Wednesday, October 31, 2018

Lost, found and other fruits of the fall

After spending most of the afternoon baking for this weekend’s Angels Unlimited bazaar at Goodrich Memorial United Methodist Church, and since choir practice was canceled because of Halloween, it was nice to get out and partake of some friends’ holiday trick ‘r treatery! James and Darline R. Massie do things up right in their neighborhood. We were grateful they shared the spirit of the fall season with us. 

Another factor also contributed to the decision to go out and have a little fun for the evening. In addition to thinking we would have choir practice (since it wasn't officially canceled until last night), I thought Gene would not be back from a trip until today, so I had not bought goodies to give to kids who came trick-or-treating in our neighborhood. Since he came home a day early, it was fun to do something out of the ordinary for us. 

I thought this was going to tie into nicely to the lost-and-found and discoveries-of-the-season theme for a blog post, but as usual, it will take longer than an evening for me to develop my thoughts, especially if I want it to be concise. 

A good friend, who knows how I am as a writer, could not resist telling me today that November is National Writing Month. Writers are encouraged to write at least 500 words each day. Interesting. Earlier this week I told a professional I'm not sure I would have ever gone into a career as a journalist had I known things about myself that I know now.

I've been on a journey of self-discovery the past two years (since I left the field of full-time professional journalism), and one of the components is figuring out where writing fits in. For all the improvements I've made in many areas of my life in that time, my relationship with writing is still quite dysfunctional. It seems I can't live with it and I can't live without it. 

But, hey, I wrote a blog draft last night and now I'm writing again. So, maybe 500 words a day is possible. Especially if I let myself do it like I've done these two days, not worrying if my thoughts aren't really developed or completed.

One of my struggles as a writer is that everything I want to write about seems related to something else, and I have a hard time keeping it simple. 

For instance, the thing I really wanted to include tonight is that after going out for some Halloween cheer, I came home feeling grateful for my husband's return, my successful day of baking and then the time out. 

Yet, I couldn't shake the frustration I felt because I had not been able to find one of my rings. 

People who keep up with my Facebook and blog posts may recall that a year ago in July, I lost my diamond engagement ring while my husband and I were driving to upstate New York. I have a history of losing and-or misplacing things, but the thought of having lost that ring on a great trip with my husband crushed my heart and spirit. I wrote about praying for peace and calm and to realize material things don't really matter. And yet, I knew God knew that I really wanted to find it. And at the end of the day, the ring I thought I must have lost at a rest stop hundreds of miles earlier was found in the backseat of the truck. And that tied in with a whole other story with my husband about rings and anniversaries and a diamond band I got at Christmas as a result.

It was this diamond band that I could not find when I got ready to put on my rings yesterday morning. I looked all around where it might have been if it had just fallen when I put it on its holder, to no avail. I was floored. I had not missed it when I took my rings off. I thought back through the previous day. I began to imagine it could have slipped off anywhere, although that seemed so unlikely on a warm day. (My problem with rings typically has been in cold weather, when my fingers shrink or I'm wearing gloves and putting my hands in and out of pockets.) I was overwhelmed to think of the possibilities of where it could be.

Meanwhile, with the bazaar prep and other things going on this week, I knew I didn't have a lot of time to keep looking for the ring. So I went onto other things, just letting my mind wander back to the possibilities of where it could be. I remembered I had taken a couple of selfies in the afternoon at the neighborhood lake. I didn't think my hand would show up in a picture, but when I looked, there it was! So, I had the ring on my finger while I was in my car at 4 p.m. Monday. From there I went home. The only time I left the house was to walk out to the mailbox at the curb. So the ring had to be in my car, between the car and the mailbox, or in the house. That narrows things down. Right. .... That's another whole other story that I won't delve into now!!!!

 
I know I looked back where my ring should have been at least four or five times Tuesday and today. But for some reason, when I got home tonight, I looked one more time, as if I thought it might magically appear where it had never been. I had decided my next step would be to get my husband to look carefully in that area as well. I knew I could not get rid of anything in the house until the ring was found, lest it was hidden among trash, treasures headed to the bazaar or clothes destined for Goodwill.

Lo and behold, when I looked this time, there was the ring!!!!   


