Another round of "no regrets"

I went to watch the Texas Aggies play basketball against the University of Oklahoma men in Norman today. The main reason I went is because the end of an era is drawing nearer, and I do not know when an A&M team will again play a game in Norman that I might be able to attend.

As I was trying to decide for sure whether to go to a game I was pretty sure the Aggies would lose (they did, 65-62) and likely would not showcase high-quality basketball (it did not), many thoughts washed through my mind. From the first time I heard it mentioned and all along the discussions and news reports, I've never been happy about the possibility of Texas A&M leaving the Big 12, where it played teams along the I-35 corridor including two in Oklahoma, for the Southeastern Conference. But that didn't stop it from becoming reality, and this year is the farewell tour.

The OU/A&M football game in November was in Norman, but it was the week after my dad's death, so it was pretty easy to decide not to go even though I knew they might never play here again. (I also knew they'd probably lose, which they did.) I also missed the Aggie women's basketball team's final Big 12 trip to Norman last month, because it was on a work night. (I also feared they would lose in Norman, and they did.) I've never gone to an Aggie baseball or softball game in Norman, but I have attended their games in Big 12 tournaments in Oklahoma City. I hope to have chances to do that this year, which I guess means the farewell tour might not be quite over. But it's hard to bank on the future, so I decided not to let this opportunity pass by.

It helped that tickets were just $10. It also helped that I have an iPhone to provide a distraction if needed. It was OU's final home game, so it was senior day, and I guess there were various promotions going on, because there was a much bigger walk-up crowd that I would have expected. (And of course, there were the white Cheer Like A Champion t-shirts that seem to have been on the seats for every OU game I've attended in Lloyd Noble Center; draped over the seatbacks, they make it look like people are sitting there even when the arena is far from full.)

By time I got through the line, it was 7-6 Aggies when I entered the building. And before I knew it, the Aggies were behind, and they stayed that way the rest of the game, trailing by at least 14 in the second half. As I wrote on Facebook about that time: "This is hard to watch on so many levels. I knew that when I decided to come. I will stay anyway. Because either I will miss it when it's gone, or this will help me not miss it so much." But then the Aggies started a comeback, and I had to hope the Sooners might be able to blow just one more game in which they had a lead at halftime and toward the end. But that was not to be. Gig'em Aggies, anyway, and now the two teams will play again Wednesday in the opening round of the Big 12 tournament in Kansas City.

Among my thoughts before and during the game:

-- I hate that the Aggies will no longer be playing in the Big 12. Not only does that mean they won't play games against OU and Oklahoma State University, but they won't be included in the newspaper's Big 12 coverage nor on local television stations' games of interest. I hate it! Boo hoo! There's nothing I can do about it. But it doesn't mean I have to like it. I anticipate withdrawal sensations in the season to come.

-- It made me think of why I didn't go to the football game, which brought thoughts of my dad's final weeks that still are amazingly peaceful for me to reflect on. My reason for not going to that game somehow influenced my desire to go today. I think Daddy would have approved. He knows his kids like their sports.

-- I thought of the wide variety of Aggie men's basketball games I've attended in Norman. I sat through probably the team's lowest-scoring half in history (it seems like Blake Griffin blocked every shot attempt; I wish I could remember the stat on how long the Aggies went without scoring) one year, but I also enjoyed some very pleasant wins under Coach Gillispie and Coach Turgeon. Most years there has been a pretty good turnout of people wearing maroon, but this year about the only people I saw wearing A&M colors were right behind the team bench. My sister came to Norman for a few of the games along the way, and Flat Stanley also attended with us one year. (Where, oh where, is that picture?) Overall, the memories make me smile.

-- I came ever-so-close to not going. My husband happened to have plans for the day that didn't include me. If that hadn't been the case, I doubt I would have attended, because he wouldn't go, and I wouldn't want to leave him at home. So, I could say thank you fate, but God knows I prayed about this, too, so I'll say, thank You, God!

