Reflection

Christmas is a magical time for children and those who keep wonder in their hearts. However, one problem has surfaced in the difficulty of keeping Christmas from becoming the commercial competition that advertising colors it. Television and periodicals bombard us with messages to show our love by buying special tokens of affection. The message of hope and joy becomes a distorted jingle: If a person cares enough or wants to make a dear one happy, he or she will purchase some expensive item that requires months to pay off.

Other ads assault audiences indirectly with feelings of inadequacy. Husbands become targets for guilt if they do not have a beribboned new automobile in the driveway for the little woman.

To the dismay of mature women, ads show glamorous young women in lingerie to persuade them that all they need is a new scanty garment to gain the adoration of a spouse.

The underlying message hints that we must buy to feel whole or less needy. Magically, all our problems of the job, family, and friends will disappear if we make our love manifest in materials for those around us. But the targets do not cease with male and female.

After a dose of commercial guilt ads, even grandparents feel the need to make sure that every grandchild has an equal amount of gifts. Tight budgets fade in proportion to the mounting importance of give, give, give.

At the same time, charitable organizations put in their bid for the holiday spendfest. Visual ads call attention to those individuals who barely manage to eat in foreign countries and our own society. Entering the grocery store, a bell ringer wishes us Merry Christmas and reminds us that not everyone will have a happy holiday.

As time passes, I realize that I am no purist and have felt the tug of media's call to transform Christmas. Yet I, too, have heard the message to remember those who have less and share. My problem with the current trend is why only one season to remember others. Perhaps this rant boils down into commemorating Christmas in our own unique way.

We can give something more wonderful and unique by listening to those we love or those who feel forgotten, and we can provide joy. We can recognize and value another human being. A gift can be a smile we give a stranger or the time to inquire how life is treating someone.

Many observe Christmas going to church and celebrating the birth of our savior. This may truly be one way to check the seasonal insanity.

But whatever way we keep Christmas, we must be actively vigilant to restore a magical time of wonder.

Without Saying Goodbye

I remember reading somewhere that the loss of a loved one is the first time in our lives that we begin to know what it is to miss someone. Only after we experience the absence of a person do we fully realize how much they filled our lives. When I was nine, I lost my father. At that age, I was not fully aware of how much his passing affected my life. As life continued, I began to accept the natural order of life events: birth, living, death and missing. While some find comfort in the promise of seeing those who have gone before us someday, we must still daily live with the pain of those absent from our lives.

Recently, a friend made me aware of the importance of living in the moment. This friend was not a childhood companion nor a school chum. She became my friend by accident, and I was granted the privilege to know her, hear her stories and break bread with her on Thursday nights in the warm months of the year. Little did I realize that these occasions were not to be taken for granted. I guessed that these enjoyable times would continue indefinitely. So many times, we as humans do not realize that life is a short gift of which we must make the most. I am guilty of trying to think of life and those important to us as a given. Today I want to express my gratitude for lessons learned from a friend:

Lesson One—make life more beautiful than we find it. My friend ritually planted her environment with flowers. She shared her knowledge of plants with family and friends. I remember a story of how she recommended hollyhocks to a new neighbor because the flower would enhance a front yard dramatically. Another time, she told of the pleasure of helping her daughter with the landscaping at a new home. Faithfully, every year no matter how illness was slowing her down, she maintained her ritual of gardening and planting. She found joy in the simple beauty of life.

Lesson Two—share a laugh with those around us. My

friend valued every person who found themselves in

her presence. She shared the stories of her childhood, the people of her small town, and the events of her life. If one would listen closely, she was instructing listeners that perspective is the important part of retelling. I do not recall her complaining of life's disappointments nor the unfulfilled dreams of her life. Truly, I believe she was leading by example. If a person has to mention or complain, make the experience funny.

Lesson Three—cherish the living. In the recent years, she made sure to spend time with her family: husband, daughter, grandsons and son-in-law. Even though the chill of winter stiffened her bones, she made sure to return to the colder season for the holidays. During these times, we would gather as friends to break bread together. In addition, she would meet for breakfast at the small restaurants with her husband and friends, of which my husband was one. At other times, she would enjoy repast with her lunch bunch or the morning diners. Everyone in her group from fellow customer to staff listened to the stories of antique finds or shopping trips or a funny story she had heard.

Lesson Four—spread kindness. I will not divulge the many charitable acts that she performed anonymously. She did not want to spoil the simple joy of giving by making her contribution known. She believed that a gift was meant for the recipient, and a thank you only embarrassed her. Everyone was welcome at her table. She did not recognize unknowns to treat them as strangers. They were her fellow travelers on this journey.

Lesson Five—be honest. My friend was not one to mince words. If someone earned her dislike, she did not pretend otherwise. As my life partner often admired, she was not a hypocrite; she was real. If you were her friend, she felt compassion for your trials and short comings. She accepted human frailty for what it is, a characteristic of human imperfection.


Lesson Six—Face life with courage. Though ill, she confronted her body changes with grace. Occasionally, she might mention a new condition, but she did not bemoan her destiny. She bravely stared at these physical limitations with humor. She learned to adapt to new situations. When her eyesight blurred, she enjoyed listening to books on tape. She made an effort to carry on her daily tasks in spite of diminishing stamina.

Lesson Seven—Live each day to its fullest. Celebrate your friendships and friends. Share the time we have on this earth with those we love. Laugh loudly. Care about those we love. Accept aging gracefully, but never give up the battle.

