I was on a growth spurt and was probably taller than he was.  

Actually, the last sighting made me a hero in the neighborhood as I told the other kids that I had seen Ruben up close, and in-person - and I didn’t die of some strange plague.  

*****

But my real story starts here.

About six months after he had been on our porch telling my mother to keep the kids out of his yard, he came back to the porch.  He was coughing and spitting up phlegm and asked my mother if I could shovel out his driveway after a big snowstorm, and he would pay me five dollars.  With his cough, he sounded like he was dying and must have needed to get his car out, maybe he could drive that Citroen directly to the morgue.  (Or turn into a bat and fly away).

But, for five dollars I would shovel all the driveways in the neighborhood.  Mom looked at me, and could see I was eager for the money but scared to be in his yard!!!  I nodded “yes”, and a deal was struck.  

It was a Saturday and I shoveled that gravel driveway for three hours - may be the hardest five dollars I had ever made.  As I knocked on his door to say I was done, he hobbled out and inspected my work.  It was good enough to get his old car out of the driveway, and now that the city street crews had plowed Grand Avenue he could get out.  Coughing, he invited me into his house.  That was a shock - was he going to change me into a bat, give me poison to eat, or lock me into a cage?  I stood in the entry while he got five dollars.  He placed five old silver dollars in my hand, and then a crystal paper-weight-like thing.  It had a picture of an old Russian cathedral, but the lettering was in Cyrillic and I couldn’t read it.  

Upon arriving at home, my mother (the saint that she was), made a pot of beef stew and insisted I take it to our neighbor.  So, here I was again, on his doorstep with a Tupperware container of hearty beef stew, cornbread, and pickled beets.  I don’t know if Mom knew he liked pickled beets, but his eyes lit up when he saw the beets.  

He insisted I sit at a table next to him while he ate.  He greedily wolfed the meal down, like it had been several days since he last ate.  He told me to get a bottle out of his refrigerator.  I thought it might be vodka, as I knew that all Russians drink vodka (thanks to James Bond). But, it was just bottled water.  

He explained to me in broken English, that somebody was after him, so he didn’t trust the local water.  He had retired recently from an import company that imported the matryoshka dolls, and icons for Orthodox Churches.  I was Methodist and didn’t understand the Orthodox Churches, other than priests with big black beards swinging incense burners.  

As I listened more and tried to understand that he had a daughter and family still in Russia.  He fumbled around on a desk and brought me an address (or it looked like an address) of his daughter, and a picture of her and his three grandchildren.  He said that I reminded him of his youngest granddaughter - blonde and tall.  (Later, I learned that centuries ago, Sweden and Russian were trading partners and some Swedish immigrants had mixed with Slavic Russian ancestry).  

*****

In the next few weeks, I spent many evenings with Ruben, my mother would cook and I would take it next door.  Sometimes, my mother would go with me to figure out what foods he liked. (Beef, meat).  Mom also took him to a doctor twice.  She also helped him get Medicare insurance to pay his bills.  

He did have television, but generally was listening to classical music - Tschaikowsky, Rimsky-Korsokf, Rachmaninoff, Mussorgsky, Shostakovich, and Stravinsky.  One night he brought a balalaika out of his closet and played some folk tunes. 

As winter passed, we became close friends, the old black-bearded Russian and the young blonde American girl.  Ruben became a regular at our dinner table.  My father loved talking with the old man, and my mother enjoyed seeing him slowly regain health.  

*****

But, in July that year, he took a turn for the worse, a few strokes left his left side partially paralyzed.  He stayed in the hospital for two weeks and came home and stayed at our house and Mom (who had trained as a nurse), gave him care.  

I was a second nurse to Ruben.  One day, he insisted I bring the crystal paperweight into his room at our house.  He directed me to carefully remove the back from the paperweight, and there was a small key.  He kept saying chimney key, but that didn't make sense.  Chimney didn't have keys.  Two days later as his condition worsened, he tried to describe where this key went - still Chimney Key.  I went to his house and scouted around and in an upstairs bedroom was a small door next to the chimney.  I tried the key, but with the years, and rust, it didn’t want to turn.  I borrowed Dad’s WD-40 and sprayed it into the lock.  The key went in and turned and then seemed to catch on something.

I went home and told Mom and Dad about the key and the lock.  This time, Dad came with me and had a strong flashlight.  This time the door still seemed to barely open and Dad sprayed the area with WD-40, he pushed gently and used his life to check things out.  It seemed like a little spring was on the floor of the box and kept the door from opening.  Dad asked me to get a wire clothes hanger from a closet and when I brought that back, he gently caught the spring on the floor - and that spring somehow was loaded as the whole chimney fixture shuttered and moved an inch.  Dad and I pushed and it opened wider; another push and it was wide enough for me to barely get through the chimney door.  I was in a small room, maybe 4 feet by 4 feet.