Never mind how annoying it is to keep losing or misplacing things. Or to be able to look right at something for almost two days and somehow not see it. I'm just thrilled to say what was lost now is found! Whew! Thank You, God! (Yes, I still pray for peace and sanity when I'm looking for things I've lost, and I know God also knows what a relief I would feel if I found it.) And indeed: What a major relief amid a busy week! 

And the story will continue to develop .... perhaps divided into more manageable pieces for National Writers Month, starting tomorrow!


Tuesday, October 30, 2018

Faithful witnesses

As of today, it's  been seven years since my dad, Charles Baker Davidson, passed from this earth.

I hope God isn't offended for me to confess that as I get older and more beloved people, including my Dad, my grandparents, my in-laws, a niece, a sister-in-law and countless dear friends, have gone there, I'm not as intimidated by the unknown realm.

I know that, as a Christian, I'm not supposed to fear death, because I'm assured of ending up in that heavenly place, wonderful beyond my imagination or the Bible's ability to describe, in the presence of My Creator. But I'd be lying if I said that has always been the case.

The past two weeks, I've become more aware of and grateful for the angels and witnesses in heaven.

My heart grieved to see Facebook pictures that reminded me my niece Laura is going through her first pregnancy without her Mother on Earth to guide her. I thought of all the things her younger sister has gone through since her mother died weeks before the start of her senior year in high school. 

And then I thought about how wonderful it is to have Elaine advocating for us from heaven. Along with so many others. 

Saturday, I sang at the funeral for a woman whom I had celebrated Holy Communion with most months since she had gone blind and was in an assisted living center, unable to attend church. I sang a medley of songs that were precious to her during our time together: It is well with my soul ... Blessed assurance, Jesus is mine .... How great thou art ...

I sang Blessed Assurance at my Dad's celebration of life seven years ago. The hymn already had great meaning to me, but it is my assurance as well now.

And, for today, I'm aware that the Blessed Assurance of glory divine makes the frustrations of life on earth more bearable.

The faithful witnesses are helping me to grow in my faith in God. I thank God for that.

And I hope to come back to this essay, because I feel certain it can and should make more sense than it does now!

Saturday, October 27, 2018

A process of progress

I want to write something about the beautiful shells I found along the South Carolina coast and trying to become willing to share them with others. Why is it so hard for me to let go?

It's the same with so much stuff in my house. If I like it, I want to share it, but I also want to keep it.

I think this still relates to my faulty memory. This time, I've taken pictures of the shells, and now I've already given three as gifts. Maybe I can make that a habit.

I'm also determined to make a habit of letting go -- mostly through donations -- of things I've held onto in my house for too long.

Tonight, I went through three storage boxes and found several things I was surprised I hadn't already gotten rid of. Unfortunately, I also found some things I forgot I had and that I still don't want to part with. Yikes!

I'm calling it progress. It's part of a process. I just need to keep on keeping at it.

Seasonal


I've felt like the time changed back to Standard Time ever since we returned from South Carolina. Even though the temperature has warmed up with sunny days after that first week of dreariness and rain, it still seems more like November than pre-Halloween. Truth is, I'll have the real time change to adjust to next weekend. Oh what fun!

Fortunately, the return of sunshine and warmer temperatures that brightened my outlook helped me be aware of beautiful bursts of color among trees in the Norman neighborhoods. Many of the trees are still green, but the splashes of deep reds and golden yellows and brilliant orange hues herald a positive part of the changing seasons. I've stopped a couple of times while driving to try to take iPhone photos of the brilliance, but they never do nature's beauty justice.

Today, while walking around the neighborhood lake, I did take several pictures but have not gone back to look at them yet. Maybe I'll do that to brighten the next gray day. Either I'll be amused by how poorly I captured the beauty, or I will get to relive the experience again through the photos. Either way, I can smile and be grateful to remember the beautiful day.

Saturday, October 13, 2018

No loyalty in taking care of business

Business as unusual? Not business as usual.

I composed this when it was fresh news but for some reason never posted it.

The sale of Oklahoma business icon Sonic to the company that owns Buffalo Wild Wings in late September triggered something akin to PTSD (related to surviving several reductions-in-force in 34 years of service before finally losing my job with The Oklahoman two years ago in a layoff), with a thought that business sales and mergers that are announced as positives so often seem to result in major cost-cutting and a downturn in quality, at least from my perspective. I'm not even a big Sonic customer, but I've enjoyed what it stands for and I know so many people who are major fans of the chain. I thought: If the Sonic board can sell that great company, what's next? Braum's? That's one that would hit closer to my tastes.