Dearest Friend,

I wish I had known what a place you held in my heart before you left. Thank you for showing and reminding me how short this life is. Since you left so suddenly, today I finish my phone calls to family and friends with “I love you” because your departure denied me the opportunity. Accumulating candles on the cake does not mean we lose our ability to enjoy life or others, only the chance to singe our hair.

God hold you in his hands, Marian.

Visit with the Past

During a whirlwind visit with relatives and friends in the South, I enjoyed a side trip to the Uncle Remus Museum in Eatonton, Georgia. Not only did I get to view the hard work of a community, who take pride in its famous descendants, but I also had the pleasure of some long buried memories of childhood.

This museum is dedicated to the author of The Tales of Uncle Remus, Joel Chandler Harris. Harris recorded the stories he heard from the sages of the black community of Eatonton.

Garden at the Uncle Remus Museum in Eatonton, Georgia.










Luckily born to a family who read, I listened to hours of stories. Although reading may have been a device to make me sleepy, I anticipated story time. Not only did my grandfather read Aesop's Fables to me, but also my mother read The Tales of Uncle Remus to me.

My Disnetized Version

Some of you may be shocked that I was raised on the latter tales. However, during my childhood the works of Joel Chandler Harris had not yet been labeled racist propaganda. My only remembrance was how anxious I felt for Brer Rabbit with all the tricks Brer Fox and Brer Bear played on him. As the story continued, I would become very worried that the fox and bear would get the best of the little rabbit. In fact, this rabbit appeared in many of those bedtime stories like The Tales of Peter Rabbit and Uncle Wiggily.

Even more interesting was the fact that when the local theater featured Song of the South, we were all impressed with the technicolor images. I was really too young to appreciate the full effect of the film's technology, but I will never forget the song "Zippedy Do Dah." Perhaps the time seemed happier because the war was over; the future looked bright with all the modern inventions and discoveries. Living in a small Midwestern town, we did not realize how limited our view of the world was. We assumed that everyone was treated fairly and had equal opportunity.



Later the times changed, and we could no longer assume that fairness was universal. As a community we could not hide from the truth that many did not enjoy the same rights and privileges. We came of age in the civil right movements. We were shocked at the treatment of the minorities. In our effort to correct this unfairness, we tried to remove anything that seemed to demean others. Some of our literary works gained pejorative reputations if they contained hints of past injustice. For example, books like "Little Black Sambo" were assumed to be about Africans and banned from bookshelves.





Were we so concerned about a heritage the perpetrates discrimination that we failed to closely examine the geographical facts? Tigers do not live in Africa but are native to India. Perhaps this case was the same with Uncle Remus. Instead of seeing the historical values of preserving African tales, outraged progressives decried its racial links to the practice of slavery. Even Huckleberry Finn became suspect of preserving racial inequality and joined the list of banned works.





Have we become so phobic that we cannot see any historical value of these books? Truly slavery was a disgraceful practice, but we cannot deny its existence. Why do we look for ghosts to the point of losing the record of African American folk tales heard by a man who became a columnist and editor for the Atlanta Constitution?

The Chrysalis

All around us living creatures are in the process of becoming. As a student, I learned about the pupa stage of butterflies from a wonderful third grade teacher. I remember holding fuzzy caterpillars in the spring. Then later in the spring, the wonderful butterflies emerged from their drab brown cocoons. I wonder if the butterflies know how delicate and gorgeous they are.

Lately this spring season, I have begun to notice more than butterflies' transformations. For example, some young girls undergo a metamorphosis between those cute little third grade years to high school years, and for others, the internal and external change varies.

This period of change shows in the rituals of dress ups, slumber parties, first dances, etc.

Is the butterfly aware of its transformation?

Does it know the time of its life span or bask in the warm sunlight? Does it know that the fourth generation will enjoy a longer life than the three previous generations?

Who will travel south to live triple the normal span of its kin Monarchs?

No, the butterfly does not realize the stage of its life, and humans do not realize the transformation of themselves until it has passed. I doubt the butterfly ever says,

"if I could live my life over and know what I know now." Perhaps the key to living is to enjoy the process of growing and becoming.

With a Little Help from Our Friends and Family

Community is the lifeblood of support. Community may be our family, our friends, our fellow workers as well as those who share common interests. For example, a reader of our blog shared some really great pictures of the graduation. With all gratitude to Minister Mike, who shot these great photos with a super great camera and an even greater and talented eye, here is what the future holds. Some hope for our country rests in the simple job of raising a child to his or her fullest potential.

Sincerity of Purpose

Community of Friends

Those who embrace the challenges

of the world and prepare to

improve it.

Recognition for a job well done provides the encouragement to walk the road less traveled.

The Ever-Caring Force of Love, who sacrifice to make life safe, sane, loving and joyous.

The Closeness of a Sister

All these blessings exist because of community when we share with those around us. Yes, it does take a village to raise a child, but a community of love enriches all who walk this Earth.

Graduation 2009

Graduation is always a time of reflection and celebration. Growing in years, I have discovered that this process begins as children when we attend the formal occasions of our relatives. When little, we can hardly see anything but the upper torsos of adults surrounding us.

Times passes and we get to move farther up in the seating. Now we can see our classmates and our administrators and guest speakers. We feel a happiness and lightness in our moment. We can stop and pause and think about the time passed, but not for very long. Before we know it we are back in the audience watching one of our children following the same path. Perhaps this time, we gulp and stifle a wet tear and wonder where has the time gone.

Yet nothing can touch the moment of watching your adult children share the same path you have walked. As I watch my granddaughter make her way to the stage, I now reflect on not only how quickly the time has passed but also the thankfulness of sharing this special moment in life.