-- The only negative is that after the game, I could have gone to an event at church to help with care packages for troops, but I ended up not going. I had time and even stopped to get supplies and snacks. But when I sat down for a bit and the cat got on my lap, I decided to just stay home. I'm trying not to fret about why I make decisions I don't understand. Supporting the troops would have been a good thing to do, and I would have enjoyed the fellowship. But I just didn't go. One reason I went to the game was because I didn't want to regret not going. I wish that would have kicked in regarding the event at church. I do think there will be future opportunities. Still, yes, I feel some regret.

-- I have to remind myself, in this and all things: Thank You, God, for Your presence throughout the day as I tried to decide what to do. Help me trust You, God, with those decisions and their results, to Your glory. And thank You for many, many good moments today that had nothing to do with either of these events. I feel grateful and blessed. May I live to Your glory.

Matters of timing

It's blog time. I was going to write about tricks of the trade -- techniques I've learned that seem effective in some areas of my life -- along with musings about why I can't seem to find such techniques to apply in other areas.

But the topic crowding my mind is timing. For everything there is a season ...

What brought it to the forefront was the tragedy at Rangers Ballpark in Arlington on Thursday, when 39-year-old firefighter Shannon Stone, who was at the baseball game with his 6-year-old son, Cooper, died after apparently losing his balance and falling over a railing and hitting his head on concrete after catching a foul ball he had asked All-Star and MVP outfielder Josh Hamilton to toss to them.

How can there be a season for something like that? All involved seemed to be engaged in life-affirming, family building, fan-friendly, innocent fun pursuits -- and such an unthinkable result occurs.

The game went on, eventually resulting in a big win for the Rangers. Players and other fans had reason to hope for the best regarding the father's condition (there were reports he was alert and talking, asking about his son) until they were informed after the game that he had died. And then what? How do you celebrate a victory when a child has just lost a father, a wife has lost a husband, a mother has lost a son, and countless others have lost a friend, comrade and hero.

Another game was played Friday, and even though they won decisively, the victory again was somber for the Rangers. Would it ever seem OK to really celebrate a win again?

I guess the answer came Saturday, when the Rangers were unlikely winners with a 2-out, 2-run walkoff homer by Josh. The team and fans -- and Josh, who'd been tormented by his part in the tragedy -- celebrated with the smiles and innocence of children.

I still can't wrap my mind and soul around how such a celebration seemed appropriate then and not the nights before. Many writers referenced Ecclesiastes -- For everything there is a season ... For a moment, it was time to play ball and celebrate.

I hope and pray that it was appropriate, and that family and friends of Shannon Stone -- and his wife and son -- somehow shared in the celebration. Reports had said Josh was Cooper's favorite player, and he and his dad had bought a new glove on the way to the ballpark, and their goal was go catch a ball from Josh. How does a child process that? How does a family?

Josh's response has been that he's just praying and praying. He's praying to know how and when to reach out to the family. In my mind, it seemed like maybe he already should have, and certainly that he should have said in his postgame comments he was thinking of the father and son as he rounded the bases. But his comments were just about baseball. That surprised me. But I believe him when he says he's praying hard for that family and about his response. And he expresses faith that God does have a plan and a hand in what's happening, even if we don't understand. I guess that makes sense.

But it sure messes with my mind. I want to believe that for everything there is a season, and I want to believe that I live by faith. But a Sunday school discussion today reminded me of what a worrier I am, and how worry really isn't compatible with faith. I pray and pray to know how to handle a situation -- or life in general -- but in reality, instead of truly trusting God to guide my steps (whether to work, play, serve or celebrate, etc.), I keep worrying and trying to figure out the right thing to do. And while I'm worrying and trying to figure out, I miss learning that a recently widowed friend was in town Friday night on a visit from Ohio. I don't know why I wasn't aware she was here. I would loved to have seen her. If only I kept closer contact with church friends ...

If only ...

I lack a good sense of timing -- what to do when. And it often leads to regret. Somehow, as events of this week made me even more aware of that weakness, they also reminded me that none of us can change the past. We can just choose our next action. Right now, I don't feel like I'm doing that very well. I'm stuck again in habits -- past actions. That's part of what the other topic would have addressed: "tricks of the trade" to change patterns and achieve better results. But that's for another time.