Dad gave me his flashlight and I looked around.  I was standing on just about the only place you could stand, there were boxes, both cardboard in Cyrillic and metal, stacked on the floor.  I handed out one of the boxes to Dad.  I had to put the flashlight on the floor as the box was too heavy for me to hold in one hand.  Before I pushed my way out, I showed the flashlight around the room -  fourteen cardboard boxes, twelve metal strongboxes, and then several canvas and fabric bags.  

We went back to our house, but Ruben was asleep.  We didn’t know if all of this was his or stolen, or some other contraband.  

To be continued

FRIDAY, MAY 21, 2021 LOVE WINS FRIDAY

 FRIDAY, MAY 21, 2021 LOVE WINS FRIDAY

On Fridays, I write about LOVE WINS!!

In some regards, LOVE WINS, is basically the Golden Rule - “Do unto others as you would have them to do to you”  If you want people to be nice to you, be nice to them first (and always).  I recently saw another way of expressing this.  “The best vitamin for friendship is B1” (to be a good friend is a good start and a necessary requirement for having great friends.)

So, off on a little tangent.  I have mentioned my recent surgery (two weeks ago today, and yes, it is still sensitive there!!!)

Let’s look at an “extreme” love - going the “extra mile.”

One definition says “The term “going the extra mile” is a very old expression. It describes individuals who provide great customer service whether it's over the phone, in person, or via email. It comes down to basically doing more than is expected, trying a little harder and going above the norm”.

Or “to do more than one is required to do’.  Matthew 5:41 says, “ If anyone forces you to go one mile, go with them two miles.”

Seemingly, at that point in time in the Bible, the Roman Empire occupied the land known as Israel (or Palestine). Until their form of martial law (“Martial law is the temporary imposition of direct military control of normal civil functions or suspension of civil law by a government”).  If a Roman soldier (or squad of soldiers) ordered you to do something, you did it upon pain of death.  

Scenario:  You are driving to work in the morning.  A cop motions for you to pull over and requires you to get a dozen donuts for the military force.  He levels his gun on you and says, “GO”.  The cop might put another police person in the car with you to make sure you go and get the donuts (please include an apple fritter for me).  That isn’t the extra mile - that is the requirements of martial (or military law).  If you fail to do the assignment, you may be imprisoned or even (in a radical version) shot!!!

Going the extra mile might mean that you look around, see about six cops, and figure two donuts each, then you also get coffee, including some creamer and sugar packets. (And, of course, don’t forgive the napkins!!!)  

Going ‘over-and-above - not just the required coffee, but the extras.  

Back to the Roman Law - if a soldier out in your face and demanded you carry his sword or shield, you did it.  They were probably heavy for a common citizen, and by law, they could only require you to go a mile (or whatever a similar distance was in Roman times - maybe 16 kilometers!!!)

But, you were being gracious, and said, “I am going to be nice to you and carry it a second mile.”.  Now, stop and think.  Wherever you were going originally, you are probably two miles in an opposite direction.  Then you would have to trek back the two miles and get back on your route.  I imagine the inhabitants of Israel were no less busy than we are.  

Scenario enhanced.  You are a K-12 teacher, and the cop is requiring you to get donuts.  So, not only you get the donuts - and coffee and condiments, you have lost a couple of hours of your time.  What do you say to your boss?  “I’m sorry but a cop forced me to get donuts for his squad.  And then I got them coffee too.”.  The principal might say “You fool, you were only liable to get the donuts - and then you got them coffee too?  You didn’t need to do that!!!”.  

Frequently going “above and beyond” is like going the extra mile.  I have a friend that after teaching, would console alcoholics.  Very few people knew of this work - he didn't brag, he just did it.  Yes, he had been an alcoholic and stopped cold turkey as a St. Patrick’s Day many years ago. He was very diligent, he rarely went to places where alcohol would be served. If he needed to, he would order a club soda.  This was his labor of love to those fighting alcohol.

*****

In the past three weeks, I have had many people go out of their way to help me.  AP, took four days off work (unpaid days) and took me to Houston. Yes, we did things together before my surgery - went to the zoo, even to church together.  AND she insisted on my paying her way.  Then at the end of my stay, KW came and spent four days with me and drove me home.  

I have asked myself would I do something similar?  If RP, JK or PK, needed somebody to load a truck and drive it to (say) a retirement house in Phoenix, would I do it?  Could I do it?  What if LMG texted me and said “Karen, could you <do something>”, would I drop everything to do it?  That is going over and above.  