During the next 12 to 24 hours, I found my mind trying to settle on some positive outcomes to business mergers. My mind settled on the idea that some future merger of The Oklahoman and the Tulsa World newspapers might have some promising possibilities.

So, imagine my surprise when I started seeing Facebook posts the next day that The Oklahoman was being sold -- but not in a merger with the World. Instead, it was being bought by Gatehouse Media, the company to which my job had been outsourced two years ago. Never in my wildest imaginings was that a consideration.

It fueled a lot of emotion. I felt a surprising loyalty to journalism. A frustration about the way things are done. Hearing reports that parts of how this was done were even harsher than methods used in the past. (Those who were laid off reported being notified by email while everyone was still gathered for the companywide meeting reporting these wonderful changes.)

Tied to that, major shifts are occurring in another industry in which I have a vested interest.

More and more, it looks like loyalty doesn't mean anything. People are treated as commodities. And who can you believe?

I've felt unexpected waves of emotion, from sadness, disappointment and a sense of grief, to anger, fear and frustration -- and, amazingly, gratitude, grace and faith.

Through it all, I've repeatedly been reminded of so many reasons to be grateful. The importance of people. Think of my priorities. What's important to me. What do I want to stand for? What can I do to make a difference?



Monday, October 1, 2018

Crazy way of doing business

You know life's going crazy when the adventure of shopping in Walmart's recently arranged grocery aisles becomes an interesting distraction.

I've always heard that stores rearrange their product placement from time to time to keep shoppers from just going straight to what they want. And they want you to have to pass by things you might not have thought about on the way to get what's on your list.

Still, it seems like past rearrangements have made more sense than this most recent one.

Gene and I first noticed the changes about three weeks ago when we were shopping. I couldn't find the gum (now on a shelf facing the first row of refrigerated items, including pizza), and after that I think we spent some time searching for coffee and peanut butter.

The next week, we were on a hunt for Nestle's Quik, which had always on the aisle with the coffee. It wasn't there, nor was it with the cereal. We finally found it with other breakfast items, such as granola bars and maybe oatmeal -- all more than an aisle away from the breakfast cereal (which now faces snacks such as chips). What kind of logic is that???

Today, my search for bacon took me from the middle of the meat section (where the bacon had been near other packaged meat products along a wall), all up and down the refrigerated meat shelves and floor units, to no avail. I also looked among the frozen breakfast foods, but didn't think it should be there. I ended up asking the clerk at the self-service checkout. He apologized for the confusion and said bacon is now with the eggs. Of course! Bacon and eggs. Why didn't I think of that? As I later told a man who was looking for the butter  (which previously was near the eggs, but now was nowhere in sight): The reason I didn't think to look for bacon near the eggs was because that's never where it had been before!  Besides, none of the other moves  I've seen made that much sense. Meanwhile, I was able to help the man search shelves for butter, and we spotted it on a far wall where string cheese previously had been sold.

On my way back to where the bacon and eggs were, I passed a woman wondering out loud where the chocolate drink mix was. I said, you mean like Nestle's Quik? She said yes; it used to be by the coffee. I said right, but it's not there any more. Let me think of where we found it last week. I was pretty sure it was with cereal or other breakfast items. She said she had looked with the breakfast bars, so she went to check the cereal aisle. A few steps later, I found the Quik next to packaged oatmeal (if I recall correctly). I just said in a slightly raised voice, knowing she was in the next aisle, "I found it!" She said thanks and came back.

As I headed to the front of the story after getting the bacon, I noticed people looking up and down, seemingly dazed and confused, along each aisle. Fortunately, everyone seemed to be in reasonably good spirits despite the inconvenience.

But how can Walmart or any other company think it's a good thing for customers to be wasting time wandering around looking for things that are regularly on their grocery lists?

The clerk at the self-service check out said these are not local decisions. "Call 1-800-Walmart," he advised. I probably won't do that. Maybe I should.

Instead, I'll just add it to the string of business developments I've encountered in the past month that have been surprising at best and unsettling at worst. (I may write more about that in a separate post.)

For today, I'm grateful I could maintain a good spirit and be of some help to fellow shoppers.