I've been praying as I've been writing, and the best I can come up with is that, for now, it's time to post and log off. And I do feel strengthened in my faith that God will show me what this is all about -- or use it to His glory anyway -- in His good time.

Cold facts

I finally accepted that what I was experiencing was a cold when I realized its effect on the common-sense part of my brain: It froze!!!!!

I struggle with decisionmaking in many areas of my life, but one of the biggest struggles is in the area of sickness. The good news is that I'm not sick very much (thank you, God, and praying for continued health!). The bad news is that when symptoms start to appear, I don't seem to respond very well. The problem with my response typically isn't that I overreact and hibernate. Instead, I tend to discount the symptoms and rationalize that I'm not really sick. I self-analyze my symptoms and their onset, and I come up with what seems like a logical conclusion to me that it's probably just drainage resulting from pollen, that I'm not contagious, and I might as well go to work anyway. By the time I can't deny I was really sick, some of the gunk from the drainage has settled into my upper chest, and I feel worse than ever, with a nasty cough, runny nose, watery eyes, congestion, sore throat but somehow not much of a headache or other pain.

This time, the first symptoms showed up on Sunday, as I was unexpectedly very tired as I prepared to drive home from a weekend trip to Arkansas. But being tired made sense after a busy weekend, so I didn't think much of it. And even when I started to have a runny nose and drainage the next day, I truly thought it was sinuses or allergies, not a cold. I didn't have a cold or a fever. I didn't feel that bad. I might as well work. So I worked Monday. And Tuesday. By Wednesday, I was glad it was a short workday, thinking that if I skipped choir practice, I'd probably feel fine by Thursday. So, I'm not sure what happened Thursday morning, but looking back, I can tell that by then the common sense part of my brain had frozen. Because even though I obviously wasn't getting any better, I rationalized that I might be, and that I didn't want to leave people in a bind at work. And I didn't feel THAT bad, did I? By time I left work, I was pretty sure I felt pretty bad! But when Friday came, for some reason I decided I should work again. Same thought: I don't want to leave them in a bind. And even though midway through the 10-hour shift I knew I'd made a mistake in coming to work, I didn't leave, even as I could see they would have been OK without me.

So I reached the weekend hoping that by staying in bed except to eat and medicate on Saturday would turn the corner for me, so I'd be able to go to church. But I was wrong again. By Sunday morning, I could tell I didn't feel enough better to have any business going to church. So I'm still at the house. I hoped I might feel better by 4, so I might shower and go to my Bible study anyway. But I don't think that's happening, either.

So many issues. Among them ....

-- Why don't I go to a doctor? Because whenever I have gone, it hasn't seemed to help. Or that's how it seems from experience. But in this case, it occurs to me now that I probably should have gone when I wasn't better by Thursday. Now, however, I think I'm on the getting-better side, so I don't think I need to go. (Will I NEVER LEARN!!!!)

-- I have a good work ethic, and I'm proud of that. I don't miss work without a good reason, and I try to give reasonable notice. But there's a warp in my ethic when it comes to sickness, apparently. I don't want to leave people in a bind. I don't want to be a wimp. And I just never have a good feel for whether I really am sick.

-- Work is not my God, but when I look at the past week, I don't like the pattern I see about what I attended to every day (work) and the many things I let go, including recovery meetings, church, choir practice, Bible study, exercise and routine chores. My rationale is that everyone else has to fill in the gap at work if I'm gone, and church and everything else seems to go on fine without me, and that I'm the only one who suffers.

In hopes that this won't have been a wasted week, I'm trying to find some lessons in the experience. What is that line for me when I should recognize that I'm really sick and should stay home? How do I know when it's time to go to the doctor? What's the deal with my warped sense of priority toward not missing work? And where do I go from here? I feel some better, and think I'll be good tomorrow (hope springs eternal!!!!), but how will I ever catch up from getting so behind on everything except work?