John 15:13 says “Greater love has no one than this: to lay down one's life for one's friends.”.  If TF, LMG, PK needed a kidney, and if I was the right type of donor, would I give up a kidney for any of my friends?  

Many times I have used this “love one another as I have loved you”.  That is right before this verse: Greater love has no one than this, that he lay down his life for his friends.

Of course, before the situation (and in a blog), I would say “absolutely I will go the extra mile for a friend” - but when reality hits - would I really go that extra mile?  Would I give up my income for four days to drive a friend to get gender surgery?  Would I drop everything on my agenda to help somebody move?  

Kind of tough questions.  Going the extra mile, going above and beyond, doing when needed to be done, even if I really didn’t want to do it - but HAD TO BE DONE?  

What if doing this act of unconditional love, cost me, my job, my life, my income, and my future, would I do it?

(Stop reading here)

Recently we have seen politicians stop from certain actions as it might jeopardize their job, their income, and their dreams.  If I vote my deep down conscience on this matter, it will cost me almost anything.  Am I willing to die to myself and take up my cross and follow?

Readers, I have it easy - really.  I’m in the final years of my life, I’m not going to get fired, I’ve already lost my family, so, go ahead, take my life.  And, all because LOVE WINS!!!

I love you all!!!

Karen

THURSDAY, MAY 20, 2021 HOME

 THURSDAY, MAY 20, 2021 HOME

I'M HOME (or, since I’m writing this before I’m actually home, I’m writing this as if I was at home)

I left my apartment about 10:00 on Tuesday, May 4, 2021, and I returned last night at about 6:30 p.m. - so I was gone for 15 days.  I was trying to think when was the last time I was gone from my basic residency for 15 days.  For sure, it hasn’t been since the pandemic started in March 2020.  My best guess is over Christmas break 2012-2013,  I/we were in Connecticut at that time, and we drove to Austin Texas to see our daughter, then to Grand Island, NE to see our son, then back home.  And, even then, did we reach the fifteen-day mark?  Three days on the road coming from Connecticut to Texas about five days in Texas, two days to Nebraska, four days in Nebraska, and three days back to Connecticut. 

I think the pandemic, the separation, and divorce, the retirement probably made this seem like a major milestone.  (And, yet NASA astronauts can spend a year or more on a space station!!  Boy, am I a wimp!!)  Traveling (alone) doesn’t seem to be as attractive as traveling with a spouse.  Even those long stretches on the road seem to go better with a companion to talk to or to decide where to stop for the night and where to get food.  

I’ve become almost a hermit in the past year.  Early in the pandemic, my friend AP and I would go walking together.  AP and I can seemingly talk about almost anything.  Then, in May, my church opened to 1/4th occupancy on Sundays.  The Recreation Center opened in June 2020 and I could walk indoors.  By fall 2020, I felt comfortable enough to spend a couple of nights with KW - but really leave my apartment for fifteen days?  That was pretty radical to me.

Recently, one of my historical posts was on building the transcontinental railroad, and those workers were away from home for years.  (Seemingly, maybe they no longer had a traditional home).  

“Home” is a loaded word.  “There is no place like home” was Dorothy’s plea as she clicked her heels together in the Wizard of Oz.  But, even then (as I extrapolate that fictional tale), Dorothy probably married and moved to some other location with her spouse.  (And, probably not too far away).  My apartment is ‘home’, but it’s not ‘home’ (Yes, I know that statement doesn’t make sense.)  

My furniture is there.  But, (my guess), is that I may live in other places until I die.  My sister/brother-in-law just sold their ‘home’ and are moving to a new(er) ‘home’ in Arizona.  

Anyplace I hang my hat is home is an old expression.  Or a variation, Home is where the heart is.  Christians talk about “going home” someday - meaning heaven.  “This Earth is not my home, I’m just passing through; my home is up above beyond, beyond the clouds of blue.”  

HOME

What is home to you?  A specific place?  A town, a location, a state?  It seems to be in vogue to have t-shirts with a map of a state and the word “HOME”.  I’ve seen lots of Texans with shirts like that - A map of Texas with the word “HOME”.  There are also bumper stickers that say “Native Texan”.  Is there magic in being a Texan?  Is there magic being an Iowan, a South Dakotan, a Nebraskan? 

For me, I think there is a home for all of us.  A permanent home.  

I believe in something so far beyond me - infinity, I can’t even start to describe it, because I don’t understand it.  

So, HOME - yes, I am home from my trip; yes, I am in my apartment.  But, where will I be when I die?  I want to think “I’m going home”!!!

LOVE WINS!!!

Karen