I don't have answers right now, but this stuff (thoughts, not just the drainage) has been going on in my head all week, and it continues to be helpful to write it down. It's also crucial that I continue to pray and trust in God. Even in what seems like a wasted week, I can't forget to pray to know and do God's will, to His glory. I have to admit I think I did forget to pray along the way some. There is always so much to be grateful for. Writing about it, including the parts where I'm a bit embarrassed about how I deal with things -- and being able to put it out there for anyone who wants to read it -- keeps me moving forward. May I remain hopeful, grateful and faithful.

Through it all: Sweet music of life

As 2010 winds down, I feel compelled to write again about two events from this past year. They stand out above the rest as evidence that even in the toughest times, the sweet music of life can be heard and shared.

The first is so bitter I hate to even write about it. On Jan. 5, as I was preparing to meet my brother in Weatherford to watch his daughter play basketball with her college team from Arkansas, I got a call from my mom saying Mike wouldn't be coming to Oklahoma. When I asked why, the news was stunning: My uncle Joe, who lived near Mike and his family in Arkansas, had been found dead that morning. Circumstances were tragic and unsettling and to this day seem incomprehensible. But as has happened every time my Mom or my Dad or anyone in their families have faced dire situations, close and extended family and friends rallied together in faith and fellowship to get through it. Some relationships seemed to grow stronger and become more treasured with the stark reminder of just how precious and fragile life is. In no way, shape or form did any of the positive outcomes make up for the loss and heartache. But I think a powerful lesson of life and faith is that even in the worst of times, we have choices. Even in the face of my uncle's irreversible choice that seemed to be born of hopelessness, survivors chose to find hope and forgiveness and precious memories and the faithfulness of God.

The second development began in mid-August. When my Dad, a longtime (but by then ex-) smoker who also has chronic obstructive pulmonary disease (COPD) and emphysema, decided it was time for a chest x-ray, a small spot was found on a lung. Thus began a series of doctor's visits and tests and evaluations; a cancer diagnosis; indecision and decisions -- and eventually surgery on Oct. 5. After initially amazing results and recovery and then some setbacks and discouragement, he left the final hospital Nov. 24, the day before Thanksgiving.

I've written many words about this as Dad and Mom and the family went through the decisions and the results of those decisions. Many of those words are in past blog posts. Tonight, I'm just trying to feel and put into words some of my love and joy and gratitude for God and my parents and my family and friends. And words still come up woefully short. How do you convey through written words a smile, a hug and the warm pulse of a beating heart? Close your eyes, and maybe you'll see and feel it.

At least on the surface, many things continue to look bleak as I prepare to turn the calendar page. There are loved ones in poor health or without jobs. Some aspects of our culture, the economy and world are frightening. We're all getting older ....

But the year that's ending teaches me not to be afraid -- or at least to not stay afraid. It's OK to feel moments of sadness, discouragement, grief, frustration, anger and fear. But I need not let them paralyze me. "The Lord is my Shepherd, I shall not want. ... He leads me beside still waters. He restores my soul. He leads me in paths of righteousness for His name's sake. Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for Thou art with me. ... Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the Lord for ever" (Psalm 23).

Even when I recite the 23rd Psalm in my head, I hear music -- the sweet music of life that flows from faith, family, friendship and spirit. May I never cease to seek it and share it -- and give the glory to God.

Decision Points?

It's early December, and part of me has skipped right past Christmas and is thinking about new year's resolutions. Since one of those resolutions might be to live more fully in each moment, it's obvious the need is real.

A few things recently got me to thinking about resolutions.

One is my continuing annoyance and shame over a few of my habits. Anyone who has paid attention knows I chew way too much gum and have a disgusting habit of picking at bumps and rough skin. These may or may not be a big deal, but the thing I'm keenly aware of is that I won't be able to let go of them -- or even just cut back -- without a very determined effort. I'm aware that just thinking about it and the reasons I want to stop or cut back actually make me more compulsive about the habit. I can tell it's going to take not only a physical plan of action but also a plan that involves mental and spiritual resolve. And I'm not ready yet. Maybe if I start praying for willingness now, it will come sooner rather than later.

Another was a Facebook post from one of my nieces. She wrote on Dec. 1: "... is thinking that if I start practicing my New Years Resolutions now by the time 2011 rolls around I might have them down!!" Good luck with that, I thought, assessing my own reality.

The third thing that has me thinking about resolutions stems from having started to read former President George W. Bush's memoir "Decision Points." Rather than being presented as a life story as such, the book's structure is based on looking back at key decisions, mostly in his presidency but also at other times in his life. It starts with his decision to quit drinking. What it made me realize is that I never know whether I've actually made a decision until I can look back and see whether I followed through. Maybe this is related to my compulsive tendencies (mine don't involve alcohol) and need for a 12-step program that includes Step 3: "Made a decision to turn our will and our lives over to the care of God as we understand Him." I've done that and continue to reaffirm that decision daily. One day at a time, it keeps me from turning to food as my God. So, what's the deal with this gum? It's not my God, but it seems like more than a nervous habit. Even though it wastes a bunch of money, I'm not sure it causes any ill effects to my health or the well-being of others. In fact, it only seems like an obsession when I try to let it go. (But isn't that the definition of an obsession or addiction -- when you can't or won't give it up even when you think you want to?) I just know that on some level I would like to be free of the excess. But I don't guess I'd like to enough yet to make what seems like a sacrifice.

I know I've made many important decisions in my life that have been transformative in positive ways. This is happening more often as I grow older. But it's also as I grow older that I'm more aware of the decisions I want to make but keep avoiding. I'm aware that I can't get back wasted moments, squandered opportunities, misspoken words or misspent money. I think there is value in looking back to learn from experience, but I want to move forward, to grow and develop. But I guess I'm still not ready to make a decision. I'm just wishing. Or so it seems. Maybe by the start of the new year I'll be ready. Or maybe tomorrow. Or maybe tonight. I guess I'll know when I look back.

Target practice

This is one of those nights I needed to just sit down and write. I got home early, because the latest haircut appointment I could get was 5:30. Taking off early today offset some of last week's long days. I was glad to be able to do it, even though I'd forgotten how bad traffic is between north Oklahoma City and Norman at 5 p.m. on a weekday. I was 10 minutes late, but it didn't seem to be a problem. I'm grateful for that.

I stopped at Target afterward, trying to decide what to take for my department's Christmas lunch tomorrow. I'd decided to make my own variation of festive Christmas Tree Appetizers (the recipe will be in the newspaper tomorrow, but I know it already, because I edited it!). But I talked myself out of it. And that brings me to why I'm writing tonight.

I'm trying to peel back some of the layers of whatever it is I get hung up in or covered up by each December. I don't expect to get it all sorted through this year. I have no expectations regarding results.

At times in my life, I've called this exercise verbal vomit. But that was when the confusion in my head seemed hopeless, sick and nothing but negative. That's not the case now. I still don't understand why I think and act the way I do -- and why I can't just change those many, many things I don't like about how I think and act -- but most of the time I don't feel hopeless or depressed about these things now. I'm able to say a prayer, count some blessings and find a positive step. (It may sound trite or cliche, but simply saying a prayer and finding something to be grateful for has changed every situation I've ever allowed it to touch.)

Anyway, what I faced tonight at Target was something I seem to have done all of my adult life. It's Christmastime, and I'm shopping -- and I have no idea what to buy. I can't decide what to buy for presents, for food to take to parties, for decorations. Sometimes I think I've decided (see the Christmas Tree Appetizers, above), and then I talk myself out of it. My arguments against are always sound and typically are born of experience. In the food situation, I know if I take food, I will want to eat food. And if I start eating party food at work, I'll eat too much and feel miserable. (That's not even considering that I'd probably start eating too much while I was preparing the food.) Most people may be able to eat too much and not feel miserable or at least not let it ruin their day, but I'm not those people. So I bought a bag of healthy chips and will just take that. I'm going to try to socialize without eating the goodies. I don't know if I can. But today I declined one of my most favorite snacks -- Chex mix made just right (just the right amount of extra butter, nuts and seasoning) -- and don't feel deprived. So I know it's possible.

That's all I'm going to write about tonight. Maybe I'll explore more of these later, such as why it's so hard to even figure out which GIFT CARDS to buy family members.

I wish I could think of a better ending. Oh well. Time to go wash clothes, pedal or something. Gratefully and smiling.